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  Myra came to join Twist and Jonas on deck, watching for the coming town and the approaching storm. Twist was grateful that Myra hadn’t heard of the town of Tamarasset, as it prompted Jonas to answer his own unspoken questions as well. It seemed that the town was a well-known outpost of sorts, where travelers frequently stopped while crossing the Sahara, both by air and by land. Because of this constant business, the town had grown to accommodate airship travelers in particular and boasted a surprising number of repair and supply shops to cater to them. It was therefore the perfect place to repair the Vimana, sandstorm or no.

  Looking up toward the storm that had recently appeared at the very edge of the horizon, Twist was shocked to find the long, tall, billowing wall of gray-gold cloud now drawing quite near. He could see nothing at all through the thick mass of dust and sand, but he could clearly see it moving ever closer, much more quickly than he’d expected it to. The Vimana passed over the town and flew closer to the mountain, where Twist noticed a large opening in one side of the tall, solitary, starkly vertical peak.

  As the Vimana glided closer to the opening, Twist saw dozens of airships of different sizes and designs clustered tightly together inside the shaded cavern, nearly filling the mountain peak. More airships were just docking as well, while the Vimana moved slowly, slipping into an empty space, as Twist began to hear a distant roar of wind coming from the desert behind them. Soon after, they docked, and while the Vimana’s crew and passengers readied to leave the airship, Twist saw a huge, heavy tarp of thick fabric fall slowly to cover the opening in the mountain, effectively sealing off the airship docks.

  “Are they trapping us in here?” Twist asked Jonas with a frown.

  “They have to,” Jonas responded. “Once the storm hits, the air outside will be filled with dust and sand, and it’ll be impossible to see or even breathe without protection. And the storm will wreck anything that’s not covered. This way, the airships will be safe.”

  “Good heavens,” Twist muttered, suddenly growing more nervous about the coming storm.

  “Are we all heading into the city, then?” Howell asked, looking over the airship’s entire crew and all of her passengers, who had now gathered on the deck.

  “I mean no offense to your ship, of course,” Harman, the older gypsy, said with a weary smile to Howell, “but I’ll take any excuse to put my feet back on solid ground.”

  Beside him, Harman’s son, Luca, smiled at his father understandingly. The two Frenchmen who had come to Philippe’s aid in Sierra Leone—who Twist still hadn’t managed to learn the names of and still called Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in his mind—seemed less desperate to step off the airship but stood ready with the Vimana’s crew to depart as well, nonetheless.

  “No offense taken, Harman,” Howell said to the gypsy. “We’re not all born with the soul of an aeronaut. Shall we, then?” he asked, taking the lead off of the ship.

  Twist, Jonas, and Myra fell into line while they and the others began to climb down the narrow metal stairway that covered most of the rock walls, while the crews and passengers from other docked airships joined them in one massive line of people, all heading down to the cavern floor. Finally reaching the floor of the cavern, Twist saw men tying off ropes all along the edge of the massive tarp, securing it to the cave mouth. The fabric was billowing and fighting now, as the roaring sounds outside increased.

  “What if another airship needs to come in here?” Myra asked Jonas worriedly, holding the crook of Twist’s arm as the three of them walked together.

  “The storm is too close now,” Jonas said with a shrug. “If there’s anyone else still out there, they’ll have to head for a coast or fly up over the storm. But anyone would have seen the storm coming, just like we did,” he offered, smiling reassuringly to her. “Sandstorms are dangerous, but this isn’t the Dark Ages. People know how to handle them. Don’t worry.”

  Myra smiled gratefully to him. Twist silently breathed a sigh of relief at his friend’s perspective and tried to put his own anxiety out of his mind. Twist and his companions joined the crowd that moved casually toward a hallway-like opening in the rock to one side. A gentle slope took them all down to a lower, smaller cavern that may have been merely a few feet under the surface of the desert floor above and was filled with what looked very much like a train station.

  A small locomotive—oddly devoid of a smokestack—stood on narrow tracks that continued on through a long tunnel, heading in the direction of the desert town Twist had seen from the air. A line of open carriages waited behind it, beside a small platform. The crowd of airship passengers climbed aboard them without hesitation, under the stark electric lights that filled the space with false daylight. Twist and his companions took seats on the simple metal benches that filled one of the open carriages. The conductor called to the remaining passengers on the small platform that the train was ready to leave, and they hurried aboard.

  In moments, the train began to move, but it did so slowly at first. But even with the train moving at a slow pace, Twist noticed a gentle breeze running playfully through the tunnel, and the air struck him as surprisingly fresh considering that they were underground. As if to answer his silent questions, the train soon passed under a huge set of swiftly spinning fans that were set into the ceiling. The whirring blades threw a strong gust of clean, fresh air down on the travelers, without the slightest hint of sand or dust. Twist could only assume that the air was filtered before it was forced into the tunnels.

  After a few moments, the train began to speed up until it was nearly flying down the straight, narrow tracks. The electric lights appeared to pulse rhythmically as the train sped under them swiftly. Twist tugged his black top hat firmly onto his head to keep it from flying off, while Myra and Arabel both lifted their hands into the rushing air and giggled excitedly at the dizzy pace. It only seemed like a few moments—but a great deal of distance—before the train began to slow once again. It soon pulled into another underground station, at the edge of what looked to Twist like a city street.

  Square buildings made of brick and stone housed shops, restaurants, and even what looked like apartment homes, under more of the bright electric lights. A solid, vaulted ceiling of rock, standing on a forest of slender columns of rock, covered the entire area. There were open plazas with benches and fountains under more of the life-giving fans that were set into the ceiling, and even a fair few sidewalk cafes where patrons lounged on cushions and couches, sipping from small glasses and smoking long pipes.

  The city was also bustling with activity and filled with many different kinds of people. There was a smattering of Europeans, Asian, Africans, and others that Twist couldn’t easily identify. Most of the crowd, however, wore bright blue-and-white robe-like clothing that covered them from head to toe. While the women and the young boys and girls wore only white or blue head scarves with uncovered faces, all of the men wore turbans of blue that wrapped around their faces, revealing only their eyes.

  “What a fascinating place,” Twist remarked as he and the others left the train and paused near the edge of the city. “Is this all under that little town I saw in the desert?”

  “We’re exactly under it,” Jonas answered, nodding. “All of the buildings you saw up above continue down into this area. This is the basement level.”

  “Everyone comes here in a sandstorm,” Philippe mentioned in his light French accent, having stopped close beside Twist, Jonas, and Myra. “There is nowhere better in the whole of the Sahara to wait out a sandstorm than in Tamarasset.”

  Twist was surprised to find a warm smile on the doctor’s face as he spoke. He still looked fatigued and pale from his ordeal with the vampires earlier that week, but he seemed to be making a swift recovery nonetheless. Aazzi stood at his side, her black-gloved hand tucked in the crook of his arm, her sapphire shawl and black gown matching his stylish blue suit and black hat and waistcoat perfectly.

  “Have you been here before, then?” Twist asked him.

 
“I met my wife here,” Philippe said as he smiled, looking at Twist through his wire-rimmed silver spectacles.

  Aazzi smiled aside, to her husband. “Just think,” she began in her rich but wistful voice, “how different our lives would have been, had I worked as a maid at a different hotel, or had you never come to his city at all.”

  Twist instantly followed her meaning: she might never have returned to her family, they might not have ever turned her into a vampire, and Philippe might never have been taken by them and nearly killed. Then, the softness in her voice caused Twist to think again. If she and Philippe had never met, then they wouldn’t have fallen in love, either. They wouldn’t be married now.

  “I like to believe,” Philippe said, turning to her, “that no matter what happened in our past, I would have always found you, ma cherie.”

  Aazzi’s silver eyes sparkled with a warmth that Twist rarely saw in her, but she said nothing in return. Nonetheless, Philippe seemed to accept her silent smile as a deeply positive response. Twist could only marvel at their seamless and elegant understanding of each other. No matter what obstacles and trials they faced, their love and compassion for each other was as solid as stone. He’d certainly read many similar sentiments in novels or poetry, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing it so clearly in real life.

  As no one else seemed to be so moved by this subtle display as Twist was, the others turned their attentions easily away to other things. The Vimana needed significant repairs, and their supplies were getting frighteningly low. Thankfully, Twist and his companions had found a cache of diamonds inside the steam-powered elephant that they had used to flee from the vampires’ castle, and no one’s purse was particularly light at the moment.

  Howell sent Arabel and Aazzi out to refill their supplies and took Zayle with him to search for the parts that they needed to replace. The gypsies and the Frenchmen offered to assist in the repairs, but Howell and the rest of his crew refused them all with casual smiles and mentioned that they had to wait out the storm regardless. Twist could only guess that the Vimana’s crew preferred to do all of the work themselves out of a feeling of protective ownership, and so didn’t press them.

  Rosencrantz and Guildenstern declared that they intended to explore the city. Considering his weakened condition, there was no question that Philippe wouldn’t be helping with the airship either. He instead went with his two friends, almost instantly switching to using only French to speak with them in a casual air.

  “Well then,” Jonas said pleasantly, turning to Twist and Myra. “Who’s up for a tour? I know all the best places in the city.”

  “Oh!” Myra gasped happily. “Yes, please.”

  Twist smiled to see her delight and nodded as well.

  “Thanks for inviting us too, Jonny,” Luca said to Jonas with a hint of offense.

  Twist looked to the two gypsies—Luca and Harman, both dressed in mismatched clothing and sporting questionable grooming choices—to find them staring at Jonas with playfully judgmental expressions.

  “You already know your way around,” Jonas said with a shrug. “I’d thought you two would rather go pickpocketing or something.”

  “Oh, yes,” Harman said with a smile, as if this were a revelation. “This place is ripe with confused tourists and heavy purses. Let’s make the best of it, shall we, son?” he asked, looking to Luca.

  “Good idea,” Luca agreed, putting on a wide smile. “We can’t go losing our skills to disuse, like some people,” he added with a displeased glance to Jonas.

  Jonas smiled and shook his head. “I’ve got to admire your family’s dedication to crime. Even if it is just petty crime.”

  Luca shot Jonas a dangerous glare, but Jonas kept his own eyes well clear of meeting the angry gypsy’s.

  “Our dedication to petty crime,” Harman said warningly, “kept you fed and warm for many years, Jonny. Don’t forget that.”

  “Of course, I haven’t,” Jonas responded innocently. “I’m only trying to annoy Luca, after all. I mean no disrespect to you, Harman.”

  Harman shrugged, his smile returning.

  “Snooty, suck-up pirate,” Luca grumbled.

  “At your service, sir,” Jonas said with an exaggerated bow.

  Luca gave a noisy huff and crossed his arms.

  “Come along, Luca,” Harman said with a light chuckle. “We can’t keep our new purses waiting.”

  Luca gave one last glare at Jonas but not another word of protest, and the two gypsies vanished into the crowd with adept skill. The moment they were out of earshot, however, Jonas let out a fatigued-sounding sigh.

  “Jonas?” Myra asked, looking to him with hesitant curiosity. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you and Luca actually friends or not?”

  “I’m sorry?” Jonas asked back, clearly confused.

  “Well…” Myra muttered, her soft anxiety chilling Twist’s Sight through her gentle touch on his arm. “You just seem to fight an awful lot. Not the way you fight with Twist, I mean,” she added swiftly with a smile. “It’s not even the same way you fight with Vane. With Luca, it looks like real fighting. I just wonder if he’s done something to offend you.”

  Twist looked to her with a surprised smile, her silent understanding of things that he would find frightfully complex amazing him once again.

  Jonas smiled at Myra. “Thank you for your concern, poppet. Luca and I grew up together. We’re family. We don’t have to like each other all the time.”

  “That doesn’t sound very nice,” Myra said, concerned. “Having to live with people you don’t like.”

  “I don’t know,” Jonas said with a casual shrug. “I find it easier.”

  Myra didn’t seem convinced by this but shrugged nonetheless.

  “Meanwhile,” Jonas said brightly, “I really do know all the best places in this city. I’ve passed through here more than once in my travels. Shall we be off?”

  “By all means,” Twist said with a smile and a nod. “Lead on, Magellan.”

  Jonas shot him a look for the sarcasm but made no complaint at the title.

  In moments, the three of them plunged into the city together, and Jonas clearly seemed to enjoy being able to show his detailed knowledge of the place with a casual ease. He took them to a busy and colorful bazaar, not unlike the one Twist had seen in Bombay. They walked by restaurants and cafes, while Jonas mentioned the specialties of each and which to avoid. Jonas pointed out a large square near the center of the city, where he said there were often impromptu concerts by local musicians, and indicated to Twist and Myra which of the many hotels they saw had the softest beds and the best room service.

  While they ambled about, Twist quietly savored the brightness that murmured in the buzz at his neck: the constant connection to the mood of Jonas’s spirit. Jonas wasn’t often so at ease, and the feeling was refreshing to Twist after all of the anxiety and fear that they had both endured over the last few days.

  Myra’s spirit also felt light and happy in his Sight, her emotions bleeding comfortably into his mind while she held his arm as they strolled together. When they walked under a particularly close electric light, a gleaming flash caught Twist’s attention. He glanced down to her left hand, which rested gently in the crook of his arm, and his gaze fell onto the diamond ring on her finger. His heart beat quicker as a sudden flash of nervous excitement shot through him.

  He looked up to her beautiful, gleaming, copper clockwork face as she smiled while listening to Jonas speak. Despite all logic, this flawless and breathtaking young woman had agreed to be his wife. Twist couldn’t imagine that he was capable of loving her more than he already did.

  Twist sipped at his sweet, hot mint tea, and wondered why his small, colorfully stained glass didn’t have a handle. It was a bit difficult to drink hot tea from a glass without burning his fingertips. Looking at the other patrons at the cafe, however, he noticed that everyone else had the same dishware, and yet no one else seemed at all inconvenienced.

  “Is
there something wrong with ordinary teacups?” Twist asked Jonas, who shared the small, low, street-side table with him.

  Like the rest of the patrons, Twist and Jonas sat on cushions on the raised platform that the cafe stood upon, folding their legs casually under the table. Beyond the cafe, the vibrant, busy bazaar continued to ring with voices and commerce. Twist glanced out into the fray, spotting Myra easily: standing before a tent-like shop full of colorful dresses, talking with obvious joy to someone Twist couldn’t see.

  “That depends on what you use teacups for,” Jonas replied uncertainly, after a pause. “They’re great for trapping spiders, for example, but I think you’d find it difficult to use a teacup to trap a buffalo.”

  Twist stared at his friend in confusion for a moment, while his mind struggled to supply him with an image to match Jonas’s suggestion. “If everyone is drinking hot tea, why haven’t we all got teacups?” he clarified.

  “Oh,” Jonas said, seeming disappointed by Twist’s more conventional meaning. “I don’t know,” he said, looking at his own hot little glass of tea. “Custom, I guess.”

  “I thought you knew everything about the world,” Twist said, frowning.

  Jonas smiled at him slyly. “Is that flattery or sarcasm?”

  “Golly, I don’t know…”

  “Shut up and drink your tea, Londoner,” Jonas said through a chuckle.

  Twist smiled at him, reveling in the subtle comfort of this quiet, friendly banter.

  “Darling!” Myra’s voice called suddenly from the depths of the bazaar, as she ran toward him with a wide smile.

  “Uh-oh…” Jonas muttered.

  “What is it, dear?” Twist asked as she came to join them.

  Myra stopped beside their table, dropping shopping bags at her feet, beside the very edge of the ledge. She held the pendant watch—the necklace that Skye had given her, which concealed a mysterious Rook communication device within it—in one hand, the long chain still looped around her neck. A bright blue glow was rising up from within the watch while Myra held it open.