Heart of Steel Read Free

them.
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    Yours,
    Archimedes
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    P.S. Archimedes Fox and His Brilliant Acquisitions.
    Chatham, England
    September 6
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    Zenobia—
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    Quickly, for Lady Corsair is about to depart, and I must hand this letter over to the porter before the captain fires the engines.
    The Iron Duke is aboard. I have been recognized and exposed by that damned pirate, but I still live. I wore my yellow waistcoat. I’m certain that our favorite mercenary rather fancied me before she threatened to slit my throat. She relented when I reminded her that she would lose out on the price of my passage—and I am certain that she also recalled that she will receive a quarter of my salvage, if any.
    I have learned her name: Yasmeen. She’s as magnificent as I’d hoped, and I’m tempted to write poetry celebrating her green eyes, tight breeches, and sharp blades. If she gives me the least bit of encouragement, I will fall in love.
    If I do not return, you should make an arrangement with her to provide stories for new adventures. I am certain that she would agree, as long as she receives a percentage of your royalties—and as long as those royalties don’t come in English pounds. She is a mercenary, not a fool.
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    Completely wrecked and ridiculous,
    Archimedes
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    P.S. Do not begin scheming yet! I shall return, of course. I will be three weeks in Venice, add on a few days for the flight; you should expect a letter this time next month, and my visit a few days after—unless I have found something worth taking to auction. If I have, I will head directly to the Ivory Market, but I will send a letter regardless, including every detail of the encounter between Archimedes Fox and the Captivating Captain Cutthroat.
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    Venice
    October 8
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    Zenobia,
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    You are expecting a letter this week, but I am only now writing it. I’ve little hope that you will be able to read the words when you eventually receive it; the ink bleeds on the damp paper even as I stroke my pen. Everything in Venice is damp, grown over with mold and ivy.
    It has taken me almost seven days to travel half a mile, though when I first arrived, I was traveling the same distance through the canals in an hour. The breathing apparatus works perfectly. The food pack that the inventor in Copenhagen promised was watertight began leaking swamp water within a day, however, and my supplies rotted within a week—even my gunpowder is soaked and my pistols are useless. I dare not risk the same leaks in my satchel. I have made an Astonishing Discovery, one that will solve my Awful Dilemma. Yet it will be all for naught if my discovery becomes wet.
    If I were a practical man of good sense and judgment, I would abandon the treasure and make an attempt to recover it later, or take the risk that the satchel would remain watertight. But we both know that if I do not pay off this debt soon, I will not have another chance. I have killed too many of his assassins. Soon, he will send one that I cannot possibly defeat.
    So I am on foot, traveling from deteriorating roof to deteriorating roof. Fifteen minutes ago, it began raining, and I’ve taken shelter in one of the upper chambers of a palazzo. Water has flooded the ground levels, and so the zombies are trapped in the building—God knows how long they have been trapped here, three hundred years perhaps—and I have provided them their first entertainment in as long. I can hear them mobbing the door. But I am in luck. Unlike most of the houses, the wood has not rotted, and the interior walls still stand. I will try to take a rest while it rains, but I fear sleeping too long.
    I am late returning to the airship. By some miracle, Lady Corsair still waits for me. I can see her white balloon from my window, hovering over the rusted ruins of the great basilica, exactly where I asked her captain to meet me a week ago. Was it only my waistcoat, is it the remainder of my payment, or does she