never particularly liked autogyros. Often wildly unstable, they forced the pilot to ceaselessly pedal at high speeds until the rotor blades overhead spun fast enough to lift the machine into the air. The Blacksmith’s were even worse—in order to create a profile low enough for an airship’s cargo hold, the pilot’s seat had been fashioned so that, instead of sitting up, he had to pedal while reclining. Yasmeen could think few other things more stupid than lying in a metal cage and endlessly pumping her legs.
Archimedes loved it, of course. He laughed with every terrifying tilt of the machine, and whooped as a bit of wind sent them spinning about. Her knuckles were white, but he grinned and pulled levers and easily righted their course. She closed her eyes, pumped her feet, and prayed until they landed safely on The Blue Canary’s deck.
But she smiled along with him on their return trip to Lady Nergüi. Three days after printing the advertisement, Berge had returned Zenobia to her home. The Blue Canary’s captain had passed on a letter from her, which Yasmeen read aloud to Archimedes as soon as they were in the air again. The turbulence from the rotor blades made the paper flap and fold, forcing her to straighten it after almost every line—and the words themselves forcing her to pause, laughing after almost every common. Upon discovering that they’d actually flown to the Eastern Ocean, Zenobia’s opinion of their mental capacity had apparently plummeted.
“‘Now everyone knows that my only two living relations are also the only two imbeciles in the world who have ever deliberately gone in search of New Eden. I will forever hang my head in shame. Yours, Zenobia,’” Yasmeen read, and looked over at Archimedes, who was grinning as broadly as she.
“She’s overwhelmed with gratitude, obviously. And the postscript?”
“‘P.S. I’m particularly thankful because now that this farce is over, I won’t be forced to write Lady Lynx and the Floating City. What a terrible title that would be.’”
“I rather like it,” Archimedes said.
So did Yasmeen—and unfortunately, the farce wasn’t over yet. It wouldn’t be until they found the device. She tucked the letter into her jacket. “When we reach Lady Nergüi, our story will be that we only asked whether The Blue Canary had gotten word of any sightings.”
“All right. And should we start for home? Bilson’s not likely to kill me now—not when the signal will kill him, too.”
“But we don’t know what his ally will do.”
Perhaps that person had just as imperative a reason to go to New Eden, and less to lose if they used the device. Until they discovered who it was, however, it was impossible to know how much of a threat that person posed.
Frustration pushed her legs faster. “How the hell did they hide it so well? Where haven’t we looked? We’ve all but crawled up the asses of everyone onboard.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have stopped there,” Archimedes said easily, and offered an unrepentant grin when she snorted. “I’m not about to rule it out. The device would have to be easy to get to, wouldn’t it, because anyone who had to make an effort to retrieve it and put it away would have been noticed.”
That was true. Everyone had their place on the ship, and it didn’t go unremarked when someone ventured outside of their place.
“We’ve searched everywhere,” he said. “Except where decency tells us that we can’t—such as looking under a woman’s dress.”
“So I’ll order them to hike up their hems and give you a good look.”
His chuckle stopped abruptly. His brows drew together. “I can’t decide if you’re serious. Would you?”
“Yes.” But not in front of any male, even Archimedes. “There are only four women who wear skirts. It won’t be difficult to check each of them.”
And at this point, foolish not to check. The device had to be somewhere, and beneath a skirt was as good a place as any.
Archimedes grimaced, clearly not liking the idea. “We’re fortunate that everyone else wears trousers. There aren’t many places to carry a foot-long obelisk around without having it bulge like Longcock’s guns…”
Oh, hell. She realized at the same moment he did. His eyes widened and met hers.
“No,” he said, though clearly not believing his own denial.
“Yes,” Yasmeen said. “It has to be.”
He shook his head. “If we’re wrong…An apology could never be enough. God, I can’t even think it.”
She couldn’t either. So they had to make certain they weren’t wrong, eliminate every other possibility first, no matter how