“You’ve been safe all this time, no attempts on your life. Not from my people, anyway.”

“Because we’ve been at school and you couldn’t get to us!”

“And what about when you were in London recently?”

“You think I didn’t know the werewolves had guards around my sister’s house every night? Felix.” Sophronia was frustrated. “Why are we always at dagger points?” Once, he had been a gentleman. She still remembered the prong incident fondly.

“Because you chose wrong.”

Sophronia wasn’t certain if he was talking about the Picklemen or Soap. “No, you did.”

Something gleamed in his pale eyes. “You sure about that? You don’t know everything, Ria. You only think you do.” There was something in his tone. Had his loyalties shifted?

“Actually, I know I don’t. So you tell me. The Picklemen on board, what do they want?”

“Not you.”

“Someone else, then? Someone who knows something. Lady Linette, perhaps?” She looked up at the head table over the sharp edge of her fan. Lady Linette sat chatting animatedly next to Mademoiselle Geraldine. There was no one lurking in the shadows to kidnap her. As if that were possible with Lady Linette.

“Something? Some device of Professor Lefoux’s?” She pushed, teasing Felix with her ignorance. Pushing him to prove he knew more than she did, lord it over her.

“Poor Sophronia, you have no idea what is really going on, do you? No idea at all.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me, then?”

“Me? I’m only here for the tea.” With which he turned and glided off—his well-tailored coat swishing. Bother Felix for looking almost as pretty walking away as he does facing forward.

Sophronia actually cursed. Then she returned to the real world. Felix’s coyness was a hint that something more was afoot. Perhaps the Pickleman infiltrators included a key member of their infrastructure? The Chutney, even?

At which juncture, the school’s proximity alarm sounded.

The proximity alarm was a series of very loud bells throughout the airship. Officially, it meant balcony access was restricted and all students were to remain stationary and not involve themselves in whatever was wrong. Unofficially, it meant that the school was under attack and the soldier mechanicals were marshaling on the squeak decks with cannons at the ready.

In the dining hall, the flirting and dancing and swilling of hot beverages ceased. The young ladies turned to look expectantly at the high table, awaiting orders. The nascent evil geniuses were less composed. One dropped his tea cake in alarm, a few dashed about in search of their hats—corralling one’s hat is an instinctive response bred into all gentlemen. Eventually, they realized that they looked foolish, and settled into merely glancing nervously about. Verbal speculation, of course, was rife.

“Proximity alert, students. Remain calm and continue to enjoy your tea.” Mademoiselle Geraldine’s voice boomed out. “Geraldine’s girls are not overset by a little ringing. Gentlemen of quali-tay do not seek their hats at the drop of a hat.” She paused to grapple with her problematic metaphor, then soldiered on. “The teachers will investigate while I stay with you. Lady Linette, if you would be so kind?”

Lady Linette rose and nodded sharply to Professor Lefoux and Sister Mattie as well as a couple of the visiting Bunson’s professors. They all marched from the room. Lady Linette paused at the doorway and issued a protocol order to the nearest serving mechanical. In response, the surrounding clangermaids and buttlingers rolled along their tracks to block the various doorways. There they clamped down hard to the rail, making it difficult for any student to leave the room.

Sophronia’s mind was on the visiting infiltrators. Had the Picklemen activated the alarm for some reason? Or could they be sabotaging the airship’s defenses, making it easier for attackers?

There was no way she was staying trapped with tea at a time like this. Even knowing that watchful gazes were on the students, she inched toward the nearest door. She fished about inside Bumbersnoot for her obstructor. Throughout all of this, her little mechanimal remained quiet. At least she knew the Picklemen hadn’t activated their valves. She thought to use her obstructor on the mechanical blocking the door and then climb out over its head.

“You there!” snapped Mademoiselle Geraldine. “Young lady in red, at the back. No leaving!”

Sophronia twitched at being noticed. She whirled to find the headmistress’s eyes fixed on her.

Others turned to stare. Someone laughed, not nicely. Probably Felix Mersey. Or Preshea.

Sophronia kept her fan up, guarding her face, and made a neat curtsy of acknowledgment. Mademoiselle Geraldine looked like she might call her forward to reprimand her, but she was saved by a loud bang and a sad crunching noise.

The whole dirigible shuddered.

People screamed. Those still at tea rose from their seats. A few went for the doors. The mechanicals would not let them by. Sophronia’s transgression was forgotten in the hubbub.

“Back to your seats, everyone!” ordered one of the remaining Bunson’s teachers, rising to stand next to Mademoiselle Geraldine. Across the wide room, Sophronia could see he was pale and holding on to the head table in fear.

Dimity, Pillover, and Agatha used the panic to congregate around Sophronia.

Then the ship began to list to starboard.

Mademoiselle Geraldine looked less composed at this. “All will be well, young people of quali-tay. Stick to your tea.”

“One of the balloons must be down.” Agatha tried to console an unhappy-looking Pillover.

There was another boom and then a loud clanging sound. The ship shuddered again. The bells continued to peal.

Pillover said, “I hate adventure. Did I mention recently that I hate adventure? Well, I do. Sophronia, is this your fault? Have you arranged an unwarranted adventure for us?”

“I don’t think so.” Sophronia pretended to seriously consider the question. “Not this time.”

“We are definitely under fire.” Dimity ignored her brother.

Greatly daring, Agatha patted Pillover sympathetically on the arm.

The ship shook again.

Pillover turned green.

“Flywaymen or Picklemen?” wondered Agatha.

“Or both.” Sophronia searched the room for Felix’s dark head. She couldn’t find him. He couldn’t have gotten out—he hadn’t near enough sneaking ability for that. He must be under a table or something.

Come to think on it, Sophronia couldn’t see any of his ilk. “Where, oh where, have all the pretty Pistons gone?”

“Sophronia! You can’t be thinking about flirting now,” Dimity reprimanded.

“No.” Sophronia lurched slightly as the airship vibrated like a dog shaking off water. “I’m thinking about taking cover.”

The floor of the dining hall was now tilted to such an extreme, it was becoming impossible to hold one’s footing in a dignified manner. The tables were all slipping toward the starboard wall, as only the head table was bolted down.

The students, some of them still seated and attempting to take tea, play cards, and engage in polite conversation, gripped the edges of their tables as they slid. The whole thing felt as if it were happening underwater. Apparently even a major battle was slow moving when floating.