I saw a cluster of spindly docking arms radiating from the back of the flying structure, in the dead spot for drag near one of the giant fans. Some were already occupied by crimson-sailed dirigibles similar to ours. Skip steered us toward an empty berth.
The arm extended toward us, long, flexible cables seeking out the iron ribs of the balloon.
“Magnets,” I said to Cal, analyzing how everything worked out of habit. We’d both been students at the School of Engines before I’d found out he was actually a ghoul and I was actually, in the eyes of the Proctors, an abomination.
“It’s boss,” he murmured, distractedly keeping one hand on Bethina’s where it clutched his arm in a death grip.
The magnets clamped on and reeled us in, safe against the docking arm. A thin ladder that looked like it couldn’t support even its own weight locked onto the outside of the dirigible’s cage.
“I’m not climbing that,” Bethina said instantly.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” Skip said shortly. “Once the city climbs up to night flying altitude, the temperature will drop enough that you should freeze to death in an hour or two. You probably won’t feel a thing.”
Cal put his hand on Bethina’s shoulder. His stringy body was vibrating, and I could tell it was taking everything he had not to change and launch himself at Skip’s throat.
I was thinking it would be a toss-up who clocked Skip first—Cal or me.
“Come on,” Cal soothed Bethina. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be right behind you.” He opened the door and helped her out onto the ladder. She was sheet white, her knuckles the color of bone where she held on to the metal, and I didn’t envy her. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I had plenty of other fears to fill that void, and being so close to iron was making every one of them stir and raise their heads.
Skip turned to Conrad and pulled a key on a flexible chain from his belt. “I’m going to unlock you to climb up. There are more of us at the top than you could hope to overpower, and if you pull anything you’re going off the side.” He smacked the cage for emphasis, and it rattled. “It’s a long way down.”
“You can lay off the lanternreel-villain talk,” Conrad told him. “I’ll be a good boy.”
Skip curled his lip and looked at Dean. “And what about you, Nails? You going to be a good boy?”
“Doubt it,” Dean told him. “Never managed it before.”
Skip snorted before he manhandled Conrad onto the ladder and followed him up.
Dean helped me out, his hand warm on mine even though the breeze whipping along the docking stations was icy cold. “Why does he call you Nails?” I asked.
“Long story,” Dean said. “Not one I’m going to waste time telling, either.”
I looked up the ladder at the dark, arched mouth of the entrance to Windhaven. The lump of fear in my chest hadn’t dissolved, and in fact felt like it had grown. “Is this in any way a good idea?”
“No,” Dean said. “Probably the opposite, as a matter of fact, but I don’t see that we’ve got much of a choice on this one.”
I didn’t either, so up I went. As we climbed, we went from breathless open space to a tiny tunnel. Skip was waiting at the top of the ladder, snapping the cuffs back on Conrad, and as soon as we were all on our feet on the platform, we marched down the tunnel to a hatch leading to Windhaven proper, marked with a symbol in the shape of a wheel and spokes with wings attached.
More Erlkin dressed in uniforms like Skip’s waited at the hatch, and he handed Conrad off to them before turning to me. “We’ll keep your friends in holding until we determine their status. You too. Nails, you’re free to go.” He gave Dean a look I couldn’t identify. Not anger, not contempt, but not pleasure, either. “I’m sure Shard will want to see you.”
An Erlkin even taller than Skip took my arm. “You come with me, girlie.”
I glanced back at Dean as they led me away. I was smart enough to know that I had to stay calm and passive with this many edgy Erlkin around, so I didn’t fight, but it was hard to take my eyes off Dean. Dean was constant, and he was safety. Separated from him, I didn’t know how long I could hold off the madness dreams. Besides, I didn’t want to leave him and the gleam of his silver eyes, the blush that sat on his lips, full for a boy’s, and the feeling of his strong hands gripping mine.
Dean didn’t look at me. He was staring into the middle distance, and I could tell he was seeing something I couldn’t see at all.
I didn’t get to view much of Windhaven as the Erlkin marched me to my cell. They kept me belowdecks, and we passed through a series of hatches lit by spitting aether globes, the walls pitted with rust and painted with more of the strange pictograms like the wheel-shaped symbol that marked the entry. I reasoned it was the Erlkin language, and these must be shorthand for directions to the various levels of the city-ship. I tucked them away in my memory to write out and puzzle over later. I was good at symbols and riddles, and the sooner I didn’t have to rely on an Erlkin to translate, the sooner I’d be able to escape Windhaven if I had to.
I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but I had the bad feeling it was going to, and rapidly. The Erlkin didn’t seem overly friendly now, when they thought Conrad and I were only human. Who knew what would happen if they ferreted out our secret?
The cell wasn’t nearly as cell-like as the one the Proctors had shoved me in when they’d caught me, after I’d escaped Lovecraft. It was more like a deserted classroom, plain metal tables with stenotypes arranged around the perimeter of the room, and a chalkboard with numbers—latitude and longitude—written on it. It looked as if the room’s rightful occupants had just stepped out.
The Erlkin pulled out a chair for me and sat me in it with a hard push. He dropped my bag next to me, after searching it and removing my engineer’s toolkit and anything else I could use to escape. Luckily he didn’t find my notebook, which I’d tucked away in a hidden pocket.
“Stay put,” he said. “Someone will be in after a while.”
“How specific,” I muttered. “Will it be before my hair turns gray?”
The Erlkin sneered at me and closed the hatch. I heard a rumble and saw the rods at the top and bottom lock into place. It would take a blast to dislodge the door now. I was stuck in here until they decided to let me out. If they ever did. Unless I used my Weird.
I had discovered in Lovecraft that I could move machines, that they responded to my blood as my blood responded to iron. But to use my Weird was to invite pounding headaches, hallucinations and nosebleeds. I drummed my fingers against the nearest desk. The Erlkin hadn’t actually hurt anyone yet. I had to save my strength for when we were really in danger. Being on the run had taught me that, if nothing else.
Windhaven moved slowly, but it did move. I could feel the barest vibration of motion from where I sat at the bare desk, spatters of ink coating the pale surface.
I searched the drawers and found a mechanical pencil. It would have to do. I flipped open my battered notebook and sketched out the symbols I’d seen from memory. Underneath I scribbled Erlkin symbols as seen at Windhaven.
My father had never run into the Erlkin, except once. They’d taken him into the Mists, like they had Conrad, before the Fae could get to him.
But were they the same smugglers who had gotten Conrad into trouble? Or had it been someone else, someone who had allowed my father to escape the Fae? I didn’t know, nor did I know where my father was now.
I started an entry on the next page. Writing at least gave me something to occupy my mind, rather than fretting over what would happen when the door opened again. Fretting rarely did anyone any good.