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My memories kept drifting farther away. Carels and Luckmann shared a glance. Even though my eyes struggled tofocus, the skepticism was plain on their faces. The captain pulled Carels aside and muttered to him.
“…she must be intoxicated…”
What if this was more than a concussion? What if I had been poisoned, too? Fear chilled my blood. When I tried to stand, I staggered to my knees. The men caught me by my elbows. Bitter bile crept into my mouth.
“I feel sick,” I gasped.
They brought me a bucket just in time. I emptied the contents of my stomach. After vomiting, I shivered on the floor.
The captain touched my shoulder. “Bring this young woman to her room. She’s unwell.”
Crewmembers escorted me to my cabin and helped me lie down on the narrow bed. I squeezed my eyes shut against the spinning.
Listen, darling. You brought a knife to a gunfight.
Put down your pretty little sword.
I tried to summon the memory of Natalya’s face, but I remembered Diesel falling over the railing into the churning dark water.
You saw nothing.
The steamship docked in Harwich at six o’clock in the morning.
Fog cloaked the coastline of England, and my mind felt equally obscured. I was steady on my feet, at least, and no longer nauseated. But I couldn’t remember many of the particulars from last night with Diesel.
I had to tell the archmages, before I forgot all the details.
Quickly, I found the nearest telegraph office. It was a relief to hear English spoken at last. I dictated my message to the telegraph operator in English, as well, since I knew Margareta would understand it.
Diesel overboard still alive taken by mercenary reply at once
I waited for the reply.
Return by airship immediately
I had enough money to stay several nights—I had meant to book a room in Diesel’s hotel upon arrival—but instead I caught a train from Harwich to London, and then a direct flight from London to Vienna.
The airship was a lumbering beast of a zeppelin, scheduled for a two-hour journey.
In the cramped seating, I rested Chun Yi across my knees and leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the porthole window. Below, England drifted away like a patchwork quilt of green fields and gray city. The zeppelin’s shadow rippled over the English Channel, which looked almost insignificant from the air.
Diesel could be anywhere by now.
By the time I arrived in Vienna, I had a lingering headache. Gingerly, I touched the right side of my head. The pistol had left a painful lump. I stopped by a café for some ice, and wrapped the cubes in a napkin. Ignoring strangers staring at me, I held the ice to my head as I walked to the Hall of the Archmages.
I knocked on the door to Margareta’s office.
“Come in.”
I sat at Margareta’s desk, the ice melting and dripping down my hair. “Ma’am.”
“What happened?” Margareta said, without any proper greetings.
“We were attacked, after dinner, on the deck of theDresden. This blonde dressed as a waitress—Natalya—she pistol-whipped me.”
Margareta thinned her lips. “It looks rather painful.”
“That’s an understatement.”
