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

and then back to her; a condescending glint in her green gaze.
    ‘Right,’ drawled the captain, before jacking a thumb over her shoulder. ‘No baggage?’
    The trio shook their heads. They had all they needed in their pockets and packs.
    ‘Then follow me.’
    Up and up they wound, their boots beating a disjointed rhythm on the spiralling iron steps. Lurker swore he could feel the darned tower quivering in the breeze, which seemed to get stronger every step they climbed.
    Through the criss-cross patchwork of the girders, he stared down at Washingtown, spread out below them like an intricate model, cut down the centre by the lazy shimmer of the Potomac. Behind them, the Ivory House sat like a pearl in a green oyster, and Lurker found himself sighing. Even though the solemnity and ceremony of the place hadn’t suited him in the slightest; even though the beds were too soft and made his back itch; even though the city noise kept him awake and made him pine for the stars and silence of the desert, he had found a kind of calm there. It was a calm he hadn’t felt since he’d had a home and a wife, and after the turbulence of the last few months, that was something to be missed. He found himself sniffing deeply, trying to drink in the last scents of the Endless Land before the bloated beast above his head whisked him away from it.
    At the peak of the tower, the breeze was refreshingly cold, but it gusted in a way that made Lurker’s leather hands squeak against the iron railings. Lilain seemed to find it all rather amusing.
    ‘The big bad prospector, afraid of heights,’ she tittered, looking back over her shoulder. Higgis had told them to wait while she went to check on their cabins.
    ‘I ain’t afraid. I just don’t like it is all. If man was supposed to stand this high, we’d have stilts for legs.’
    Gunderton piped up. ‘It’s called technology. Progress.’
    ‘That’s what I said,’ Lilain chimed in.
    Lurker still didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him, and at that moment he would have happily lobbed him a fair distance.
    ‘I’ve seen enough strife caused by technology and progress over the years. Don’t mean they’re good things.’
    Gunderton didn’t seem to have an answer and Lurker sniffed again, victorious.
    Higgis came striding back along the walkway as if she were marching along nothing but a wide street, and not a shaking, spindly arrangement of cables and wooden planks. Lurker could feel himself sweating under his hat, which was constantly trying to escape his head and hurl itself back to earth.
    ‘Come aboard then, and mind your step,’ Higgis smirked, noticing Lurker’s downward-sloping face and tight grip on the railings.
    ‘You first, Lil.’
    ‘Ever the gentleman!’ Lilain took to the walkway with purpose. A few long strides, and she was standing in the doorway of the airship, beckoning. With Lurker still hanging back, Gunderton was shoved forward next. He followed Lilain’s act with ease.
    Lurker muttered to himself. He put out a ponderous boot and felt the walkway wobble. He sniffed, cursed inwardly, and forced himself to take a step. And another. And another, until he was across, and Lilain winced at the tight grip of his hand. As soon as he felt the gentler sway of the airship under his soles, he tugged the brim of his hat and complained no more.
    ‘Welcome to The Cloudy Belle , finest ship to float out of Missipine,’ Higgis announced.
    “Finest” was not the first word that came to their minds. The cramped interior of the airship’s gondola was sorely in need of a lick of paint and a cloth. Lurker didn’t care too much about cleanliness and appearances, but it was the scrapings of rust he could spy that made him swallow against a dry throat.
    There was a stench to the place; of motor oil and the reluctance to shower. It was a bustle of activity. Men and women rushed about the corridors, wielding spanners and crates. Short, tall, thick in the waistline, or