The captain’s gaze roamed briefly over her bare skin before lingering on her bandage and then returning to her eyes. “It’s nice to see you feeling good enough to be sitting,” he said as he walked off into the shadows of the room a bit, then returned with a chair into the warm wash of lantern light.
He put the chair next to her cot and sat there, next to her. “Sorry for the landing. Not the smoothest flight I’ve ever offered a passenger.”
“Oh, no, it was wonderful.”
“Wonderful?” he asked. “That medicine Mrs. Lindson gave you must be clouding your memories a bit. Maybe I ought to give it to all my passengers.” He smiled and it put light in his eyes, and an ease in all the rest of him.
Captain Cage was wide at the shoulder, with hair the color of gold and a face that looked like it would fit in just fine with those heroes of Nordic myths. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, which only gave him a sort of devil-may-care air, which she should not find so heart-stoppingly handsome.
But he was. And so far, had been kind to her too.
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t enjoy it,” Rose said. “I’ve always fancied what it might be like to pilot an airship, to harvest glim.”
“Well, I can tell you just what it’s like,” Captain Hink said. “Have you ever ridden a horse so fast it’s taken your breath away?”
Rose nodded.
“It’s like that but with more power. Steam train will almost give you the feel of it, except instead of barreling down a track, you’re shooting for the sky, with no rattle of the earth in your bones, and nothing but the soft green fire of glim burning in the sky around you.
“Up there, glim seems so strong and real. You think maybe you could lean out the window to feel the drag of it across your fingertips, taste it on your tongue, or catch a whiff of fragrance. But there’s no sensing it that way, no sense to it at all. Glim is a feast for the eyes only, though some say they’ve heard it ring like an angels’ chorus of bells on the wind.”
He shrugged and slouched in the chair a bit, relaxing into this. “We catch it with nets.” He spread his arms out wide. “Long-armed outrigging that drags through the sky, gathering glim on the strands, like pollen on a bee’s butt. Those strands draw the glim down to finer threads, where it collects like liquid in large glass globes. Can’t box glim up in too small a spot. It’s always looking for a way out, a way back to the sky, I reckon. Keep too tight a hold on it, and it will burst its cage.
“I’ve always thought glim and those who harvest it are much the same in that way. Too much of the need for the open sky in them. But then, I suppose you’ve heard all about how glim is got. Didn’t mean to rattle on.”
“No, it’s fine. More than fine,” Rose said. “I’ve heard some of how it is harvested, read about it in the papers. But that’s all. If you don’t mind, Captain—”
“Lee,” he said.
“If you don’t mind, Lee,” Rose said, liking the sound of his name on her lips, “I’d love to hear more.”
“More about glim,” he asked quietly, “or more about me?”
Rose held his gaze steady, glad she wasn’t blushing from that look he was giving her. A look she was giving him right back. “Both.”
He nodded and leaned in a little closer to her. “I’d be happy to oblige you on both accounts, Rose.”
She liked the sound of her name on his lips too.
Mae stepped into the room. Captain Hink leaned away, but his smile, and the heat in his eyes, did not dampen as Mae walked over to the bed.
“Captain Hink,” Mae said. “Thank you for keeping Miss Small company. I hope you haven’t tired her out too much before her hot meal.”
“Not at all,” Rose said. “He’s been telling me about glim.”
“Has he?” Mae said. “That’s certainly an interesting subject.”
“Just so,” Captain Hink said. “Of course, not much is known as to the whys of glim: why it gathers above the mountains, why it has such restorative powers, or even where, exactly, it comes from.”
“Doesn’t it come from the storms?” Mae set a plate down on the crate next to Rose’s cot and turned with a bowl and spoon.
“It’s not known, really,” Hink said. “I’ve gathered glim on a clear day just as often as above some of the worst lightning storms the range can cook up. There are men with better minds who have tried to argue it out. Haven’t heard they’ve agreed on an answer yet.”
“I’d love to read up on the theories,” Rose said.
“Not until you eat something.” Mae picked up the bowl.
“Let me give you some room for that.” Hink stood.
“No, that’s fine,” Mae said. “It’s no bother.”
“Nonsense. I take up more room than a man ought, and I’d rather not be in the way of Miss Small’s meal.” He stepped around the chair and Mae took his place, settling in next to Rose’s bed.
“Think you can try some broth?” Mae asked. “Mr. Seldom is a surprisingly fine cook.”
Hink chuckled. “I don’t keep him on the ship for his conversational prowess. Ladies.” He tipped his head in a nod.
“Are you leaving?” Rose asked. She really wasn’t hungry, and wasn’t hurting enough to ignore the sheer restlessness rolling through her.
She wanted out of the bed, out of the room. Wanted to explore this mountain, or maybe go see the Swift again while she was awake, aware.
“I have a few things to see to,” the captain said. “Ship repairs being one of those things. I’m thinking if we get all hands on her, we can fly out by the end of the day tomorrow. Dawn next, the latest.”
“That would be a very good turn of events, Captain Hink,” Mae said. “The sooner we can be on the road again…well, I suppose sky again, the sooner we will set right our troubles.”
“I most certainly hope that is so,” he said.
“So,” Mae said, after Hink had left the room, “are you feeling strong enough to do this on your own, or would you like some help?”
“I think if you place the bowl on my thigh, I might be able to handle it.”
Mae helped her to get situated, and Rose took a spoonful of the soup. The broth was rich and filled with meat and had soft salted dumplings in it. If she’d been in better health she might have enjoyed the meal very much. Right now, she just wanted to get out of the bed and follow Captain Hink to watch him inspect the ship.
She could learn so much from him. Might even learn how to fly. Molly had seemed happy with her help on the boilers. Maybe she’d let her help again.
If she had time. If she lived.
In answer to those two grim thoughts, Rose applied herself to the broth. Once a person stopped eating, it was never long until they were in the grave. And she was not going to lie down to rest easily.
After she had determinedly gotten through half of the soup, she gave the spoon and bowl over to Mae in exchange for a cup of water lightly laced with brandy.
“Never drank so much in my life,” Rose said.
“Just to keep the pain at bay,” Mae answered, tidying up things.
Two of the men from Captain Hink’s ship sauntered into the room and dropped down on cots. They didn’t even take the time to undress or shed their boots and harnesses before they were snoring softly.
Molly Gregor showed up next, and tromped over to Rose’s bed.
“Well, don’t you look perky?” She smiled, and dragged her breathing gear off over her head. “I suppose the menfolk will sleep up on that side of the room, so us fine ladies can retire in relative modesty here. Not that I’m much used to modesty, traveling with those yokels.”
She held her breathing gear and goggles in one hand, then looked around, trying to decide where to drop them. She finally took the cot that was set somewhere between the men’s cots and Rose’s. She dropped the gear at the head of the bed, then sat. She unlaced her boots and sighed.
“I do get tired of the boots,” she said, staring down at her stockinged feet as she wiggled her toes. “Now.” She got up and watched Mae fuss about with blankets and such around Rose’s bed.
She gave Rose a wink. “Is there anything you might need my help with, Mrs. Lindson?”