FLIRTING WITH DECEIT
With the sun firmly down and card games satisfactorily completed, the students went to their next classes. The boys had lessons in mechanics and machinations with Professors Shrimpdittle and Lefoux. The girls, all forty-five of them, trooped down to a lower deck to disembark using the glass platform lift. They had their weekly lesson with Captain Niall. There was a palpable waft of excitement, not to mention perfume, as the werewolf was most every young lady’s favorite teacher. He was also, by far, the handsomest.
Sophronia liked him, too, even though she knew the floppy, easygoing military man was a sham. In his werewolf guise, he’d tried to kill her and got her best horsehair petticoat instead. He’d been moon-mad at the time, but she’d never quite forgiven the lapse, nor the loss of the petticoat. Like a proper gentleman, the good captain had never made any mention of the undergarment murder.
The girls stood on the moor. The glass lift turned into a gaslight for evening fighting lessons. Captain Niall strode toward them—a dashing soldier with a beaver-skin top hat tied to his head and a leather greatcoat buttoned from collar to hem. He had a loose way of walking as if he had temporary, and not very good, control over someone else’s legs.
“Ladies, today we leave off knife fighting and move on to the most useful of all skills.” The werewolf paused dramatically. The young ladies about him inhaled in anticipation.
“Running away,” said Captain Niall with a flourish.
The faces about him were crestfallen; running away was hardly a romantic pursuit. Except when one was running to Gretna Green.
“Now, there are many ways and means to run. Today we will cover escape within a confined area—the fine art of dodging.”
He divided them into groups, naming some rabbits and others wolves. The wolves were each given a short wooden spoon that had been dipped in red gooseberry jelly. They had to tap the bodice of a rabbit to eliminate her from the game. This added incentive for the rabbits to dodge, given their dresses were about to be covered in jelly. Wolves could only chase assigned rabbits, and rabbits could not work together. Apart from that, they were free to be as creative as they liked.
Sophronia, Sidheag, and Preshea were the rabbits to Monique, Dimity, and Agatha’s wolves. Sophronia was pleased with this arrangement. She was good at running away and saw nothing morally reprehensible in it. She promptly scampered off to a nearby copse and climbed a tree to watch the proceedings.
A game of chaotic tag commenced, with the werewolf teacher moving so quickly among the students he was difficult to see. He yelled instructions and called out rabbits as dead. It soon became clear why Captain Niall had chosen this particular hill. It was littered with obstacles—shrubs, long grasses, the copse of trees, and an occasional boulder.
The game went on for some half an hour until all the rabbits had died and only Sophronia was left. When she was finally found, the wolves refused on principle to climb after her.
“Rabbits can’t climb trees,” objected Monique.
Captain Niall ignored this and gestured Sophronia down. “Ladies, what did Miss Temminnick do correctly?”
“There she goes again,” sniffed Preshea.
Everyone was silent.
Sophronia jumped down. Monique instantly whacked her with her spoon. A great gob of gooseberry stained the front of Sophronia’s dress, and her collarbone stung.
“Ouch,” she objected.
Finally, one of the older girls answered Captain Niall. “She hid?”
“Exactly! If one is hidden, one does not need to run. However, Miss Temminnick, that was not part of the lesson. So, let’s see you try again in a five-minute fray.” He pointed to three older girls Sophronia knew only by sight. “You’re the wolves. Begin!”
All three charged Sophronia, holding out their jelly-covered spoons. Sophronia dove to one side and broke sharply outside of spoon range. She hiked up her skirts, leapt over a shrub, and made for the high ground. One of the wolves got her dress caught in the shrub and tripped, falling to the side. The two others followed. Sophronia dashed to a boulder, scrabbling for the top.
The wolves did not coordinate, or they would have had her easily. Instead, they each came after her alone. Sophronia kicked, which was considered quite shocking in a gentlewoman, but with her skirts hiked it gave her enough reach to stay out of spoon range. It was so unexpected the first wolf fell backward down the hill, her gooseberry jelly never even touching Sophronia’s leg.
Sophronia managed to push the last wolf away as the older girl went for her bodice. The wolf almost managed, but Sophronia twisted at the last minute and then, with a tremendous heave, leapt forward over her fallen opponent to land down the hill on the opposite side. She skidded around and took refuge behind a very spiky bush.
Sophronia was panting from the exertion, but still alive. She had a brief moment of elation, and then a wolf came to flush her out. Should have named this game fox and hound, thought Sophronia, bending double to avoid the jelly-covered spoon and charging her enemy headfirst. Surprised by a frontal attack, the other girl fell backward into a prickly briar.
Captain Niall called time.
“Interesting, Miss Temminnick. Ladies, what do you think?” He turned to the row of watching students.
“She showed her legs by hiking her skirts.”
“She kicked!”
“She charged with her head! Like a bull.”
“It was all very embarrassing.”
Sophronia stood at Captain Niall’s side and crossed her arms, panting. Certainly, she had conducted herself like neither a lady nor a rabbit, but Captain Niall hadn’t given them any particular rules about conduct, except to survive. She had survived, hadn’t she?
Captain Niall appeared to agree. “Miss Temminnick sought the high ground, a strategic choice if you know the number of opponents. Remember, however, that if there is a chance of reinforcements, the high ground exposes you to projectiles. Now, ladies, please jelly up your spoons and switch roles. Those who were rabbits are now wolves.”
Sophronia saw Dimity lick her spoon surreptitiously before passing it on. Dimity was awfully fond of gooseberries.
So it went, switching back and forth, rearranging rabbits versus wolves, until all were exhausted. By the end, everyone, even Sophronia, had died several jelly deaths. Dimity enacted a dramatic Shakespearean soliloquy at the combined spooning of Agatha and Preshea to a round of polite applause.
After two strenuous hours, with the girls all sore in the calf and blistered in the toe, the captain called a halt. They lined up to be lifted, in groups of five, aboard the airship. Sophronia was pushed to the back because she was being given the cold shoulder by nearly everyone. Sidheag, however, was hanging back intentionally, edging toward Captain Niall.
Sophronia faded into the darkness, pretending to have dropped her reticule.
“Sir, may I ask a word of advice?” Sidheag curtsied, bending her head too far forward.
“About the game, Lady Kingair?” Captain Niall gestured for her to rise.
“No, sir, it is a matter of pack. Things are unsettled in Kingair. I think he may be losing control.”
“He is one of the strongest Alphas in England.” Captain Niall smiled as though alluding to a shared joke. “There are some who would say even the queen’s own werewolf would lose three out of five challenges to your grandfather.”
“It’s not his strength I question; it’s the behavior of the rest of the pack.”
“They are Scottish.”
“But never have they been this angry.”
“Perhaps it’s the Giffard dirigible run. If there is even the possibility he could open the aetherosphere up to vampires, even if it’s only roves…” Captain Niall trailed off.
Sidheag filled in the rest. “Then werewolves have a right to be worried.”
Sophronia puzzled over this. It must have something to do with tethers. Currently, one of the greatest checks on vampire power was the fact that it was limited to specific territories. The more powerful the vampire, the more confined the territory. Werewolves, on the other hand, had a greater range since their tether was to other members of the pack, rather than an exact location. This was how England had won an empire abroad; packs could fight in armies. Is there something about this dirigible flight that could change that dynamic? That’s far more significant than Vieve’s claims of shorter travel times. Vampires could be as mobile as werewolves if they tethered to aetherosphere-going dirigibles, possibly more so.
“I’ve always wondered why Professor Braithwope was the only floating vampire,” said Sidheag.
“He’s a bit of an experiment.”
Considering the vampire teacher’s silly mustache, Sophronia thought, Not only in that way. Are the vampires hoping to experiment further with Giffard’s new technology? Is someone trying to stop them? Vampires, to Sophronia, were mainly a concept rather than a practice—she hadn’t much experience with them. But she found the concept more palatable when she knew there were limits to their supernatural abilities. The werewolves, she must assume from this conversation, felt the same.
Sidheag said, “Do we consider the professor a successful experiment?”
Captain Niall touched the tall girl affectionately on one shoulder. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course.” Sidheag pressed one long finger to her mouth. Then, glancing around, she said, “Oh, dear, it looks like I’m the last.” The glass platform waited for her, so low Sidheag need only step up onto it.
“Not entirely. Miss Temminnick?” Captain Niall turned into the darkness to where Sophronia skulked.
She moved forward, not at all ashamed. This was, after all, what they were trained for. “Did you smell me or hear me?”
“Both. Even you cannot quiet your own heartbeat. And, as you have been told before, perfume will always work against you with the supernatural, unless you have scattered it everywhere.”
Sidheag, at least, seemed gratifyingly surprised to see her.
“What did you hear?” she hissed, as Sophronia stepped up onto the platform next to her.
“Enough.”
“That’s personal pack business!”
“And I won’t mention any of it, if you tell me everything you know about this vampire plot.”
“I can’t be seen talking to you.” The platform rose slowly toward the underbelly of the airship. At the same time, the massive craft lifted higher into the sky.
“Then you had better do it fast.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re awful contrary, Sophronia?”
“Frequently. Now explain.”
“It seems the werewolves think the vampires are trying to master aetherosphere travel for themselves. There are rumors Giffard’s been funded by vampire backers. Even though he’s French.”
Sophronia’s mind whirled at the implications. “Is our school floating to town to support or fight this possibility?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“How do our visiting boys figure into this?”
Sidheag shrugged. “Bunson’s is pro Picklemen.”
Sophronia nodded. “And the Picklemen will want to control any aetherosphere travel for themselves.” She was thinking about the prototype kerfuffle at her sister’s ball. Both the government and the Picklemen had been after the technology then. “No wonder we are floating to town.”
“You think there’s going to be some kind of contest for control?” Sidheag nibbled her lips. The werewolves, as a rule, were uninterested in advancements in science that did not pertain to munitions. Sidheag had not been raised to think in terms of patent control or manipulation of technological discoveries.
Sophronia said, “I’m not sure what I think yet, but that seems likely.”
It was far easier to get around the ship with Vieve. Sophronia didn’t have to climb the exterior to avoid patrolling mechanicals. Vieve had an invention of her own devising, the obstructor, which froze a mechanical in its tracks long enough for two girls to slide around it.
They sped through the central student section and then into the forbidden section. Dangling red tassels all around demarcated the highly restricted forward segment of the ship, which included the teachers’ quarters, the record room, and… the boiler room. Everything was going smoothly, even the most dangerous part: passing the doors of slumbering teachers.
Then a loud whistle reverberated through the airship, picked up and repeated by every mechanical within range. They hadn’t had to use the obstructor for two hallways, so it couldn’t have been their fault. The alarm was triggered by some other miscreants out after hours.
The two girls squeezed behind a massive marble bust of Pan and a once-underdressed nymph in the corner. The nymph had been clothed in skirts and a lace hat, to make her more the thing. This meant there was plenty of room for concealment. Just in time, too, for doors to teachers’ rooms popped open and heads stuck out.