Pascale Auber & the Ruritanian Riddle

II The Airship - 2

"What's this, then?" An oily voice said.

I turned to see the black-clad figure of Doctor Roderick Simpelstur himself advancing towards me. He looked exactly like the photographs I had seen if him, only in full colour, taller and more muscular than expected. My heart pounded in my chest as he twirled his moustache with his left hand.

"Who sent you?" He demanded. I did not reply, my brain entirely overtaken with thoughts of how I might get past him in this small cabin. "No matter," He reached for my arm, "you will make a pretty prize for my masters overseas."

There was a vanishingly small space between his body and the door frame. I lowered my head and charged the space with as much force and speed as I could muster.

My momentum pushed him aside slightly, and I popped through the space like a cork.

Simpelstur roared and turned as I ran and threw myself over the side of the ship, clinging to one of the now-loose mooring lines. It was then that I looked down.

The ship was much higher now, high enough that smaller craft plied the air below us. I had no hope to survive a drop to the ground.

Desperately searching for an escape, I realized that we were steadily steaming towards the cathedral. Its roof was just high enough that, if I could only cling to the line long enough, I might survive a fall onto the public viewing area over the nave.

For a moment I saw Simpelstur's head look over the deck rail. He smirked at me, and disappeared.

I then heard an odd noise – a deep, grinding buzz, nothing I could identify as part of the usual compliment of noises inherent to a steam-powered airship.

Simpelstur's head reappeared, and with it, a device composed of a circular blade compelled to spin by a network of gears. In a trice, my rope had been cut, and I was falling.