Devon Monk - Tin Swift

Something about how he looked at Rose made all his edges go a bit softer, as if seeing her hurt like that took the steam out of him.

Rose gave Hink a small smile. She didn’t do anything else but blink slowly. Her breathing was even and calm as if she were holding herself very still against a pain that would bite to the bone if she shifted even an inch.

“I’ll bring a wagon,” he said. “Old Jack has a steam muler wagon that gives an easy enough ride. And it’s covered to shelter against the rain.”

“Didn’t see any structures out there,” Cedar said. “Where are we bunking?”

“Down in one of his catacombs—and those have elevators if we need it, though going more than a couple turns into the mouse run he’s burrowed through these rocks will get a man lost for good.”

At Cedar’s look, he continued. “There’s a half dozen big rooms he carved out for paying guests. Big enough each can hold a ship’s crew. Back in the day, they say he was commissioned to make this place livable in case the war took such a bad turn that the president himself would need a place to hole up. They used it as a base to tamp down the Indian uprisings for a bit, then lost interest in the place after the war was settled.

“But no one told Old Jack to stop digging. There’s plenty of space in this mountain for us, Mr. Hunt. And the main rooms are heated and free from hard drafts. Ask Molly here, if you need a second word.”

Molly had just strolled in from the boiler room and quickly took in the situation. “We can get us all there comfortable,” she said. “The medicines at his disposal would do Miss Small here a long bit of good. And I think Mrs. Lindson could use a rest too.”

“Yes?” Mae asked as soon as she heard her name. She shook her head slowly and then her eyes came to focus on the room around her. “We’ve landed.”

Cedar didn’t like his choices. Stay out here in a crippled ship under cannon watch for the night, or step inside the spider’s web of tunnels carved in the cliffs by a man no one trusted.

Not for the first time, he wished he still had his supplies, his horse, and a steady horizon in front of him.

“Mrs. Lindson,” Cedar said, stepping over to her. “We’re going to be staying here in the mountains for the night.”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said, her hands smoothing down the front of her coat and skirt. “And Rose. We’ll need to see to her.”

“I’ll get that wagon,” Captain Hink said.

Cedar heard the huff of a small matic coming closer. Then Guffin stuck his head in the doorway. “We thought we’d spare the ladies a walk, Captain.”

“Very thoughtful, Mr. Guffin,” he said. “Molly, see that Mr. Hunt has the assistance he needs.” The captain gathered up the bag he had packed and one extra that looked near empty, then stepped outside.

Cedar walked over to Mae, and Molly did the same.

“Can you walk, Mrs. Lindson?” Molly asked gently.

“Of course,” Mae said. “Yes, of course.” She took a step, then drew her hand out to the side as if trying to feel her way through a dark room.

Cedar caught her hand and her elbow.

“Oh,” she said, a breath of relief shuddering out of her. “Mr. Hunt. There you are. Could you show me to the door, please?”

“Right this way.” Cedar gave Molly a look and she nodded.

“I’ll wait until you’re back to help with Miss Small.”

Cedar took two steps and Mae followed like a woman suddenly gone blind, her steps hesitant even though there was nothing in her path.

“There now, you’re doing fine,” Cedar said softly.

“That helps,” Mae said, keeping her chin up.

“What helps?”

“Your voice. I can hear you. As if you’re right here next to me.”

Cedar winced at that, but kept his tone calm. “I am next to you, Mrs. Lindson. Right here. And we’re near across the floor of the airship on our way to a wagon and a dry bed. Heard there might be a hot bath at the end of it all, if that pleases you.”

“A hot bath.” Mae actually smiled. “I can’t think of anything more lovely at the moment. Thank you, Mr. Hunt.”

“Haven’t drawn the bath yet,” Cedar said. “Might want to hold off on your gratitude until we see if the tub leaks.”

“I wasn’t thanking you for the bath.” With what seemed to be a great effort, she tipped her head up and met his gaze. “I was thanking you for not losing me.”

“Losing you?”

“To the…all the chaos. I would have understood if you simply left me. I haven’t been much benefit, haven’t been…well.”

He nodded. “We all have times when we aren’t…ourselves. No need to worry, Mrs. Lindson.”

“Mae,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“Please. Call me Mae.”

It might be the slide from sanity, or that she was having a rare clear moment. But Mae reached up and brushed her fingers gently down the side of his face. “Always so grim, Mr. Hunt. I’d like to see the day there’s joy in your eyes again.”

They were at the door now, and the wind caught at the tendrils of hair around her delicate face. Cedar swallowed hard against the rise of need in his chest. Swallowed again so he could speak.

“And in yours, Mrs.—Mae,” he said. “Now, let’s see to that wagon.”

“Who?” she asked, searching his face. “I said I’m coming,” she added in a whisper.

Her eyes were unfocused again, the voices of the sisters taking her mind away.

It was like watching the clouds smother the light out of the sky.

He hated it. Hated what the sisters were doing to her. Chipping her away and hollowing her out. If they didn’t get to the coven so those witches could break this spell on her soon, there’d be nothing of her left.

“This way,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him.

They stepped out of the ship to the muler. It was a much more modern matic than Cedar had expected. Even in the poor bit of light splashing over it from the lanterns, he could see it was a sleek buggy in the front, with a wagon bed attached at the back. The wagon bed was canopied by oilskin buttoned down on three of the four sides, leaving only the back open.

If he had to put a guess to it, he’d say it hauled heavy but delicate materials, though for the life of him, he didn’t know what those might be out this far from any civilized place. Maybe nitroglycerin for Old Jack’s blasting habit.

Guffin and Captain Hink waited near the front buggy, Hink’s eyes on the door to the Swift .

Guffin slipped into the buggy’s seat and Captain Hink came around the back of the wagon to help Cedar get Mae settled under the canopy. A lantern hung from the ceiling inside the wagon, the light revealing a bench along one side, and a cot along the other. The floor was smooth, and covered in a clean canvas that smelled surprisingly of herbs, as if it had been boiled in chamomile.

“I’ll stay with her,” Captain Hink said, “if you want to help Molly with Miss Small.”

Mae sat on the bench, her eyes closed, her hands folded in her lap. She was in no state to look out for herself. Cedar hesitated.

“Go on ahead,” he said to the captain. Wil would be there beside Rose. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Captain Hink studied his face for a moment, then nodded. Cedar didn’t know if the captain thought he didn’t trust him with Mae or did trust him with Rose.

“Miss Small,” Captain Hink started. “She’s…well, I want you to know you can trust—”

The rumble of engines rolled over the thrashing of the wind.

An airship. Close enough it must be landing.

“God blast it,” Hink muttered.

“More trouble?” Cedar asked.

“Maybe not. But the way my luck’s been running?” He plowed off to the Swift and it wasn’t but a moment later that he and Molly appeared in the door, Wil a shadow skulking behind them.