Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

nothing they had was sharp or strong enough. “Even if we could, the balloon covers the lifeboat, too. We’d never be able to find the packs before we suffocated.”
    “Dooley and Goltzius wouldn’t have taken their packs on the gliders. They’d be too heavy. We’ll use theirs.”
    “I need clothes from my cabin, first.”
    He led her down the passageway. The darkness had become oppressive, pressing down on her like the balloon on the deck—made worse by knowing that because the balloon was there, they didn’t dare light a lamp.
    In her cabin, he helped her find woolen stockings. Her heart pounded as she rolled them up her calves, wondering if he watched her. She wrapped more stockings up in a tunic to take with her. The two pairs of homespun trousers in her trunk were of a lighter weight than she wanted, best for summer, but her winter trousers were wet, and she could layer one pair over the other. She had mittens, scarves, and hats aplenty, bought with her eventual return to home in mind.
    Next to the stateroom, where she waited as he searched forboots. Relief rushed through her when he located a pair, and she vowed eternal gratitude to Maria Madalena when he returned a moment later with a heavy, hooded coat lined with mink. She put on another pair of stockings to fill out the larger boot size, then followed him to his cabin as he collected the packs, removing some of Dooley’s and Goltzius’s belongings, replacing them with their clothes.
    They ventured down to the galley kitchen, and Annika realized how starved she was when he pushed a piece of flatbread into her hand. She ripped into it, listened to him rummage through the stores. “Nothing with a strong scent,” she warned. “No blood or juices at all. The wild dogs will be on us.”
    He expelled a short breath. “It would be damned easier if we could take our own dogs.”
    “The clockwork ones?”
    “Yes. But I don’t know how we’d get them out of the cargo hold and through this whale. And they make a hell of a lot of noise—it’s likely better to sneak away.”
    Annika wasn’t so certain. The clockwork dogs and the sled might expose them to di Fiore’s men, but they’d be facing more danger than that beyond the camp. She didn’t see another option now, however. “We need something flat and light to use as snowshoes, something narrow enough to walk on—and rope to tie them to our feet.”
    “I have rope.” The rummaging quieted, as if he’d stopped to look. “The drawer faces?”
    That would do it. “Yes. We need four. I have a pry bar in the—”
    A screech sounded, the spine-cringing shriek of iron nails torn from wood.
    Or he could just use his hand. Three more times, then she heard the rasp of canvas as he arranged everything in their packs.
    A few minutes later, he helped her strap it onto her back. “All right?”
    It was lighter than many she’d carried. “Yes. Are they even?”
    “No. I’m infected by nanoagents. You’re not.”
    And much stronger because of it, less likely to tire. Fair enough. “We can leave through the cargo hold, but we’ll make noise,” she said. “It might be better to climb out of the vents in the engine room. We can find more rope in the bosun’s locker.”
    Annika’s heart thundered as they descended to the engine deck again. This was it, then. Phatéon had been her home for four years; she’d have liked to see her off in a better way.
    She’d have liked to see her off at all.
    The engine room was still slightly warmer than the rest of the ship, and the air through the vents cold, but not freezing. By touch, she tied the rope off on a pipe and waited for David to climb down from the vent’s opening, where he was studying the hold outside. Slowly, she realized that there must have been a light in the whale’s hold. Though still dark, she could just make out David’s shape against the vent, like a shadow on a black wall.
    He returned to her side, took the coiled rope from her hands. “They’ve pumped out most of the water.”
    But not all of it? She hadn’t relished the idea of wading through the icy water in her bare feet, then taking the time to put her boots back on, yet that was exactly what she’d have to do. Bending, she started to untie the laces.
    “What are you doing?”
    “There’s no point in having dry boots if I just soak them again.”
    “Leave them on.” His voice stopped her. “I’ll carry you.”
    “And then your feet will—” Freeze.