The horn sounded again, three more times. Dutson grinned and gripped the rail.

“Here we go, sir.”

A throbbing hum, pitched too low to be called a roar and too powerful to be ignored, rose up through the deck. The throbbing intensified, building and falling in a slow, measured rhythm, rapidly transforming from a throatless growl to a thum-thum-thum reminiscent of the beating of some great unhurried heart.

The Queen’s blunt bow was right against the dock. I saw ropes flying, cast off by a horde of scurrying deck hands, and I realized the Queen’s first movements would have to be both backwards and against the current.

The deck shuddered. There came the sound of steel against steel, the sudden piercing hiss of steam, and then the thum-thum-thum doubled in pace and then doubled again. Then, with a clank and a roar, the Queen’s new red wheel began to thrash and turn.

She bit the Brown and took hold, and damned if we didn’t back easily out into the river and make a flawless half-turn, putting the Queen’s face north.

Her boilers burned and her pistons reached and her wheel reversed and we moved against the river, leaving behind a pair of smoke-trails and sparks.

The deck exploded in cheers. I didn’t spot a long face in the crowd, despite the losses in the betting pool I knew many of them just suffered. Fists were raised and hats were waved and a pair of sooty firemen even danced a brief jig right there in the sun.

Dutson, ever the model of polite decorum, observed the celebrations with only the faintest ghost of a grin. “As I said, sir, they know their business.”

The breeze shifted, bringing with it a mist of spray from the Queen’s churning wheel. The sound of it, even near the bow, was that of ten thousand open hands all slapping the water over and over in some bizarre game of Splash the Finder.

“I shall see to your table, sir. Please spend as long as you like above. This is a rare fine sight.”

“It’s history.” Evis spoke, right behind me, and I turned to face him. “Welcome to the Age of Steam, Markhat. Let’s hope we live long enough to enjoy it.”

He was clad in his usual daytime attire-yards and yards of black silk, which lent him the appearance of a storybook haunt, aside from the expensive leather shoes with spats, his hat, and his dark-tinted spectacles. Something in the way he slumped against the rail told me his face would be weary, if any of it were visible.

A pair of uniformed engineers ran up, all smiles. One shook my hand though I’m sure he didn’t remember me and the other chattered to Evis about reach rods and doctor pumps.

Evis raised a gloved hand. “Thank you, Mr. Blevins. Tell the bridge crew I’ll join them in the wheelhouse in a moment.”

“The whistle, sir?”

Evis hadn’t been listening either.

“The Captain wants to know if we can sound her whistles, sir.”

Evis slumped even further. “Certainly,” he said. “Blow it long and blow it loud. Our secret is out. Blow the damned thing until it explodes.”

“Sir?”

“I believe Mr. Prestley said blow the whistle, and good job,” I added. That only confused Blevins further, but his companion was quicker of wit, and he grabbed Blevins’s elbow and off they went, cheering and hooting like schoolboys.

The spray from the Queen’s wheel cast infant rainbows all about us, even framing Evis briefly between a pair.

“You’re awfully glum for a man who just revolutionized river travel,” I said. “The elders give you a bad time about postponing the supper cruise?”

“Walk with me. Hello, Darla. Forgive my manners. It’s been a bad day.”

Darla smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re always a gentleman, even when you think you aren’t,” she said, winking at me. “I’ll be right here.”

Evis made a stiff little bow and eased through the crowd, which parted as if by magic before him. I followed with some small difficulty, applying an occasional elbow to work my way through the milling throng until I caught up.

Evis darted inside the casino and headed for the stairs, black silk flowing in his wake. I trotted and matched his pace.

“You can always do this all over again, once the threat has been dealt with.” I panted a bit. “Surely they understood the need to put things off.”

Evis cussed. “The House understood. And agreed. But our special guest insists that we proceed.”

“What?”

“We depart a full two days early, with all aboard. Our concerns were brushed aside. This is happening, Markhat. Despite my objections.”

“Angels and devils.”

“Just so.” Evis halted, listening for a moment I suppose. “This is insanity.”

“I’ve never heard that person called insane before.”

“Nevertheless. That is his intent. To proceed despite all evidence that doing so invites attack.”

A graveyard chill worked its way down my spine.

“You think you’re being played.”

“I suspect all this is part of a grander scheme,” he whispered. “A scheme years in the making. Move the conflict out of Rannit. Take it to a time and a place of his choosing. Make the opportunity look so inviting those parties we spoke of earlier cannot resist making a move. Oh yes, Markhat. We’ve been played. And now we have no choice but to see it through.”

The chill settled in for a nice long stay.

I couldn’t leave the Queen. I couldn’t send Darla away. The only safety for us was the Queen and her arcane defenses, and now those defenses were surely going to be tested by creatures so old and so powerful they didn’t even have names.

The Queen’s massive smokestack whistles blew. Loud as Buttercup and just as painful, and they blew and they blew and they blew until I imagined all of Rannit must have heard them, even the ones sleeping their uneasy sleep deep down in the dark houses, where the streets changed with every passing, and the sun and the moon shone only at some strange whim.

“Shut that damned thing up,” yelled Evis, but his voice was lost in the sound. He leaned close to me and shouted “supper” loud enough for me to hear, and then he glided up the stairs toward the source of the Queen’s throatless, deafening howl.

I rejoined Darla on the deck and shouldered my way to a place at her side. The man I pushed away gave me a look but then he saw my face and he wisely walked away.

The shrieking whistles fell silent.

“Bad news.” She wasn’t asking, but observing.

“It wasn’t good. Lovely day, though. How does it feel to make nautical history, my dear?”

“I’d rather be going home.” She hugged me, brief and tight, and then she was all smiles.

A flotilla of curious fishermen headed our way, waving and shouting. We on the rail waved and shouted back, and the Queen’s pistons pumped, and we left every boat behind as Evis turned her south and let her engines sing.

The evening meal was a dour affair. Evis barely spoke. Gertriss laid into the wine with a grim determination I’d never seen in her before. Darla moved her food around but ate very little, which led Dutson to fuss and hover until we were all ready to help him overboard for a brisk, invigorating swim.

Only I managed the sacred task of cleaning my plate, because come wrack or ruin, roast beef cooked to absolute perfection and served on a bed of rice and carrots is not to be ignored.

“I’m glad someone found the dish palatable,” muttered Dutson as he took my empty plate. “Would sir care for dessert? We have a very nice lemon meringue pie this evening.”

“Sounds marvelous,” I said. “You have any cigars back there?” Evis was so distraught he’d forgotten. “Nothing like a good cigar after a fine meal.”

“I’m sure I can procure one,” said Dutson, who briefly glanced at Evis before turning away with an injured look.

“Bring two, if you please.” I leaned back in my chair and waited for Dutson to amble out of earshot. “Some party this is.”