Free Brass and Bone by Cynthia Gael

standing up all over his head as if he’d been standing on a generator, came over to us. He was not nearly as dirty as Abigail, but he looked almost as happy.
    “There now, we shall see how this lodestone device works, Lady Abigail,” he said. “It is most kind of you to help us with the prototype. You have all my thanks.” He took her hand and bowed over it in the sort of European way I found so irritating.
    Then I realized what he’d just said. “Wait a minute! Does ‘prototype’ mean what I think it means?” I asked with more than a little uneasiness.
    Abigail reached to pat me on the shoulder, but I dodged out of the way of her greasy hand. “Now, not to worry. We have all our usual equipment. We’re just helping Herr Tesla here with a few tests, that’s all. Keep calm, my dear fellow, and leave everything to me.”
    Well, I ask you. How could I do anything else? We were in this, as in all things, together.
    But I did not have to like it.
    Then something occurred to me. “Um, Abigail? I’ve told Mademoiselle des Jardin you plan to leave early tomorrow morning, and now I find your old airship in a dozen pieces. Shall I tell her we’ve had a change of plans?” Even to me, my voice sounded hopeful.
    “Not in the least,” Abigail said. “We’re done with the modifications, the engine will be installed shortly, the airbags are nearly done, and I’ll take her up for a test flight this afternoon before tea time. Now run along, there’s a good boy—I’ve got work to do.”
    I hated it when Abigail spoke to me like that, as you can no doubt imagine. I blamed it on the fact I was a child when we met, and I often suspected she saw me as little more than a ragged urchin still. One day I would impress her; so at least was my vow.
    But until that glorious day, I felt my best plan was to do as she asked—get out of her way.
    ***
    The tests went admirably, so Abigail told us at tea, so well in fact she’d actually had time to bathe and change her clothes, thank the Lord.
    “So we leave in the morning as planned, I take it?” asked Monsieur d’Estes. “Well done, Lady Abigail, well done indeed.” And the cad smiled at her like she was a dish of Devonshire cream and he a hungry cat.
    “Thank Sir Eli and Herr Tesla,” Abigail said then took a bite of one of Rupert’s delectable cakes. “His people are loading supplies into the Invincible now. And such supplies! Grandpapa would be delighted, I must say. I need to take her up for one final test flight with Herr Tesla to give me a bit more information on his power device. Then I’ll moor her down at the old dock on the shore and, with luck, we’ll leave at dawn. Rupert?”
    “M’lady?” Rupert handed Mademoiselle Cynara her cup then turned an attentive look to Abigail.
    “Will you make certain all our personal luggage is loaded before supper? I won’t bore you all with weights and such,” she cast me a meaningful grin, “but those things are important with an airship. I’ve taken the liberty of having all your luggage weighed and measured, and Rupert bows to no man in his uncanny ability to stow things away in the most orderly fashion.”
    “Lady Abigail, can you tell me something more of what to expect in this long journey, s’il vous plait ?” Mademoiselle des Jardin smiled prettily and accepted a scone from Rupert, who seemed intent on dazzling her with his cooking. “I have ridden the airships on the Paris-to-London route, but nothing any smaller. Will we eat and sleep aboard? Do we set down in towns along the way? What is our itinerary, if I may ask?”
    “Surely, my dear, the baggage does not deserve to ask the captain how it will be transported,” d’Estes said with a sneer.
    I hadn’t liked him before. You can imagine how little my opinion improved at this remark. I prepared to leap to the lady’s defense.
    But my darling Abigail was quicker. She set her cup down with a clatter, bolted straight up out of her chair and turned to