“You get used to it,” said Evis in a whisper.
“I don’t plan to. She’s a lovely boat, Evis, every inch of her. I think you said something earlier about a meager meal of some sort? Cold biscuits and jerky, I think it was.”
He laughed. “All right. I can show you the rest tomorrow. Think you can find your rooms without falling overboard?”
“Probably. In any case, I can swim.”
“Well, don’t drip all over the carpet if you do. Be at the casino, near the stage, in two hours. We’ll put the chef to the test.”
I knew damned well Evis would sit behind an empty plate and sip something thick and dark from a fine crystal glass.
“Sounds good.”
A groan and a rumble rose up from somewhere deep inside the Queen. Evis bit back a cuss word and whirled to face Gertriss.
“They’re starting the engine test early,” he said. “Are you sure you want to watch?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. See you, boss, Mrs. Boss!”
Darla laughed. Evis hurried off, Gertriss on his arm, leaving us standing in an empty hall while the late afternoon sun slanted down through the ranks of windows.
“Your friend Evis seems a bit preoccupied,” said Darla. I’d started walking down the hall so that the sun was on my left. I hoped my air of confidence lent the impression I had any idea where I was going.
“He’s a vampire turned gambling magnate about to launch an untested steam-boat in a bid for political immortality. That’s enough to distract anyone.”
“Ha. You saw it too, and don’t pretend you didn’t. They’re a couple, and for some reason he’s not comfortable acknowledging it. I wonder why?”
“That I can answer. She’s four feet tall and handy with a meat cleaver. You’ll be able to hear the howls of anguish all the way downtown when Mama figures out who Gertriss is walking out with.”
“Mama’s not here, though.”
“True. But if anybody can jinx this, it’s Mama and her mouth.”
“She’s going to find out eventually.”
“Which is why friend Evis is trying to make eventually as far in the future as he can. I don’t blame him.”
“Mama’s not that bad. All she can do is bluster.”
I shook my head. We rounded a corner, came to a wide staircase, began to wind our way down it. I was glad I’d somehow missed another stroll in front of the Regent’s killing crew.
“It’s not the bluster Evis is afraid of, wife of mine. It’s the questions she’ll ask. The ones you and I and for all I know, Evis and Gertriss are avoiding.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then she took my hand.
“Oh.” We walked down in silence for a bit. “Mama would do that?”
“Hell yes, she would. I can hear her now. She’d ask Gertriss if she meant to risk getting turned, or she’d ask Evis if he planned to watch Gertriss grow old and die. She’d do it without blinking.”
“So which do you think it will be?”
“Not a clue. Not my business. Maybe they don’t know either. But the where and the when that question gets asked, if it ever does, ought to be up to them. Not Mama. But that’s not the way it will play out if Mama gets wind of this.”
We reached the next-to-the-last landing and counted room numbers until we found ours. Darla didn’t speak of Evis and Gertriss again, and neither did I.
Ever the intrepid investigator, I put my mental skills to good use by flopping down on the bed and going immediately to sleep. I felt Darla drop down beside me just before I dozed.
“I hope they’re happy, whatever they decide,” she murmured, close by my ear. “As happy as us for as long as they can be.”
“Amen,” I said, and then I slept.
We were awakened by a gentle knock at the door. A steward reminded us dinner was in three quarters of an hour, and left a silver tray and a silver coffee urn behind.
Darla bathed and applied makeup and dressed. I slumped against the headboard and drank coffee and only rose when Darla threatened to cut off my hair unless I washed it.
Somehow, we made it to the casino deck right on time. Darla was wearing a dark blue gown with ruffles at the shoulders. I’d thrown my Army dress jacket over my rumpled white shirt and put a loose knot in my best black tie.
We were greeted at the casino landing by a pair of nervous waiters.
“Right this way, sir, madam,” managed one. The other forged ahead, making a big show of moving chairs and any other potential obstacles out of our way. Darla shook her head and hid a grin.
Evis and Gertriss were already seated at a big round table near the empty stage. Mr. Lavit, the wine steward, and a dapper older gentleman in old-fashioned black tails hovered over them, fussing with glasses and exchanging hushed conversations about, I suppose, silverware and salt shakers. A trio of magelamps on head-high stands bathed the table in a pool of gentle light.
Five chairs sat about the table, and I wondered who the extra seat was for.
Evis looked up and waved at us. Gertriss did the same. They both popped out of their seats when we stepped into the magelight.
“Glad you could join us,” said Evis. He sounded like he meant it.
A somber gentleman joined us and made a small bow. “Sir, madam. I am Dutson. It will be my pleasure to serve you this evening. Madam, welcome to the Queen’s finest table.”
He pulled out Darla’s chair, and she took her place at the Queen’s finest table. I seated myself, which was apparently the signal Evis and Gertriss were waiting for because they both took their places and settled down for some serious not-smiling.
Dutson snapped his fingers and a pair of gilt-edged menus appeared. And by appeared I mean just that-they popped into existence like a stage magician’s fat white rabbit.
Being the sophisticated and urbane diner, I acknowledged this bit of sorcerous whimsy with a nod and focused on the menu.
The lettering glowed. The little drawing of the Queen at the bottom puffed real smoke and paddled its way slowly across the paper as I read. There wasn’t a price anywhere in sight lest, I supposed, diners of meager means throw themselves overboard by the dozen.
Dutson extolled the virtues of the evening’s specials, describing each in rapt tones priests strive for but rarely achieve. Darla nodded and smiled and even asked a few questions. I fought back the urge to demand a ham sandwich on plain white bread and studied the beer offerings instead.
Evis wound up ordering for everyone, which was probably best because I couldn’t pronounce half the dishes. I made a silent vow to order a sandwich and vampire dining propriety be damned if Dutson returned with anything that moved or still had its eyes.
Wine glasses were placed before us, and were filled by a nervous young man who could use more sunlight. Evis swirled his drink around in his glass and frowned at it, as though the beverage had somehow given insult. Gertriss guffawed and lifted her glass and took a long sip.
“It’s good,” she said to Darla. “Ignore Evis. He thinks he has an educated nose.”
Evis was about to defend the discernment of his nostrils when all hell broke loose.
Red lamps hidden away in the Queen’s ceiling trim began to flash. Horns blew. Men shouted and other men answered, and by the time Darla set her wine glass down we were ringed by a dozen black-clad Avalante soldiers who put their backs to our table and kept their long guns pointed out into the dark.
Evis rose, all business, speaking into a smooth black box he held to his ear.
Gertriss took another sip of wine before casually brandishing a twin to the silver gun she’d given Darla.
I filled my own hand with the latest in projectile weaponry, and was pleased to see that Darla had done the same, making the Queen’s finest dining table also its most heavily armed, and all before the salads were served.
Evis went pale. That’s no small feat for a man with skin the color of a white onion.