“We should say,” answered Sophronia, placing a hand ostentatiously on Sidheag’s arm as if to sooth Lord Kingair’s ruffled aristocratic feathers, “that you already had a perfectly serviceable dirigible. What would you want with our train?”
The flywaymen chuckled at this impertinence.
Stubby said, “It’s more what you want with us. Why have you been following us these three days?”
Now, that was interesting information. Was that what Monique had been doing? Following the airship by train? Why by train? Sophronia puzzled over the matter. I suppose it’s the only thing strong enough to haul two freights’ worth of aetherographic machine. Which means they must have been using the machine to track the airship! That was why the train kept pausing—they had to be still to use the valve. They must have known the ship would float over populated areas, or a train would be useless. But it would also explain why they wanted to stay secretive.
It took only a moment for Sophronia to realize all of this, and she weighed the merits of telling the flywaymen any of it. Best, she thought, to keep revelations about vampires as ammunition for when ammunition was necessary.
“I don’t know what you are on about,” she said, smiling broadly. “We simply wanted a little play time, off Bunson’s. A bit of a lark with a train. We found this one at Wootton Bassett and thought, why not? Lord Kingair here had a hankering to visit the relations, and Lord Mersey, Mr. Dim, and I thought we’d join him.”
Sophronia dropped each name and each nugget of information with purpose, paying close attention to the reactions of both flywaymen. The revelation that they were boys who had jumped a train on a lark appeared to engender relief. The fact that they were Bunson’s boys struck a spark of recognition in Stubby. The name Kingair and the intent to head north meant nothing. If they knew about the fuss with the Kingair Pack, they weren’t connecting it to Sidheag. But it was the name Lord Mersey that really gave them pause.
Both flywaymen focused on Felix in a panic.
Obligingly, Felix stepped forward. He had gone back to his old looks and expression—a paragon of aristocratic boredom. His slightly full lips were too pouty. His blue eyes weighed the world and found it wanting. He slouched just enough not to mess with the cut of a fine Bond Street jacket—had he been wearing one—nothing more than the indolent son of a powerful man. Here was a boy accustomed to getting anything he wanted out of life. He thought he could have her just as easily, and she adored teasing him with the fact that he could not. In that moment, Sophronia again found him wildly attractive.
The flywaymen reacted to Felix’s attitude. Even though they were criminals; even though they were little better than thieves of the sky; even though they were outside society—they could not deny hundreds of years of the British class system.
Sidheag was good at being autocratic. But her aura of command came out of an acerbic nature, from knowing that if upset she could eviscerate with her tongue. Felix, on the other hand, simply assumed superiority. One was compelled to obey him because of who he was, rather than what he might do.
It was wonderful to watch. Sophronia wondered if she could simulate such an aura of ennui and discontent or if it had to be trained from birth.
The two men trusted in Felix’s stated identity.
“Lord Mersey,” said the leader, “we know of your illustrious father, of course.”
So they are connected to the Picklemen!
Felix tilted his head. “And you are tempted into contemplating ransom? You are thinking that here you have a train full of valuable cargo?”
The flywaymen looked more shocked than tempted.
Stubby said, “I know the Duke of Golborne well enough to realize he would not respond well to such behavior.”
Felix nodded crisply. “Good, we understand each other.”
And Sophronia was beginning to understand their situation.
Felix did not mention that there was a fair chance these flywaymen were, untraceably of course, in his father’s employ. If these flywaymen were up to something that would cause the vampires to track them, there was a good chance that something was a Pickleman plot. Sophronia’s heart wrenched. He had to know this, yet he gave no hint, not even to her. Despite the fact that she had been expecting it, Sophronia felt a keen sense of betrayal.
Stubby whispered in his shaggy companion’s ear.
Shaggy hurried back to the airship.
“Is that wise?” wondered Sophronia. “You are now all alone with us.”
Stubby laughed. “I am under the impression that you boys are not armed. Out for a lark, you said, didn’t you? Childish prank, stealing a train.”
Sophronia cocked her head. “Did we say unarmed?”
Dimity and Sidheag turned to look back at their train. The implication being that someone with a gun might be covering their backs.
The flywayman swallowed.
Sidheag added, “More like borrowing a train.”
Felix said, “You do know about Bunson’s, don’t you, Mr. Flywayman?”
“Most assuredly, most assuredly. One or two of our number once trained there.”
Felix wrinkled his nose at the very idea. “Hard times.”
Dimity and Bumbersnoot lurked to the back of their group. Dimity’s was the shakiest disguise. Sophronia was beginning to regret having let her join them. Why hadn’t she asked her to stay with Soap?
The flywayman was focused on Sophronia, Felix, and Sidheag, who each commanded, in their own way, an aura of evil genius mastermind, junior level. Remarkable, thought Sophronia, how a girl intelligencer could so easily become a boy evil genius.
The other flywayman returned at a jog and the two conferred privately.
The angle was extreme, but Sophronia thought she could lip-read the second man saying something about Duke Golborne.
Stubby turned; his face was now closed and suspicious.
“It is not your style, we understand, Lord Mersey, to commandeer a train. And you still have not explained why you were intent on following us.”
“Pure coincidence,” said Sophronia. “After all, there are only two directions to go on any given track.”
“Who are you to know anything of my style?” snapped Felix at the same time.
Oh, thought Sophronia, he is so good at pompous.
Shaggy spoke for the first time, his voice a low growl. “We cannot allow our plans to be cocked up by a band of scruffy boys. No matter whose son they claim to be.”
The first man raised his hand for silence and said, “Have you any proof, young squires, that you are who you say you are?”