Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

earful.
    “Saints preserve us!” came a petite, though stern voice as the door to the lift opened. “It’s bad enough ya smoke that bleedin’ thing in the first place! Do ya have to do it where you know I’ll be walkin?”
    Knowing he was in trouble anyway, plus the fact his pipe was pretty well smoked out, Vance attempted to blow one last smoke ring, again a dismal failure, in the direction of the grease covered woman who now stood near him. “I’m sorry Wingnut, I had no idea you’d be passing this way,” he said a little too unconvincingly.
    Molly, whom everyone simply called Wingnut, narrowed her eyes at him, “That’s a bald-faced lie and ya know it, sir.” She only called him ‘sir’ when she wanted to pick a fight, like a parent using a child’s full name to drive a point home. “And just where do ya think I’d be comin’ from? There’s only so many ways to get from the engine room to the rest o’ this blasted ship!”
    Both of them stared at each other for a few seconds, Vance was the first to start smiling. Wingnut, unable to carry on the ruse of real anger, let out a laugh, though she did punch Vance in the arm, fairly hard, her Irish blood making up for her small stature.
    “How are we set for coal?” Vance asked his engineer as he tapped out the remains of his pipe.
    “We should be fine,” Wingnut answered. We’re going on half steam right now, which is more than enough given the nice weather we’re flying through.” It always amused Vance to see the change in the level of accent that accompanied Wingnut’s moods. The accent itself was clearly there to stay no matter how long she remained absent from the Emerald Isle, though the angrier she got, even in jest, the louder and more heavily accented her speech became. When she was truly angry, her speech could be nigh near incomprehensible. Given her propensity for swearing when angry, it was probably for the best. She continued, “The coal we gave those stranded folks really didn’t cut into our supply too much. I wouldn’t want to cross any oceans, but we should be fine till we get to Germany.” She added somewhat distantly, “I’m glad we helped them.”
    “As am I,” Vance replied remembering the stranded ship they aided two days ago. It had been a moderately sized vessel, full of a few families looking for an uninhabited upland to carve a new life out of. They had run out of coal and had been adrift for two days, floating at about two thousand feet. Their burner had been consuming the ore very inefficiently, a problem Wingnut had been quick to identify. With a few spare parts she had quickly fixed the problem while teaching their mechanic in the process. When they had first seen the disabled ship, their crew were considering descending to the surface to find some coal or wood to burn and get their boilers going again. Vance had strenuously advised against that; the area they were flying over was fairly remote, and landing their families in an unarmed craft, could prove dangerous. After consulting with his crew, as the value of the coal was partially theirs, Vance had presented them with enough to get to a nearby city, where they could find work to refuel, resupply, and hopefully be on their way. They had offered payment of course, but Vance had dismissed that notion, seeing their near indigent circumstances.
    Without further conversation, she returned to the lift and continued on to the deck below. Apparently she had only stopped the lift to berate his smoking near ‘her’ area of the ship. Vance watched her go, her small frame almost swimming in the overlarge jumpsuit that was the de facto working outfit, which seemed to be all the time. The jumpsuit was old, and showed signs of repair and mending through the ever present grease stains. A dozen pockets held all sorts of tools, the purpose of some Vance could only guess. It was this same jumpsuit she had been wearing the day they had met, and although he knew she wore it only