Tin Swift(65)

Cedar didn’t like his choices. Stay out here in a crippled ship under cannon watch for the night, or step inside the spider’s web of tunnels carved in the cliffs by a man no one trusted.

Not for the first time, he wished he still had his supplies, his horse, and a steady horizon in front of him.

“Mrs. Lindson,” Cedar said, stepping over to her. “We’re going to be staying here in the mountains for the night.”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said, her hands smoothing down the front of her coat and skirt. “And Rose. We’ll need to see to her.”

“I’ll get that wagon,” Captain Hink said.

Cedar heard the huff of a small matic coming closer. Then Guffin stuck his head in the doorway. “We thought we’d spare the ladies a walk, Captain.”

“Very thoughtful, Mr. Guffin,” he said. “Molly, see that Mr. Hunt has the assistance he needs.” The captain gathered up the bag he had packed and one extra that looked near empty, then stepped outside.

Cedar walked over to Mae, and Molly did the same.

“Can you walk, Mrs. Lindson?” Molly asked gently.

“Of course,” Mae said. “Yes, of course.” She took a step, then drew her hand out to the side as if trying to feel her way through a dark room.

Cedar caught her hand and her elbow.

“Oh,” she said, a breath of relief shuddering out of her. “Mr. Hunt. There you are. Could you show me to the door, please?”

“Right this way.” Cedar gave Molly a look and she nodded.

“I’ll wait until you’re back to help with Miss Small.”

Cedar took two steps and Mae followed like a woman suddenly gone blind, her steps hesitant even though there was nothing in her path.

“There now, you’re doing fine,” Cedar said softly.

“That helps,” Mae said, keeping her chin up.

“What helps?”

“Your voice. I can hear you. As if you’re right here next to me.”

Cedar winced at that, but kept his tone calm. “I am next to you, Mrs. Lindson. Right here. And we’re near across the floor of the airship on our way to a wagon and a dry bed. Heard there might be a hot bath at the end of it all, if that pleases you.”

“A hot bath.” Mae actually smiled. “I can’t think of anything more lovely at the moment. Thank you, Mr. Hunt.”

“Haven’t drawn the bath yet,” Cedar said. “Might want to hold off on your gratitude until we see if the tub leaks.”

“I wasn’t thanking you for the bath.” With what seemed to be a great effort, she tipped her head up and met his gaze. “I was thanking you for not losing me.”

“Losing you?”

“To the…all the chaos. I would have understood if you simply left me. I haven’t been much benefit, haven’t been…well.”

He nodded. “We all have times when we aren’t…ourselves. No need to worry, Mrs. Lindson.”

“Mae,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“Please. Call me Mae.”

It might be the slide from sanity, or that she was having a rare clear moment. But Mae reached up and brushed her fingers gently down the side of his face. “Always so grim, Mr. Hunt. I’d like to see the day there’s joy in your eyes again.”

They were at the door now, and the wind caught at the tendrils of hair around her delicate face. Cedar swallowed hard against the rise of need in his chest. Swallowed again so he could speak.

“And in yours, Mrs.—Mae,” he said. “Now, let’s see to that wagon.”

“Who?” she asked, searching his face. “I said I’m coming,” she added in a whisper.

Her eyes were unfocused again, the voices of the sisters taking her mind away.

It was like watching the clouds smother the light out of the sky.

He hated it. Hated what the sisters were doing to her. Chipping her away and hollowing her out. If they didn’t get to the coven so those witches could break this spell on her soon, there’d be nothing of her left.

“This way,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him.

They stepped out of the ship to the muler. It was a much more modern matic than Cedar had expected. Even in the poor bit of light splashing over it from the lanterns, he could see it was a sleek buggy in the front, with a wagon bed attached at the back. The wagon bed was canopied by oilskin buttoned down on three of the four sides, leaving only the back open.

If he had to put a guess to it, he’d say it hauled heavy but delicate materials, though for the life of him, he didn’t know what those might be out this far from any civilized place. Maybe nitroglycerin for Old Jack’s blasting habit.