Free Captain Gravenor’s Airship Equinox (Steampunk Smugglers) by Heather Hiestand Page B

remember to feed us they could return at any moment.”
    She fairly flew the five paces to the bars, then crouched to
the dirt floor and poked the wire hook through. It flopped on the dirt, then
became stuck around a rock embedded in the ground. But then, very precisely,
she caught the knife by the pommel and pulled it back through the bar.
    “Ha! I didn’t even need the lasso.”
    He raised an eyebrow at the Americanism. She grinned.
    “Everard had a taste for American dime novels. He couldn’t
be a cowboy so I guess joining the BAE was the next best thing.”
    Brecon picked up the knife and twirled it in the fingers of
his good hand. How could it be used in their interest? He considered using it
as a threat, poking it into Two’s throat and forcing One to lead them out of
here. But that would not be successful. If escape were that simple, he could
have stuck his hook into one of them long ago.
    Was there some way to persuade the man to take them directly
to an airship? His airship, to be exact? If others were testing it the aircraft
was operational. He could fly them out of here on his two-man airship. But the
Red Wing heater cannons would get them long before the balloon could inflate. So
what? To the barn then? Saddle horses?
    Perhaps he should use the knife to kill them. Quickly. Stab
One, stab Two. Grab their heaters and leg it. He glanced at Philadelphia. She
wasn’t a fellow ruffian like him, but a lady in corset and skirts. Even though
her corset was torn, it still had all the parts that allowed it to conform to
her body. No part of a rescue plan should involve running.
    “I can see those gears turning, Mr. Gravenor. Planning your
next avenue of attack?” She licked her lips.
    He bowed slightly. “Not on your radiant form, my dear, but
on this prison.”
    “Oh.” She touched her hair again. “Do you still want to
tunnel under the wall? I’ve had some thoughts about a shovel, though I don’t
know if the batteries we have will last long enough.”
    “No, under the cage. Now that we know there is a door on
this level, we’ll be fools not to use it. As long as no one is watching us
here, it’s the best plan. We can get under the cage more easily than the wall.”
    “I’ll work on the shovel, then.”
    Boots clanked on the steps and a young boy and girl trotted
into the room, one carrying a tray and the other buckets.
    “Where are the twins?” Brecon asked the girl, who worked in
the scullery.
    “Burying the body,” said the boy. “She’s a mute, you  know.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    The boy fished in his pocket for the cage key. Brecon’s hand
twitched around the knife, hidden along the back of his thigh. He couldn’t use
it on a child, though, not even for Miss Hardcastle. No, he wasn’t ruffian
enough for that.
    Silently, he watched the children go about their business
while the inventress poked at the brass hand, muttering to herself. When the
children had clanged back up the steps, he used the wooden spoon to ladle up
bowls of porridge. Then he wiped down the knife and cut the one sausage they’d
been provided and split it into the porridge.
    “I believe I’ve solved the mystery,” she said, sitting next
to him on the bench and taking up her porridge.
    “Just like that?”
    “I had several theories rattling around in my brain. I only
needed to see the hand to know which was correct.”
    “Does it use the aether?” Brecon didn’t know if he believed
in the mysterious substance. It had never been proven to exist.
    “No.” Her eyes caught the sunlight and gleamed. “Electro-magnetic
waves.”
    “Explain.”
    She took a bite of porridge. “The BAE airships must be
wired. The brass hands each have a receiver and the BAE airships have a
transmitter. The wiring acts as an antenna and issues a shock by
electromagnetic waves if the hands are too far away from the wiring.”
    “And it is only so strong, so if you get far enough away
from the airships the transmitter has no effect, but