friend was difficult to find. “I need you here. Archimedes and I think her kidnap is nothing but a bluff to ensure Bilson’s return.”
She didn’t have to say more. Even drunk, Scarsdale was always shrewd. He nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
“Lure the mercenaries out. Use the newssheets to advertise our offer. And we’ll need to know as quickly as possible if that offer is accepted.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then their lives are forfeit. Archimedes and I will hunt them down—and you can add that to the advertisement, as well. Use our names, so that the word spreads. A full-page advert ought to do it.”
“If it doesn’t, they’re complete fools.”
“Yes. I also need you to arrange the hire of a fleet to search for them, and give a reward to anyone who locates The Kite and relays our offer to Berge.” If the advertisement didn’t bring them in, the promise of a fortune would. “Fifty livre for finding him and delivering the message, and fifty more if Berge takes the one hundred we’re offering to him in the newssheets.”
“One hundred? You won’t need to hire the fleet. Berge will bring himself in for that.”
“He’d cut off his own cock for that. The fleet and the reward are to ensure that he learns about the offer as quickly as possible.” Yasmeen poured her own drink. “And you have to promise to come for us if we don’t return within six months.”
Scarsdale burst into laughter and lifted his glass in a toast. “And so here is the real reason you contacted me. You want me to send in a rescue if it all goes to hell.”
Only part of the reason. “Yes.”
“Ah, well. I’m glad it’s you that’s going, then. It means a rescue won’t be necessary. Bring that portfolio in the trunk, would you, Hopkins?” He rose from the bed as the valet disappeared into the adjoining room and returned with a leather-bound sketchbook. “On that table, that’s fine. I’ve drawn the layout of the city for you, as requested. But remember, Yasmeen, this was more than a decade ago. He’s added more ships since then.”
She joined him at the table. “That’s all right. The arrangement is probably the same in essentials.”
“Probably. Have you seen the city?”
“Only from a distance.” It had only been a spot against the horizon, and that had been close enough.
“It’s larger than you will expect. Frankly, I was astonished by its breadth, and it can only be bigger now.” He opened to the first sketch, a roughly circular overhead view of the city. His forefinger traced a large ring in the center. “These are the primary gardens. At the aft edge—”
“Aft?” The city was round. “Where’s the bow?”
He pointed to the farthest edge of the city, where he’d written “Bushke” in neat letters. “The city can fly in any direction—but typically, it flies with his quarters at its head.”
“All right.” It made sense. Using his quarters as a reference would be the simplest way to navigate around the city. “At the aft edge of the garden is…?”
“Where new arrivals are taken until they’re indoctrinated. Then they’re married off and receive their own living section in one of the outlying ships.”
So if Bilson wasn’t bluffing, that’s where Zenobia would be. “Under guard?”
“Two citizen volunteers, very lightly armed.”
“Then who has the heavy arms?”
“Bushke’s guard. Thirty to thirty-five men, and they’re fanatically loyal—they have to be. They’re the pilots on the flyers.”
And if they weren’t loyal, they’d simply use the flyers to escape. “And their watch?”
“Is around the clock.”
“The best way in?”
“From underneath.” He showed her another page, more roughly sketched and labeled with “hanger shed,” “engines,” “boiler,” and “stoker quarters.” Twenty flower-like symbols denoted the propellers. “This is the second level of the city, constructed on the framework that stabilizes the airships. There’s the surface and the gardens on the upper decks, the living quarters within the airship cabins and holds—and then this, below the ships. We didn’t see much of it from below, so the placement is an estimate, at best.”
They’d adjust as needed. “Why is this best?”
“It’s all open, for the most part. They’ve enclosed the quarters, the engines, and the hangar. The rest is just a framework of metal struts with access to the propeller shafts—and access to the surface levels.”
Her gaze sharpened on the sketch. He hadn’t marked any notable access points. “Where?”
“Everywhere. When they tether the ships together, their bowed sides don’t align perfectly. And there’s a cushion of space between the hulls