The Irrelevant Sir Ravensdale
an excerpt

It was a little bit like being stuck inside a furnace, open as it was from the top. The encompassing ring of mounted raiders sheltered them from some wind but certainly not the sun, and Thursday could only be thankful that the afternoon was passing on. He imagined he could feel the water being drawn out of his body, bit by bit, surrendered up to the desert as payment for his presence. And some of their vision was blocked, too, by the same circle trapping everything else, keeping up its passive threat in the meantime. Who knew what was going on with Rafe out there. One could only hope that the explosion that had resounded through the air just moments ago hadn’t engulfed him somehow.

One of the raiders in the circle dismounted after a few minutes, without apparent reason, and walked half of the way toward them before pointing at Sydne and gesturing for her to come forth.

She looked at Thursday, then Damasi. No one had any answers, and she complied with a slight shrug, making her way up to the man. As soon as she was within arm’s length of him, he clapped a hand on her shoulder and gestured away in the direction of the Phoenix, saying something to her that didn’t carry across intelligibly to Thursday. Sydne shook her head, replied, and the response seemed to trigger a quiet, animated exchange.

Damasi’s low murmur came through Thursday’s ears this time, with the silence around them. “What would they want with a burning zeppelin? We haven’t got anything for cargo right now anyway except for that… you know.”

“I’m not sure,” he heard himself saying, also keeping his voice low. “You have absolutely no idea what was in it?”

“No. I’m thinking our captain did, but now that he’s gone, the only way we could find out is to open it up. And I’m not so sure anymore that we’d want to do that. What makes it different with you?” She eyed him while still trying to keep a nervous watch on the raiders. “I touched that crate before, and nothing happened.”

Thursday bit his lip, still staring across at Sydne’s back. The discussion was getting no clearer as it progressed. “Just before I got here, a bomb was left for me in the village I was staying. Sydne disarmed it, and I took it with me to study it. I had left it in the galley, and I think that’s what exploded.”

“After it was disarmed?”

“I think touching the crate was an external trigger. But I have no idea how.”

Sydne glanced back at them for only a moment before resuming her exchange with the raider.

“Can we trust her?” Damasi asked.

The question took Thursday by surprise. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I only met her a few hours ago. She says she’s on commission by a friend of mine, and it all lines up.”

A bit of silence slipped by. Damasi looked up at him again. “What if she didn’t actually disarm it? The bomb, I mean.”

“But the timing lined up perfectly, and I felt something out of the crate—”

“Was that the trigger she really needed?” Damasi persisted.

Thursday’s brow pinched. “Perhaps we’d better just have that in consideration? I don’t think we can afford to openly point fingers at anyone right now.”

“I guess you’re right.” She sighed. “Especially since we haven’t even had time to really know who everybody is yet.”

“I know what you mean.” He offered her his hand. “I’m an amateur archivist, from the north side of the Cambarough Mountains with a strange affliction no one’s ever heard of.”

“Apprenticed pilot from the eastern plateaus, with a strange affliction most people have heard of. Lycanthropy, that is.” She took his hand and shook it. “This is better progress, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Thursday smiled a little. “Compared to everyone else, we’ve known each other for years.”