Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) by Ben Galley

these days.’
    Lurker tried his hand at some persuading.
    ‘Ma’am,’ he began, taking off his hat and stepping forward. Higgis took a contemplative drag of her half-dead cigarette. ‘Tell you what. We call it sixty, and you’ll have an extra helper for this journey.’
    Higgis looked down at Lurker’s gloved hands as if the shape and size of them alone might convince her. They seemed to meet her approval. ‘You ever worked an airship before, sir?’
    ‘Worked on ships aplenty, in my younger days.’
    ‘You serve in the war?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    There was an uncomfortable moment as the cigarette was chewed and rolled around tobacco-stained lips. ‘Which side?’ It was a dangerous question. There were some that had never stopped fighting, deep in the darkest reaches of the New Kingdom.
    ‘The rightful one, ma’am.’ Lurker replied.
    Higgis laughed at that, a hoarse chuckle. ‘Fair enough, sir. Good answer. I’ll work you hard, mind. I run a tight ship,’ she explained, eliciting a snort from Lilain. ‘And I expect my passengers to stay out of my crew’s way.’
    Lurker bobbed his head. ‘That’s fair to me. If work ain’t hard then it ain’t work.’
    Higgis laughed again. ‘I like you, sir. You’ll do just fine. Tower Nine. You got one hour. I leave at four, sharp. And by sharp, I mean razor. You understand?’
    ‘Absolutely, ma’am.’
    ‘Be there at quarter-to.’
    ‘Sharp.’
    Higgis flashed more of her stained teeth and sauntered off. ‘You’re catchin’ on quick.’
    Lilain waited until the door had slammed shut before she spoke.
    ‘John Hobble, you smooth talker.’
    ‘You know me.’
    ‘Apparently, I don’t.’
    Lurker gave his usual shrug. ‘I jus’ know the type. Met more than my fair share in the war. Her sort always likes havin’ someone new beneath ‘em to shout at and order about. Makes ‘em feel big. Besides, we ain’t got much choice, do we?’
    ‘No, we do not. Nor time.’
    It took them the best part of an hour to find Tower Nine, and by the time they arrived, they were skirting around the margin of lateness. Higgis seemed to have a passion for leaning; she was now propped up against a support girder, once again with a cigarette hanging from her lip. Lurker couldn’t tell if it was the same one or a fresh victim, doomed to die of boredom before it turned to ash.
    He looked up at the fat lump hanging several hundred feet over their heads, tethered to the ironwork of the tower by thick ropes and a flimsy-looking walkway. ‘It still ain’t natural,’ he muttered, as he eyed the airship’s bulbous nose, painted red like a target, and its fabric and steel flanks—ash grey—sporting a few hollow dents that caught the afternoon light. There were a number of disjointed patches too, old repairs, beaten and riveted into place. That didn’t give Lurker much confidence.
    It wasn’t the biggest airship he had ever seen. Probably no more than two hundred yards long from nose to rudder. Built for small cargo runs, no doubt; or a handful of passengers. Its tail fins were also a bright scarlet red, sun-bleached in places. Around them sat the halo of engines, buzzing away to themselves. The grey gondola clinging to its belly was sleek and narrow, tracing the contours of the hull, punctured in seemingly random places by portholes. Red stripes had been painted along the side, no doubt to cover some of the rust.
    ‘Ain’t natural at all.’
    ‘I told you to pipe down,’ Lilain chided him. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’
    ‘Safer than a ship,’ Gunderton added. He had been silent since their friendly chat in the alleyway. They had almost forgot he was there. His hood had been hoisted back up, and he walked with his arms crossed; a trait Lurker had always mistrusted.
    ‘You’re cuttin’ it fine,’ Higgis remarked as they approached.
    ‘It wasn’t easy to find,’ said Lilain. She watched Higgis’ gaze wander up to the large steel ‘9’ hanging from the iron tower