Goliath

TWENTY

“Ready?” Deryn asked.

“I suppose so.” Alek looked down at the rope tied to his flight suit’s harness. He wondered what Count Volger would say about him being bound to a common girl. Probably something unpleasant.

But it was certainly better than letting a friend go out there on her own.

Deryn opened the hatchway, and a rush of cold air sent a fresh chill through Alek’s sodden flight suit. As he followed her out into the rain, the five meters of rope between them grew heavy with water.

“If the engines start up, drop flat and hold on to the ratlines,” Deryn said.

Alek didn’t argue. The few moments of downpour at full-ahead had been convincing enough.

He followed Deryn toward the bow, keeping to the middle of the spine, his hands out for balance. Down below, the ocean’s surface was in furious motion, the wind tearing whitecaps off the waves like they were plumes of steam.

“‘Pacific’ means ‘peaceful,’” he said. “So far, this ocean isn’t living up to its name.”

“Aye, and believe me, it’s much worse down there than it looks. We’ve matched the speed of the wind, so all we’re feeling is the odd gust.”

Alek nodded. The sky was dark, the rain still falling, and he could smell a deadly hint of lightning. But the air was eerily calm. It was like being in the placid eye of a storm, with its energies boiling all around them, waiting to be unleashed.

“Then, why’s that loose wire blowing about?

Deryn’s hand described an arc in the air. “The hump always has an untidy bit of airflow behind it when the ship’s free-ballooning, ever since the earliest airbeasts were fabricated. The boffins have never been able to fix it.”

“You mean Darwinism has its flaws?”

“So has nature. Ever seen a red-footed booby try to land?”

Alek frowned. “I’m afraid I have no knowledge of red-footed boobies.”

“Well, I’ve never actually seen one myself. But everybody says they’re barking hilarious!”

They were drawing near the airbeast’s hump, and Alek felt the air growing restive around them. The loose section of antenna looked like a glint of silver dancing on the ratlines.

“Step carefully here,” Deryn called.

With every meter the troubled airflow grew worse, driving the rain into a blur against Alek’s goggles. But he didn’t dare take them off. The loose wire was flailing like the tentacle of some dying creature, and he didn’t fancy leaving his eyes unprotected.

Deryn came to a halt. “Do you hear that?”

Alek listened. Above the chattering of rain he heard a distant thrum.

“The rear motivator engines?”

“Aye, on low speed.” She shook her head. “Just a bit of steering, let’s hope. Come on!”

She jogged toward the flailing wire, dragging Alek by his harness. The wind shifted every few seconds now, sending the falling rain into a dozen little whirlwinds. The wire skittered away as Deryn made a jump for it, but Alek managed to plant a boot down to bring its thrashing to a halt.

Deryn reached into her tool bag. “I’m going to splice another ten yards on to the antenna. That should be loose enough to keep it from snapping again. Go find the other end of the break.”

“I can’t go anywhere, Deryn. We’re tied together, remember?”

She looked down at the rope. “Ah, right. Best to keep it that way, though.”

Alek didn’t argue. If Mr. Rigby hadn’t got word to the officers, the engines could come back on at any time. Deryn worked swiftly with the pliers, her hands as sure as they were with knots and cable. Alek noticed how rough they were. Of course, any sailor’s hands were calloused and scarred, but now that he knew she was a girl…

He shook the thought out of his head. At times like this it was best just to think of her as a boy. Anything else was too confusing.

“Done,” she said. “Let’s go find the other loose end.” As Alek rose to his feet, a chill went through his wet flight suit.

“Has the wind gotten stronger?”

Deryn cocked her head to listen. “Aye, the rear engines are running a bit faster.”

“And we’re losing altitude.” Below, the towering waves were clearly visible now, their whitecaps glowing against the dark water.

“Blisters, we might be in trouble.” Deryn knelt again, putting one finger into the water building on the airship’s surface. “Almost half an inch already!”

“Of course. It’s raining.”

Her eyes closed. “Just let me remember my sums. Every inch of water spread across the membrane adds… eight tons to the ship’s weight.”

Alek opened his mouth, but it took a moment to speak. “Eight tons?”

“Aye. Barking heavy stuff, water.” She started down the spine toward the tail, letting out the added length of wire behind her. “Come on. Let’s find the other end and get this job done!”

Alek dumbly followed, his gaze traveling down the endless length of the ship. The Leviathan’s topside was huge, of course, so of course a thin layer of water would add up to thousands of liters. And though water was running down the sloped sides and off the ship, the rain was constantly adding more to replace it.

“They’ll have dropped all the ballast by now,” Deryn said. “But I reckon the weight’s still building. That’s why we’re losing altitude.”

Alek’s eyes went wide. “You mean this ship can’t fly in the rain without crashing?”

“Don’t be daft. We can still use aerodynamic lift, but that’s what I’m worried about. There it is!”

She knelt and picked up a loose end of wire tangled in the ratlines, the other end of the break. Her fingers worked quickly, splicing it together with the added length.

Alek stood close, sheltering her from the rain. “Aerodynamic lift? Like when we took off in the Alps and had to fly for a bit to get off the ground?”

“Right. The Leviathan is like a big wing. The faster we go, the more lift we generate. Done!” She stretched the wire between her hands once, snapping it hard—the new splice held.

“So when it rains, your ship has to keep moving to stay aloft.” Alek looked down at the ocean. The waves were building in strength, the tallest of them almost reaching the bottom of the ship. “Aren’t we getting a bit close to the water?”

“Aye,” Deryn said. “The captain’s been waiting as long as he can. But I doubt we have much…”

Her words faded as the Clanker engines roared to life. Deryn swore, then stood there for a moment listening.

“What do you reckon, Alek? Quarter speed?”

He knelt to press his palm against the membrane. “I’d say half.”

“Blisters. We’ll never make it back to the wheelhouse before the wind gets too strong to walk.” She looked around. “Might as well stay here, where the ship’s wider. It’ll be harder to fall off.”

Alek glanced down at the roiling black sea. “Very sensible.”

“But we need to get out of the flooding channel.”

“The what?”

“You’ll see.” Deryn started jogging toward the stern.

Alek hurried to catch up. The ship’s speed was building fast, the wind at his back pushing him harder and harder. The rain felt like cold needles now, and the view through his goggles was a blur.

He slowed down to wipe them, forgetting the rope stretched between him and Deryn. It yanked tight, and Alek’s boots skidded on the wet surface of the spine. He landed badly, the air driven from his lungs, his head cracking hard. With the blow echoing in his ears, Alek realized that he was still moving, sliding along in the flow of rainwater. He clawed at the ratlines, but his cold fingers wouldn’t close. For an awful moment the slope of the airbeast’s flank dropped away from beneath him.

Then the rope around his waist went taut again, snapping Alek to a halt. He lay there, uncertain of up and down, his heart pounding.

A voice was in his ear. “This is no use! Clip yourself!”

Alek nodded, feeling blindly for his safety clip. He snapped it onto the grid of ropes beneath him, then sat up, his head spinning. Every second the engines roared louder, and as their power built, so did the driving power of the rain. His goggles were blurred, and his head still reeled from the impact of his fall.

“Sorry I fell.” Talking hurt his head.

“No worries. We’re far enough aft. Just wanted to stay out of that.”

Alek pulled his goggles off, following Dylan’s gaze. Pushed along by the airship’s passage, a channel of water was spilling down the backside of the hump, like a waterfall forming after a downpour.

“The flooding channel?”

Dylan laughed madly. “Aye, I’ve never seen it like that. And this is only three-quarter speed!”

Alek squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly uncertain how he’d gotten out here in this storm. It felt as if he’d just woken up to find himself magically transported from his bed out onto the topside.

“Blisters, Alek, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m what?” He blinked. Dylan was staring at his forehead. Alek reached up to touch the painful spot, then looked at his fingers. They were stained by a thin, watery hint of blood.

“It’s nothing.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“Why would I be dizzy?” Alek reached up to pull his goggles off, but found them already in his hand. His vision stayed blurry, though, as if a layer of glass hovered between him and the world.

“Because you just cracked your head, you dafty!”

“I did what?” It was hard to think with the engines roaring like this.

“Barking spiders, Alek.” Dylan grasped both his hands, staring straight into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m cold.” All the heat in his body was trickling out into the storm, the strength in his limbs carried away by the cold water rushing past. Alek wanted to stand up, but the wind was too strong.

A vast boom rang out, the whole ship shuddering beneath them.

“Blisters!” Dylan swore. “A wave just smacked our underside! The officers left the engines too late.”

Alek stared at Dylan, the shock wave echoing in his head. He wanted to ask a question about the engines and the storm, but all at once the blurry layer across his vision seemed to clear away.

“You’re a girl, aren’t you?”

“What in blazes?” Deryn’s eyes grew wide. “Did your brain get cracked that bad? You’ve known that for a barking week!”

“Yes, but I can… see it now!” Even after he’d known the truth, the lie had remained stuck in his mind, like a mask over Deryn’s face. But suddenly the mask had shaken free.

He touched his forehead. “Did you always look like this?”

Deryn’s answer was drowned out by the engines. Alek knew the sound from his long hours in the pods, the distinctive roar of full speed ahead. The wind drove even harder, the rain suddenly like hailstones. He pulled his goggles on again.

“You fell and cracked your head!” Deryn shouted. “The ship’s heavy with rain, remember? So they’re throwing every engine to full speed.” She turned into the gale, her arm thrown across her face, and stared up at the hump rising over them. “And that’s not all!”

Alek squinted into the wind and saw it—a white sheet rippling toward them down the slope of the spine.

“What on earth is that?”

“The water from the bowhead—all being blown back at once!” She wrapped her arms around him. “Take hold of the ratlines before it hits, in case your safety line snaps!”

As Alek dug his fingers into the ropes beneath them, another boom shook the airship. A vast ripple passed through the membrane, bucking Deryn and Alek half a meter into the air, but her arms held tight around him. Her body was a shadow of warmth in the freezing wind.

“We’re still too low!” she cried. “A tall enough wave could hit the—”

The surge of rainwater struck at that moment, hardly knee height but moving fast. It swept across them where they lay, filling Alek’s nose and mouth. He clutched the ratlines with all his strength, and felt Deryn’s arms around him tighten. His safety line pulled taut as the torrent tried to carry them both down the sloping flank of the airbeast.

After a few long seconds the flood passed by, the water spilling away in both directions from the spine. Deryn let him go, and Alek sat up sputtering and coughing.

“We’re gaining altitude,” she said, looking down the flank. “Our speed has pushed a bit of water off.”

Alek huddled in his soaking flight suit, wondering if the world had gone mad. The wind was roaring with the fury of a hundred engines, a rain like cold gravel was tumbling from the sky, freezing rivers were pouring down the Leviathan’s length…

And his friend Dylan was a girl.

“What’s wrong with everything?” he said, curling up against the cold and shutting his eyes. The world had broken the night his parents had died, and it just seemed to keep breaking.

Deryn shook him. “You’ve got a head wound, Alek. Don’t fall asleep!”

He opened one eye. “It’s a bit cold for a nap.”

“Aye, but don’t pass out!” She leaned closer, their heads almost touching. “Keep talking to me.”

Alek lay there shuddering, trying to think of what to say. The rumble of the engines seemed to be inside his head, tangling his thoughts.

“I forgot you were a girl, just for a moment.”

“Aye. That fall scrambled your attic, didn’t it?”

He nodded, her strange way with words setting off an old memory. “‘My attic’s been scrambled.’ You said that the first time we met. After you crashed in the Alps.”

“Aye, I was a bit loopy that night. But you sounded mad yourself, pretending to be a Swiss smuggler.”

“I didn’t know what I was pretending to be. That was the problem.”

She smiled. “You’re a hopeless liar, your princeliness. I’ll give you that.”

“Lack of practice.” Alek shivered, and they huddled closer, her face only centimeters from his. The hood of her flight suit was pulled up, her wet hair pasted to her forehead, baring the angles of her face.

She frowned. “Are you going daft again?”

Alek shook his head, but his eyelids were heavy. He felt his body stop shivering, giving up its struggle against the cold. His thoughts began to fade into the roar of the world around him.

“Stay awake!” Deryn cried. “Talk to me!”

He searched for words, but the rain seemed to strip away his thoughts before they could form. Staring at Deryn, Alek felt his mind switch back and forth, seeing her as a girl, then as a boy.

And he realized what he had to say.

“Promise you won’t ever lie to me again.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I mean it!” he shouted above the wind. “You have to swear it, or we can’t be friends.”

Deryn stared hard at him another moment, then nodded. “Aleksandar of Hohenberg, I promise never to lie to you again.”

“And you won’t keep any secrets from me either?”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Yes!”

“All right. I won’t hide anything from you again, for as long as I live.”

Alek smiled, and let his eyes finally drift closed. That was all he’d wanted, really, for his allies to trust him with the truth. Was it so much to ask?

Then a warmth pressed against his mouth, lips touching his. Soft at first, then harder, trembling with an intensity that lofted above the storm. A quiver went through him, like the shudder of a dream-fall pulling him from the edge of sleep. He opened his eyes and was staring into Deryn’s face.

She pulled away a little. “Wake up, you daft prince.”

He blinked. “Did you just…”

“Aye. I did. No secrets, remember?”

“I see,” Alek said, and another shiver went through him, not from the cold. His head was clear now, and the rain chattered in the silence between them. “You know I can’t…”

“You’re a prince, and I’m a commoner.” She shrugged. “But this is what no secrets means.”

He nodded slowly, wondering at the warmth of her secret still on his lips.

“Well, I’m certainly awake now.”

“So it works on sleeping princes, too?” Deryn asked, then her smile faded. “I need a promise from you also, Alek.”

He nodded. “Of course. I won’t keep secrets from you, I swear.”

“I know, but it’s not that.” Deryn turned away, staring off into the blackness, her arms still around him. “Promise that you’ll lie for me.”

“Lie for you?”

“Now that you know what I am, there’s no way to escape it.”

Alek hesitated, thinking how strange it was to make an oath to lie. But the oath was to Deryn, and the lies would be to… anyone else.

“All right. I swear to lie for you, Deryn Sharp, whatever it takes to protect your secret.” Saying it aloud made Alek’s breath quicken, and the feeling bubbled up into a laugh. “But I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”

“You’ll probably be rubbish. But that’s the mess we’re in.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure at the moment exactly what kind of mess it was. She had kissed him, after all. He found himself wondering if she was going to kiss him again.

But Deryn was staring off into the storm. Her expression grew serious.

Alek could see nothing but darkness and rain. “What is it?”

“Rescue, your princeliness. Namely, the four biggest riggers in the crew, crawling straight into a sixty-mile-an-hour headwind on their hands and knees. Risking their barking lives to make sure you’re all right.” She turned back with a scowl. “Must be nice to be a prince.”

“Sometimes, yes,” he said, finally letting his eyes close. Another shudder passed through him, shaking every muscle.

Deryn held him tighter, lending him a sliver of her heat until the strong hands of the riggers picked him up and carried him somewhere warm and quiet.