Anitra and her grandfather stayed aboard. Their balloon, which Anitra explained was more properly her family’s balloon, piloted by her older brother, Baddu, would join the others in escort service. The young man with Anitra’s eyes waved cheerfully after retrieving the net.
Spoo was the last to return from leave. “Apologies, Lady Captain. I’d no idea we were biffing off. No pyramids?”
“Sorry, Spoo, next time we’re in town.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Spoo, my parents live here now. We will be back.”
Spoo brightened and ran to stash her market goodies and assume her post.
The Spotted Custard cast off her mooring rope and rose to join the Drifter balloons dotting the sky. It was difficult to count but Rue would have said near to a hundred or so were participating in the protective cover. Among the classic onion shapes she noticed a few almonds as well. One or two proper dirigibles had joined their party. None were as sleek as her pride and joy, but certainly they were more up to snuff than the standard Drifter fare.
“You’ve some corkers in the mix.”
Anitra nodded. “Grandfather’s. He likes to dabble in modern technology.”
The old man appeared to be slumbering in a deck chair, but Rue got the impression he was still paying attention to everything going on around him.
“Sound investments.” The airships were backlit by the setting sun, so Rue could make out little else but their silhouettes.
Together the flock of airships drifted up the Nile, southwards, high enough to spot the great pyramids far to the right – Spoo waved as if they were old friends – and then moved on into the nomad’s land of river, sand, and stone.
Rue left her new passengers – one napping, the other making fast friends with the loquacious Spoo. Spoo was delighted to explain the workings of the Custard to an interested Anitra. Rue was suspicious of such interest, but Anitra did carry Dama’s seal of approval. And it wasn’t as though they weren’t surrounded by hundreds of her people. In for the boil, might as well steam. Plus they did need an interpreter.
With Mother gone, Rue declined to change for supper. Primrose might be upset since they had guests – Oh dear, I had better tell her we have guests – but Rue couldn’t be bothered. She sent a message to Prim warning her of their new passengers and wandered off to the dining room in hopes of finding the beginnings of food.
Instead, she found the beginnings of an academic. Or the endings of one.
Percy was still in a bit of a state, whether it was guilt or arrogance it was hard to tell, as he’d hidden all but a nervous eye twitch under his customary persona of first water prig.
“Percy, how’s the research going?”
“Not great.”
“Tasherit will not be pleased to hear that.” Primrose joined the conversation, entering the room carrying a tray of barley water.
Percy blanched. “Don’t tell her, please? I’ve recently escaped. She’s pacing my library. Traumatising poor old Footnote.”
Since Footnote was currently sprawled in one of the dining chairs licking his white chest fur in a most untraumatised manner, Rue raised both eyebrows.
Percy continued defensively. “I’ve only just started. That treaty, the one you made with the weremonkeys, it assigned them legal status, as people.”
“There was precedent; the local Rakshasa had already been granted rights.” Rue took a seat.
Primrose distributed the barley water. “Drink up; it’s good for you in this heat. I’m beginning to understand why Queen Victoria was so angry with you, Rue. You made it so they couldn’t be exploited. Bold move.”
Rue sipped the cloudy drink and made a face. “I wish I were that noble and full of foresight. I didn’t do it intentionally, although I would do it all over again. The empire is a yearning maw of exploitation, Prim. You didn’t know?”
“Miss Sekhmet is clearly a person!”
Rue drained her cup, to get it over with. “By whose definition? She lives for ever. She changes shape. She looks like a goddess, not a human.”
“That’s horrible! How can you even think such a thing?”
Percy sipped his barley water with evident enjoyment. Either the boy had no taste or he was delighted to see his sister’s ire turned on Rue for a change.
Rue covered the top of her empty glass to forestall refills. “It’s not what I think, Prim. It’s the way the law acts.”
“But that’s awful.”
“My dearest friend, how do you think I’m classified?”
Primrose put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. “I never thought. Are you…?? I don’t even know how to ask the question.”
Percy was intrigued despite himself.
Rue gave a little laugh. “Last I checked I was a national asset with permitted autonomy, not necessarily a British citizen with all the privileges thereof. There’s some question, Dama said, of me even being considered human. And now my mother is no longer muhjah, and I just upset Her Royal Majesty with weremonkeys. Even with Dama on my side, who knows how the Crown might try to control me. Powerful creatures are dangerous. The government doesn’t like dangerous.”