“We’re all going to be strapped in,” Cedar said as if he were talking to a man, not a beast. “And you’re going to be strapped in too. As I understand it, this is going to be a hard takeoff. Am I correct in that, Captain Hink?”
“That’s right. We usually launch with wind or a glide. Sometimes a clear runway. But we don’t have any of those things. The only way we’ll clear the walls of this hole is by glim. And that means straight up. All the crew buckles in.”
He didn’t know if he was talking to Cedar or to the wolf, but it looked like the wolf was paying close attention to each word he said.
And then the wolf’s ears pulled up off the back of his head and he closed his mouth around the snarl he’d been wearing. But those eyes still burned with brass fire. There was a hatred to the beast. A hatred of being trapped.
“Where do you want to be, Wil?” Cedar asked.
The wolf paced over toward the women and sat right next to Rose Small, who was glassy-eyed and leaning on Mae next to her.
Rose put her hand out and patted the wolf’s back. “Good choice,” she whispered. “Best seat in the house.”
Cedar nodded, and glanced from the wall behind Wil to the rope in his hand. “I could rig something up,” he said, turning to Hink. “But if you have an extra harness like the one you and your crew wear, I’d be obliged. He doesn’t have hands to grip like the rest of us.”
Seldom’s eyebrows took a turn skyward, but Captain Hink just started walking to the wheel of the ship. “Seldom, get the spare out of the box. I assume you can find a suitable way for your brother to wear it, Mr. Hunt?”
“I’m sure I can manage.”
“Good. Be quick with it, and see you tie yourself down tight too. We’re done sitting. It’s time to catch sky.”
Captain Hink latched his own harness to the ceiling bar, his boots snug under the floor straps. He took a breath and a good half minute to settle his mind and his resolve. Flying the ship under bad weather was never easy. Flying her broken, under bad weather and glim, was the sort of thing a man didn’t live to brag about.
“Just give me your wings, darlin’,” he said softly. “I’ll be gentle.”
The bell rang three times. Molly had her glim-stoked and ready to go.
“Are we ready, men?”
“Aye, Captain,” all three voices shouted.
“Passengers, are you secure?” he asked.
“Aye, Captain,” Cedar Hunt called back.
“All steam to the sky,” he said.
Hink gripped the wheel, and a sudden awareness slipped over him. The ship wrapped around him like a second skin. He could count the rocks beneath the landing gear, could feel the rattling cold of rain striking against tin. For a moment or two, he imagined he could stretch his arms and feel the sails unfurl.
“Captain?” Mr. Guffin’s voice broke the thrall.
He blinked, then rubbed one hand over his face just to remind himself that he was flesh and blood, not tin and steam. His imagination had a way of taking hold of him, but never like this, never this real. And now was the worst of times to be dreaming on his feet
It was a strange thing. A worrying thing. He took another breath to clear his head.
“All go, gentlemen.” Hink put both hands back on the wheel. The sense of the ship closing in around him came strong and clear again.
This is what it had felt like when the witch was singing. This is what it had felt like when he’d landed them whole.
Maybe she’d cast a lasting sort of spell. Hink wasn’t sure that he liked it. Right now, he’d deal the hand given him, no matter how strange.
The ship wrapped around him, and all the same, he felt himself stretching out as if he were putting her on like a familiar coat.
He was the ship. But he was very much still the man.
And he was going to make the witch tell him what she’d done to him, and his ship, once they hit clear sky.
Captain Hink gave her throttle, just enough to get the propellers up to speed. He could feel the heat and power of the engines beneath his feet and drumming in his chest like a second pulse. And he knew, without needing the ring of the bell from Molly Gregor, that the glim was in the firebox and the heavens were his to claim.
“Trim the sails tight, Mr. Ansell,” he called out. “And ready the rudder, Mr. Guffin. We’re launching in three…two…one.”
The crew fell to their tasks. Captain Hink tipped her nose up, and let her go. The Swift shot toward the sky, the power of steam and glim mixing like a heady rush of whiskey and wine. Hink yelled out in joy. This was what she was built for. This was what he was meant for. Speed, flight, freedom.