Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

coaxed her out of homespun trousers and into a skirt. And whenever someone had asked where she’d come from, his mother only replied with a smile.
    As a boy, David had never asked. She’d been with him, she’d been fierce in her love, and that was all that had mattered. Only later had he discovered that his father had asked often—terrified that she’d leave and he wouldn’t know where to find her.
    But his father had lost Inga Helgasdottor anyway. They both had.
    Now David had found a woman who didn’t swagger, who didn’t appear as strong or as wild, but who seemed similar in essentials, as full of life—and he wouldn’t lose this one.
    Despite that certainty, sudden fear squeezed his lungs when she reached Phatéon ’s deck and disappeared over the side. She was gone.
    David forced himself not to chase after her. His mechanical legs had been designed to provide stability over rough terrain, but balancing his feet on drooping rope rungs was another matter. Climbing the ladder would be a precarious and awkward pursuit—and unless she could fly, there was nowhere else for her to go until Phatéon docked in Iceland, anyway. Better to wait for the cargo lift.
    It wouldn’t be a long wait. A steamcoach rumbled up to the mooring station. Seated beside the driver, Dooley scowled down at David in a way that said he wasn’t truly upset. When Patrick Dooley was angry, his pale face became as hard and as red as a brazier.
    With the grating squeal of rusted brakes, the vehicle stopped. Dooley hopped to the ground, a little less spry than when David had met him eight years ago, just before their first expedition. Since then, most of the digger’s abundant brown hair had migrated from the top of his head to his jaw, with gray threading through it. A heavy mink hat protected his now bald pate, and the furred bulk offered the impression of a disproportionately large head sitting atop Dooley’s wiry body.
    His scowl deepened with every step he took toward David. “You’ve made a liar out of me, Kentewess!”
    Not likely. David had never met any man as proud of his own honesty as Dooley was—or who so often hid his amusement witha frown. His friend often attempted to appear hard and cynical, yet rarely succeeded.
    No surprise, then, that David liked him so well. “Did I?”
    “You did.” The digger glanced back at the coach, where Regnier Goltzius gave directions to the stevedores who would unload their equipment. “I just wagged on to the Dutchman that you were incapable of speaking to a female for more than three minutes.”
    Unlikely to speak to a woman, yes. But unable to? “I’m capable.”
    “Not that I’ve ever seen.” The scowl cracked for a moment, revealing the amusement beneath. “You’re incapable—or too terrified. The answer is yours to pick.”
    Christ. How would he get out of this one? Dooley always turned every opinion based on observation into fact, and only hard evidence could counter it. Problem was, David couldn’t easily recall any conversation of late that had lasted more than a few minutes, unless it was with a member of a recent expedition or a colleague.
    Ah. There was his answer. “Inoue Nanami.”
    “The madwoman who floated a jellyfish balloon over Krakatoa?” Dooley swept his hat off and knocked it against his leg, shaking free a shower of raindrops. More drizzled onto his head. “You listened as she gave a lecture to the Society. That’s no conversation.”
    “I spoke with her.”
    “You tossed questions at her when she’d finished—and every one of them was relayed through her translator. As I see it, you were only speaking to him .”
    Damn it. With a laugh, David shook his head. “But now you’ve seen me with this woman for twice that length of time. So did I prove you wrong or make a liar out of you?”
    No reason to let Dooley know that although he’d walked with the woman for more than three minutes, the noise of the docks had prevented them from speaking for a good portion of it. Their conversationhad been long enough to make David certain that she had answers, and brief enough to make him frustrated that he couldn’t solicit them from her.
    Dooley took the less offensive choice. “I’ll admit I’ve been proved wrong.”
    “Good man,” David said. “When I’ve reached your great age, I hope I’ll admit defeat as gracefully as you do.”
    The older man snorted. “If you’ve brains enough to survive as long.”
    “So it was your brains that