The Hod King (The Books of Babel, #3)

by Josiah Bancroft

Leaping from the ladder, she asked her pilot what he had done to save them. Gripping the horns of the ship’s controls and studying the sudden activity of all the gauges before him, Reddleman said, “Ah! Well, I activated the levitator.” “You keep saying that like I know what it is. What is a levitator?” Edith stepped over bodies, picking a path to the pilot’s console. “A means for repelling gravity!” he said merrily. “It’s sort of a balloon in a bottle, or a cloud in a fist.” “Are you telling me this ship can fly without an envelope? Without hydrogen?” “Indeed it can, Captain. And I’m happy to explain the technology to you in as much detail as you like. Or …” Edith leaned over his shoulder, her mouth hanging open as her gaze swept over the bank of watch-faced dials and all the quivering needles and winking lights. “Or what?” “Or I could take us back to port and give you a chance to return fire.” Byron clambered to his feet and said, “They were all in on the decision, Captain. Eigengrau, Pepin, Leonid. I heard them planning it. This was a premeditated act of war.” “It’s a war crime, in fact, isn’t it, Captain? Lancing a ship’s silks like that?” Reddleman said. The frame in front of her showed a view of the Tower’s facade. Even by dim moonlight, she still recognized the charmless blocks of stone, the crumbling mortar, and bolted-on coops. The ship had fallen as low as the Parlor. They were close enough for her to discern that not all of the cages were empty. She thought of Se...