Whisper didn’t seem to look down at Faye just because she wasn’t educated, fancy, or worldly, so since Whisper was only probably five or so years older, Faye hoped that they could be like sisters or something. Faye’s only real sister had died of a fever back when she was really little, Delilah was dead, and Jane was hardly ever around, so it would be nice to make friends with another girl.
She hadn’t gotten to speak to Mr. Bryce or Mr. Bolander nearly as much. Mr. Bryce seemed to treat talking like it was a contest to see who could say the least, and if that was the case, then he was the champion. He was a tall, bony, suspicious type who seemed to scowl a lot and was always watching people with shifty eyes that she could barely see under the edge of his bowler hat. He reminded her of the scarecrows they’d had back when she was kid, back when crops actually grew in Oklahoma. She didn’t know what Mr. Bryce’s Power was. Probably something sneaky.
Mr. Bolander was a broad man, with the big arms of somebody who had worked hard his whole life. He seemed really friendly, with an easy manner and a genuine smile, but Faye hadn’t gotten to speak to him much at all. He was a Negro, which meant that his quarters were in a different part of the dirigible, and there were only certain hours when the coloreds aboard were allowed to eat in the galley. There hadn’t been any Negroes where Faye had grown up, and in fact she had only spoken to a few in her whole life, so the whole thing about shooing them away from everybody else seemed odd to her. Why bother? With her Power, she could kill every single person on the Minotaur without even trying hard, but nobody treated her funny. Now she was different. But Mr. Bolander was the one that had to keep away from polite company because he was browner. If folks were that rude over looks, it was tough to imagine how they’d treat him if they knew he could shoot lightning bolts out his eyes.
If those three had been the only new knights, Faye would have been glad for the help, but there was one left, and Ian Wright made her skin crawl. He had come from the same group as Whisper that had been working in Europe, only he wasn’t anything like her. Even now, while she was trying hard to make the stupid spell bind, he was watching her, acting like he was better than she was. Sure, he hadn’t said anything specific, but she could see it on his smug face.
Ian was probably in his mid-twenties, but it wasn’t his age that made her think he didn’t deserve to be called Mr. Wright. He was decent looking enough, but Ian was moody and she found that turned him sort of ugly. They said he was English, but that he’d grown up here, so he didn’t really sound different. Mr. Browning had said that Ian’s Power was mightily impressive and that hardly anybody in the whole Society was better at making spells. He talked smart, but as it turned out, he was the knight that had stuck up for Harkeness and Rawls in the meeting, which automatically made Faye hate his guts.
Just thinking about those traitors made her slip up on one of the designs. Ian stepped forward. He was going to offer to do the spell for her, and he was going to play like he was being chivalrous for doing it, when in reality he was just being a big mean jerk, but because she was thinking about jerks instead of drawing her markings correctly, the spell fizzled again. She wanted to swear at the Power like it was an obstinate milk cow that wouldn’t put its head through the stall, but that would just make her look dumber.
“Let me do it,” Ian said as he nosed in. “It may be an emergency.”
“We’re in a blimp. If it’s an emergency, what are we supposed to do about it?” she snapped.
“Well, I suppose you could just pop on down to wherever it is and easily take care of everything for us.”
“Faye, he may be right,” Mr. Browning said. “Let him do it.”
Cheeks burning, Faye grudgingly got out of the way. Ian wet his fingers in a cup of water and drew a complicated design in the salt. He frowned at it, said the proper words, and the room seemed to shudder. The salt instantly flash-fused into a solid disk. The circle floated into the air until it was a bit higher than she was tall. It had only taken Ian thirty seconds and the view of the other side was clear as could be. Damn it. He was way better at spellbinding than she was.
“Whoever started this has alerted every Grimnoir within reach. There are a lot of people getting on. This will be very draining for him.”
The circle floated and seemed to spin like a top as others made the connection. She recognized Lance Talon by the bottom of his bushy beard before his circle had even gotten into position to show his face. Others followed, some Grimnoir she didn’t know, then Dan and Jane Garrett, who had curlers in her hair and was still throwing on a robe, more strangers, and then Mr. Sullivan, who from the background had built his circle using the rearview mirror of a moving automobile. Though he would never brag, Mr. Sullivan was remarkably good at spellbinding, which was especially surprising that somebody with a bruiser’s hands could have such a delicate touch.
“So who called this conference?” Mr. Browning asked.
The circle spun. She recognized the disorderly stateroom of the new Cyclone. “Francis!” Faye exclaimed. “What happened to your face?” He looked like the losing fighter at the end of a long boxing match. One eye was swollen shut and purple and his lips were all puffy and cracked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Heinrich was killed in the assassination attempt.” There were collective gasps. Jane cried out and Dan swore. Faye was too surprised to react. “I don’t have much time. This link hurts to keep open and I’m not in good shape. You all know about Roosevelt? I think the assassin was an Iron Guard.”
“No-good rotten bastards,” Lance snapped.
Francis hurried and told them about the attack, and then his interrogation and beating at the hands of the mysterious Mr. Crow. The assembled Grimnoir shared an uneasy look when he told them about the assassin’s ring, and Faye thought a few of them might have a fit when they heard about how Francis’ magic had been blocked. She was still stunned about Heinrich, and by the time Francis finished, her knees had gone all wobbly and soft.
A deep voice cut in. “This is Sullivan.” The mirror spun over to him. He was still driving, and from the lights zipping past, going really fast. He held a small orange box up to the mirror. “This is how they blocked your magic. I don’t know how it works. There’s one word stamped on the bottom, looks like Dymaxion. There’s a stone inside, and while it’s spinning it disrupts your connection to the Power.”
“However did you get that?” Mr. Browning asked.
“Four men tried to kill me tonight. Didn’t recognize them, but probably from the same outfit as the one that beat up Francis. One of them had this.”
Faye realized that the bad men weren’t that smart, since they had only sent four men to kill Mr. Sullivan. Obviously they hadn’t known who they were dealing with.
“There’s more, though. Francis, how long can you hold the line?”
“I’ll do my best,” Francis answered, through gritted teeth.
“I’ll make it quick.” Sullivan rattled off events like a military man giving a briefing, which in a way, was exactly what he was. “The Chairman’s ghost called. EGE has a working spirit phone. And yes. It really was him. He said the Enemy’s sent a scout. It’ll be here sometime soon. We have to stop it before it sends a message home saying this is the place for dinner.”