Imprudence

Rue explained. Her mother liked explanations. “It’ll be several hours yet until we’re able to de-puff over Cairo. Why wake him only to suffer a dodgy tummy?”

“As long as we do wake him during daylight. It’s full moon tonight.”

“Is it? I’d lost track. Best keep him tanked until tomorrow morning, then. Sorry, Mother, I know you miss him. But we have Miss Sekhmet to control already.”

Lady Maccon raised her eyebrows. “Actually, I’m rather enjoying the peace and quiet.”

Rue made a condescending noise, not fooled in the slightest.

Lady Maccon gave one of her wide smiles. “Very well, I have missed him. He leaves a large hole when he isn’t around. Being a large sort of beastie, I suppose that’s only to be expected.”

Rue resumed enjoying the view. They were high enough up and early enough in their approach so as not to be sharing the sky with many. A few other transcontinental dirigibles de-puffed out of the grey, flashing into being above them – a mail carrier here, a private pleasure craft there.

“Full moon’s a bother. Delays matters.” Rue turned back to her duties as captain. “Spoo? Warn Miss Tunstell, would you, please? Miss Sekhmet will need confinement tonight. I’m sure Primrose has the moon on calculation, but just in case. Best not let moons creep up on a girl. Miss Tunstell hates to be surprised by celestial bodies.”

“Who doesn’t?” Spoo had been lurking nearby in the guise of coiling rope. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping on aristocrats. “Will do, Lady Captain.”

Lady Maccon watched the deckling scamper off. “Cracking laddie, that Spoo.”

Rue felt no need to inform her mother of Spoo’s gender. Lady Maccon was at her best when not confused.

“Absurd name they’ve given you.”

“Lady Captain? I rather like it. Better than Captain Infant, which would likely be your preference.”

Her mother cackled. “She goes mad, like the wolves?”

“Tasherit? Yes, but in a crazy cat way. She runs about with her tail all fluffed up chasing invisible prey, stops suddenly, and claws violently at whatever is nearest. We’ve had to resurface her room several times. If there weren’t weight to consider, I’d do the whole interior in metal. Prim came up with the notion of wrapping her bedposts and furniture in coiled rope and covering the walls in this rush matting we acquired in India. Not aesthetically the decoration I’d choose for myself, and Uncle Rabiffano would have fits if he saw it, but she hasn’t destroyed anything since. Except the mats and the rope. And no matter where we travel, those seem easy to come by.”

Lady Maccon was intrigued. “Fascinating.”

“I’ve a theory that each shifter, as a matter of course, is true to their animal spirit on the full moon. It seems to be part of the curse.”

“She doesn’t think of it that way, does she? As a curse, I mean.”

“No. Miss Sekhmet is proud of her state, for all she keeps it secret. I believe, when she metamorphosed, it was a noble calling. Or it’s simply that cats are intrinsically snobbish.”

Her mother nodded. “What happened to her pride?”

“Sensitive subject. I’ve not enquired closely. Perhaps she is a loner. Cats are like that, too.”

The day crawled on. They drifted sedately towards the southern tip of the delta, where Cairo nested. The sun rose higher and beat down upon them with an unremitting disregard for the fact that it was autumn. Below, the green narrowed, that eerie edge, where the trees abruptly stopped and desert began, crept closer. It gave Rue a sense of impending doom, a sensation so alien to her nature she thought it likely due to a tea deficiency. Or I’m hungry. The world always seems a worse place when I’m hungry.

As if on cue, Primrose summoned them to an alfresco luncheon.

Tasherit declined to join. She was awake, but napping and not enamoured of abovedecks dining during daylight.

All the ladies sported parasols, not just Rue. Lady Maccon carried her brownish greenish one full of pockets and secrets. It was generally considered hideous by all, including Lady Maccon, and never matched anything she wore, possibly by design. Rue had once overheard a drone asking after its presence. Her mother replied, “I’ve made peace with its appearance, rather like my nose. Neither is fashionable, but both work as designed and haven’t, to the best of my knowledge, frightened any children.” Today she had paired it with an afternoon dress of a stiff wine-coloured-silk-embroidered with a paisley pattern and a grey velvet men’s style jacket. The ensemble was the height of fashion and certainly new. The only possible explanation for her mother’s wearing it being that Uncle Rabiffano had been shopping.

Rue wondered if he had known this trip was imminent and ordered a new wardrobe for Mother full of practical travelling gowns suitable to a foreign climate. It made her feel bitter. How long had Uncle Rabiffano been planning to take Alpha? How long had he known Paw’s time was up?

Primrose was standing under a large deck parasol at the head of the table, gesticulating at footmen with her parasol. She was embracing French fashion this afternoon in a fitted dark umber dress free of all decoration except brown velvet appliqué at the neck, cuffs, and hem. The dress covered her from throat to wrist to toe yet managed to be sublimely sexy and ought, by rights, not to appear on an unmarried lady. She was also still in a temper from confronting Tasherit earlier.

Thus Rue said only, “Daring dress, Prim. Is it new?”