Steal the Sky by Megan E. O'Keefe Page A

With an apologetic shrug Ripka stepped half into the bedroom, head cocked to one side to see whatever it was Banch had found. “What is it?” Ripka asked.
    Pelkaia knew. Slowing her breath, she slipped her hand down the side of her chair and nudged aside the flap of quilt draped over the back of it. Cold steel met her fingertips, and she coiled a fist around the grip of a hidden blade. Tensing her core muscles so that she would be braced to strike, Pelkaia leaned forward, sliding her feet back, bending her knees like springs.
    She could stash the bodies somewhere. Pretend to be Ripka in truth for a while.
    Banch thumped her bed on its post. “Let the record show that this is some fine construction.”
    â€œAh, well.” Pelkaia played off the nervous tremor in her voice with a contrite chuckle. “My Kel made it for me. Saved up his wood allowance for a year to get the materials and make it. That was after my accident, mind you. The mattress is no sel cloud but it’s llama-stuffed and just fine for me.”
    The sergeant pressed his hand into the mattress top and nodded appreciatively. “Fine mattress. Your son did good work, ma’am.”
    â€œYou’ll have to excuse Banch,” Ripka said while suppressing a smile. “He’s a connoisseur of naps.”
    He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Nothing worse than an uncomfortable rest, I stand by that.” He brushed his hands together, the search forgotten. “Might sweeten up your disposition, getting a good rest, captain.”
    â€œBut I’d still have to see you every morning. It would spoil the whole effect.”
    Despite her distaste of what these people represented, Pelkaia caught herself chuckling at their camaraderie. It would be a shame indeed if the watch captain became too much in her way. Maybe… Pelkaia chewed her lip, thinking. Maybe she could scare her off.
    â€œThank you for your time, ma’am,” Ripka said as Banch caught her eye and shrugged, a pre-arranged signal which must have meant he’d found nothing of import. “We’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.”
    â€œHappy to oblige, watch captain.”
    The official pair bowed their official thanks and crisp-stepped from her little living room into the street. They shut the door behind them, firm but without banging, leaving Pelkaia alone with her sel and her memories. She sighed and rubbed her temples. Unlike her knees, those did ache.
    Pelkaia sprang to her feet and hurried back to her bedchamber. Opened the bag, pulled a little sel out. She perched on the low bench before her vanity, staring into the pearlescent ball hovering a hand’s width from her nose. Every possible shade, hue, and texture lay within that undulating prism of lighter-than-air fluid. Gas. No one had ever been certain just what it was, only that it worked.
    She dipped her fingers into the little ball and smoothed some of it against her chin and cheek, recalling the fading freckle on the bottom of the watch captain’s chin. All the fine folk of Aransa would be at the Salt Baths by now, primping and scrubbing for the night ahead.
    If only preparing herself were as simple as a soak and a brush. She needed to start now, if she were to arrive at Thratia’s fete in time.
    Just a day ago, she would have turned herself in. So much can change in a day.

Chapter 6
    T he ferry was a narrow contraption with an open-air deck for the passengers and a closed cabin for the captain to escape his clientele within. He was a fine, proper looking captain in the sharp maroon uniform of the Imperial Fleet, with little tin and brass bars arranged up and down his broad lapels. The insignia were all nonsense, of course, but it made the gentry feel like they were getting the real airship experience.
    The captain gave the ferry’s airhorn a toot and it slithered out above the abyss, sliding along two thick guy wires attached to the underside of the