Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

her back up—and everyone tips theirs the first few times.”
    She followed him through the chest hatch, waited as he closed her up. The mist on her face was freezing, not quite as pleasant now. She tugged her hat down over sweaty curls.
    Snow crunched under their feet. No dog tracks marked the fresh fall, but a few hare trails told her they wouldn’t be far away. The bottom of the bowl carved by the waterfall spread south into a rolling plain. The troll’s tracks along the riverbanks had almost filled. She glanced up into the cloudy sky.
    Annika couldn’t see anything through the dark and the heavy flakes. “Do you see the airship?”
    He pointed to the southeast. If they’d still been on the beach, they’d have been overtaken at any minute. “You were right to stop.”
    “It’s just habit—it’s what you do when driving a troll. They’re useful, but as soon as you’re seen by an outsider, you run away and hide as quickly as possible.”
    “Like a rabbit.”
    “A big, powerful one.” She smiled with him. “We should name her after one.”
    He nodded. “Rabbits are supposed to bring good fortune.”
    “Truly?” She liked that.
    “Yes. According to my father’s people, at least.”
    Perhaps they were right. This one had been lucky so far. “Austra Longears.”
    His brows rose. “Longears?”
    “Do you think ‘Tastylegs’ is better? She’s a rabbit.”
    He grinned. “Longears, it is. What did you call the troll you drove before?”
    “Rutger Fatbottom.” She laughed at his expression. “I didn’t name him! He was passed down to me. But he does have a hefty engine back there.”
    Unlike David, who faced away from her to study the slope of the cliffs. “Tomorrow, I’ll climb up and make certain there’s nothing else we need to avoid ahead of us.”
    Annika nodded, looked back at the waterfall. Inside the bowl, ice from the mist covered the bottom half of the cliffs. “When I was here last, it was a cloudless night and the moon was full. There was a rainbow.”
    “At night?”
    “Yes. During the day, too, with the sun shining down on the mosses against the rocks, catching all of those drops like sequins.Beautiful. But the rainbow at night was so unexpected, so incredible. Do they know what does it?”
    “No. We know water acts like a prism, but we don’t know why the light is made of different colors—though there are several theories.”
    He knew so much. Annika felt as if she’d been constantly learning since leaving Hannasvik, whether she put any effort into it or not, and there was still so much more to know. So many things it never occurred to her to ask about. She tilted her head back.
    “Sometimes on clear nights, lights dance across the sky. Have you seen them?”
    “In Norway, and in Far Maghreb.”
    Far north and south. “When I was a girl, I used to stay up on clear nights, waiting. They always came on the nights I didn’t wait, so I was never ready, rushing out in my nightclothes—and then shivering while watching.” Perhaps they were up there tonight, above the clouds. “Do they know what makes them?”
    “No. A few think that the world moving in orbit forces the æther to compress near the poles, and that the greater density creates a prism. Others think that the æther is already denser in some spots than others, and the lights come and go as we move through the different densities.”
    “You don’t think so?”
    “Not just me—many others don’t. The pattern isn’t regular enough. If we’re orbiting at the same speed, through the same space every year, we should be able to predict the lights. But we can’t. So the rest of us just admit we don’t know.”
    She was surprised. “I’ve noticed that’s difficult for New Worlders: admitting you don’t know.”
    His laugh burst out on a frozen puff of air. “Perhaps. But for my mother, too, I remember.”
    Ah, well. She grinned. “My mother, too.”
    “So it is not just a New World affliction?”
    “I suppose not. But at least we don’t always try to take the brown out of bread. Why do you do that?”
    Still laughing, David shook his head. “God knows.”
    “It’s like eating raw dough.”
    “I wouldn’t know—but at least I’ve never eaten raw dough.”
    She wrinkled her nose at him, then sighed. “I stole it. My mother wouldn’t let me try a piece. I should have listened to her.”
    “That bad?” His laughter quieted as she nodded. “Do you miss home?”
    “Yes. My mother more