The Clockwork Dagger Read Online Free PDF

six-by-seven-foot rectangle. A padded bench jutted out with a large silver object lying flat against the wall above it. On the far wall, a sink showed a few splashes of water still on the aluminum surface, a small mirror on an arm to one side. Across from the bench, a few curtains denoted what must be a closet. No wonder Mr. Garret had emphasized the promenade and smoke room for socializing.
    â€œNow, now, it won’t be that uncomfortable,” said Mrs. Stout, clucking her tongue.
    â€œWas my expression so obvious?” asked Octavia.
    â€œWell, it is a bit of a shock on your first excursion. This lower bunk is yours. When we’re ready for sleep, we signal a steward and he makes up our beds.” She motioned to a pull cord and then to the large silver rectangle flush with the wall. That had to be the upper bunk. “Is there anything you need to hang in the closet?”
    â€œOh. No. Not right away, certainly.” Octavia hadn’t given thought to how Miss Percival’s advice on secrecy extended to the packing of her garments. Her warded medician uniform was folded atop her other clothes in her suitcase. “I assume they bring a ladder to access that bunk?”
    â€œYes, that will all come in the evening, along with the pillows, bedding, and tenting for privacy.” Mrs. Stout edged over to sit on the bed. She held up a small paperbound book—a pulp mystery novel, its cover depicting a terrified woman fleeing from a tall figure in a pointed brown hood. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been sitting here. I had hoped to meet my roommate in privacy, rather than guessing who you would be amongst the other ladies. You never know the sorts you’ll meet on an airship.” She punctuated the statement with a regal sniff.
    â€œNo, no, that’s fine. I’d rather make your acquaintance without others prying.” Others, meaning Mr. Drury. She sat down beside Mrs. Stout. The bed seemed quite firm, not even squeaking beneath their weight. She glanced up. The ladder would have to be a solid five feet in height. Mrs. Stout showed no outward health issues, nor did her body reveal any unusual musical tones. She seemed quite healthy for someone about a half century in age.
    â€œMrs. Stout, would you prefer the lower bunk? I’m quite fine with climbing to the upper bed.”
    A dazzling smile caused Mrs. Stout’s cheeks to round like risen muffins. “Oh. Truly? It would be easier on me. As my dear husband liked to say, I’m in good enough shape to be requisitioned by the government, but I can still be a bit unsteady at times. You’re an absolute sweetheart for thinking of my comforts! If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, child?”
    â€œTwenty-two.”
    â€œGoodness. My two children are barely older than you. Now, how was your ride into Vorana today? Is the North Road as rough as always?”
    Octavia stilled. “How did you know I came in on the North Road?”
    Mrs. Stout made a dismissive flick of her wrist. “I saw you riding into town.”
    My carriage was enclosed. She regarded her new roommate with leery eyes, suddenly reminded of her troubled encounter with Mr. Drury. “The North Road isn’t a pleasant ride in a wagon, but that sort of motion doesn’t usually disturb me.”
    â€œAh, that old road never changes. As I always say, ‘Adversity steels the will, and the stomach. Only some stomachs have an easier time of it than others.’ ”
    It was a saying Miss Percival had been known to quote as well, and Octavia had never heard it elsewhere. Perhaps it was a generational thing, as the two women were likely close in age. Or perhaps there was something more to this Mrs. Stout.
    â€œAre you from Vorana?” asked Octavia.
    â€œNo. Nearer the coast, actually. Haven’t been here in years.” Mrs. Stout’s smile dimmed. “So, child, how—”
    A loud bell rang