Imprudence
Page 85
For the first time, Rue moved beyond the long arm of the British Empire. It felt terrifying and freeing all at once. A little like attaining her majority. They glided into skies even the East India Company feared to float. It was dangerously peaceful.
That evening they dined under the stars. Their Drifter escort made silent shadows about them touched by the occasional glimmer of lantern light.
After dinner, Rue, feeling antisocial, leaned over the rail near the quarterdeck, watching Primrose, Percy, Tasherit, Anitra, and Quesnel talk on the forecastle. The gentlemen and Anitra puffed small cigars. A marker of how casual shipboard life became was that they did so without smoking jackets. Quesnel’s blond head bent solicitously as he listened to something Anitra said. The group laughed. Their humour tinkled out over the silent night and died in the sands below.
Floote caught her staring. “He turned out a better man than I expected.”
“Quesnel or Percy?” Rue paused and then added, “Or Tasherit?”
The former valet gave a chuckle. “Quesnel. He was quite the rascal.”
“And now he is quite the rake. You might warn your granddaughter.”
“Might I?”
“I would.”
“For your good or for hers?”
“Ouch. Were you this blunt with my mother?”
“I said very little.”
“Because she didn’t need help?”
“I’m too old to sit idly by and watch young people be foolish with their hearts.”
That made Rue smile. “I thought that was what old people did – allowed us to repeat their mistakes.”
“Perhaps.”
“You think he is really interested in Anitra?”
“I think we seldom regret the risks we take as much as the times we did not try at all.”
Wonderful, now he talks in riddles. Rue looked at their balloon shadows, grateful that they weren’t alone above an unkind world.
Floote followed her gaze, leaning his old bones against the railing. His breath was shallow and quick, although he had not exerted himself.
“I am still amazed they agreed to come.” Rue thought it might be intrusive to ask about his health.
“They are curious about you. And about Lady Sekhmet.” He gave the werecat a title, as if she were nobility. “One of the reasons to keep her from meeting them initially.”
“Ah, I see now.”
“Ironic, really. That they rush to keep her kind from becoming slaves, when shape-shifters once enslaved all Egypt.”
“I know Ancient Egypt was once werewolf ruled. The God-Breaker Plague was born to cast the wolves out. Are you saying it wasn’t wolves or that it wasn’t wolves alone?”
Floote’s lined face was thoughtful. “Your grandfather once uncovered a tomb containing the mummy of a jackal-headed creature. There is good reason to call it Anubis form. Mr Tarabotti kept it secret. He was a man who preferred secrets. Ironic that it is you, half a century later, who broke that seal and exposed the world to the fact that there are more than just werewolves changing shape around us.”
“To be fair, it was Quesnel and Percy who did that.”
Floote raised one eyebrow at her.
Rue considered the past, frowning. “How many animal-headed gods were there in the Egyptian pantheon?”
“Enough to keep you busy hunting a long time, Alessandro’s granddaughter.”
“Back then, were werelionesses really so bad?” Floote was clearly a resource. Rue was surprised to find she admired him for it. She was beginning to realise she’d wasted opportunities to learn from her parents. Her mother’s history was fascinating. Rue had always thought her so staid and old-fashioned! She refused to be so foolish now.
“The pharaohs of Egypt controlled vast numbers of slaves with crook and flail. And the living gods controlled the pharaohs. I would say the werecats were as bad as any other. Until they realised their mistake might be deadly.”
Unheard, for she had silent feet even without a cat form to call upon, Tasherit joined them. Rue jumped when her perfect profile suddenly appeared on the other side of Floote, silhouetted against the waning moon.
She said, “We were the first to abdicate.”
Floote nodded at her. “There are no great cats on the walls of tombs built after the Middle Kingdom.”
“There were so few of us left at that point. And we were tired of ruling. Cats have never played nice with others.”
Rue gave her a suspicious look. “Are you trying to tell me cats gave up being gods? Preposterous.”
Floote gave a dry chuckle. Tasherit did not respond.
Rue tried another question, gesturing at the nearby balloons with a sweep of her hand. “You think the people of Egypt forgive you their long imprisonment?”
“Humans have short memories.”
Rue cocked her head. “Even Drifters?”
“Ah, but they were never ours to begin with. They had no flight back then, but they were always nomads. We could no more hold them than we could the shifting sands. This is no betrayal of history, them helping us now.”
“Interesting,” said Floote. As if Tasherit’s one statement had changed his whole perspective on the situation.
The werecat flashed them both a wide smile. “Drifters like cats.”
Then suddenly, just like that, she shifted form. A large lioness stood on hind legs next to them, with paws against the railing and tail swishing behind her.
Instinctively, Rue raised her hand to provide the necessary control with touch. She looked to the moon. It was not full.
That evening they dined under the stars. Their Drifter escort made silent shadows about them touched by the occasional glimmer of lantern light.
After dinner, Rue, feeling antisocial, leaned over the rail near the quarterdeck, watching Primrose, Percy, Tasherit, Anitra, and Quesnel talk on the forecastle. The gentlemen and Anitra puffed small cigars. A marker of how casual shipboard life became was that they did so without smoking jackets. Quesnel’s blond head bent solicitously as he listened to something Anitra said. The group laughed. Their humour tinkled out over the silent night and died in the sands below.
Floote caught her staring. “He turned out a better man than I expected.”
“Quesnel or Percy?” Rue paused and then added, “Or Tasherit?”
The former valet gave a chuckle. “Quesnel. He was quite the rascal.”
“And now he is quite the rake. You might warn your granddaughter.”
“Might I?”
“I would.”
“For your good or for hers?”
“Ouch. Were you this blunt with my mother?”
“I said very little.”
“Because she didn’t need help?”
“I’m too old to sit idly by and watch young people be foolish with their hearts.”
That made Rue smile. “I thought that was what old people did – allowed us to repeat their mistakes.”
“Perhaps.”
“You think he is really interested in Anitra?”
“I think we seldom regret the risks we take as much as the times we did not try at all.”
Wonderful, now he talks in riddles. Rue looked at their balloon shadows, grateful that they weren’t alone above an unkind world.
Floote followed her gaze, leaning his old bones against the railing. His breath was shallow and quick, although he had not exerted himself.
“I am still amazed they agreed to come.” Rue thought it might be intrusive to ask about his health.
“They are curious about you. And about Lady Sekhmet.” He gave the werecat a title, as if she were nobility. “One of the reasons to keep her from meeting them initially.”
“Ah, I see now.”
“Ironic, really. That they rush to keep her kind from becoming slaves, when shape-shifters once enslaved all Egypt.”
“I know Ancient Egypt was once werewolf ruled. The God-Breaker Plague was born to cast the wolves out. Are you saying it wasn’t wolves or that it wasn’t wolves alone?”
Floote’s lined face was thoughtful. “Your grandfather once uncovered a tomb containing the mummy of a jackal-headed creature. There is good reason to call it Anubis form. Mr Tarabotti kept it secret. He was a man who preferred secrets. Ironic that it is you, half a century later, who broke that seal and exposed the world to the fact that there are more than just werewolves changing shape around us.”
“To be fair, it was Quesnel and Percy who did that.”
Floote raised one eyebrow at her.
Rue considered the past, frowning. “How many animal-headed gods were there in the Egyptian pantheon?”
“Enough to keep you busy hunting a long time, Alessandro’s granddaughter.”
“Back then, were werelionesses really so bad?” Floote was clearly a resource. Rue was surprised to find she admired him for it. She was beginning to realise she’d wasted opportunities to learn from her parents. Her mother’s history was fascinating. Rue had always thought her so staid and old-fashioned! She refused to be so foolish now.
“The pharaohs of Egypt controlled vast numbers of slaves with crook and flail. And the living gods controlled the pharaohs. I would say the werecats were as bad as any other. Until they realised their mistake might be deadly.”
Unheard, for she had silent feet even without a cat form to call upon, Tasherit joined them. Rue jumped when her perfect profile suddenly appeared on the other side of Floote, silhouetted against the waning moon.
She said, “We were the first to abdicate.”
Floote nodded at her. “There are no great cats on the walls of tombs built after the Middle Kingdom.”
“There were so few of us left at that point. And we were tired of ruling. Cats have never played nice with others.”
Rue gave her a suspicious look. “Are you trying to tell me cats gave up being gods? Preposterous.”
Floote gave a dry chuckle. Tasherit did not respond.
Rue tried another question, gesturing at the nearby balloons with a sweep of her hand. “You think the people of Egypt forgive you their long imprisonment?”
“Humans have short memories.”
Rue cocked her head. “Even Drifters?”
“Ah, but they were never ours to begin with. They had no flight back then, but they were always nomads. We could no more hold them than we could the shifting sands. This is no betrayal of history, them helping us now.”
“Interesting,” said Floote. As if Tasherit’s one statement had changed his whole perspective on the situation.
The werecat flashed them both a wide smile. “Drifters like cats.”
Then suddenly, just like that, she shifted form. A large lioness stood on hind legs next to them, with paws against the railing and tail swishing behind her.
Instinctively, Rue raised her hand to provide the necessary control with touch. She looked to the moon. It was not full.
