Read Online The Iron Ship by K. M. McKinley - Free Book Online

in here,” she tapped her skull. “But I can’t be calling you Master Gorwyn all night. The time is past for that.” The countess removed the long stem of her pipe from her mouth. Clouds of blue smoke spilled out with her laughter. “What you said about my servant was no slander, sir, for he does not like you. You don’t like him do you, Mansanio?”
    “As you say, countess,” muttered the seneschal.
    “He doesn’t think I should be having strange men up in my den,” she said. Her eyes twinkled suggestively. “If you weren’t the son of Houter Gorwyn, he’d have you defenestrated.”
    Tuom smirked. “Then I thank my father for being who he is.”
    “He also does not think the likes of you or I should demean ourselves with physical labour, or by concerning ourselves with anything but lording it over those born lower than we.”
    “He is welcome to his opinion, but he would be wrong. My father was quite insistent that I acquaint myself with our family’s interests.”
    “That a family such as yours should have any trade at all is quite scandalous, as far as Mansanio sees it.”
    “Father believes the old families will survive only by following the new money’s lead. They are not afraid to engage with the meaner things in life. Already, the richest among the new families are richer by far than the old lords. Land is no longer enough, countess. Industry is the key to wealth. Father says that our kind face a rapid decline into penury if we are not wise to it. I am sad to say I believe him. And so, here I am, third heir to a barony and a master of drays!”
    They laughed.
    “Well said!” she said. “This is an exciting era, Tuom.”
    “For some, perhaps. I would have preferred things the way they used to be,” said Gorwyn. “But I’d rather be a rich drudge than an impoverished lord. As my father says, the aristocracy has had to change before, so we can change again. The world is not static, whatever the appearance of it. Those who think so forget our warlord forebears who bludgeoned their way to riches. It is fortunate our dilemma is less bloody.”
    “But I disagree!” said the countess. “If only this change were more like those in the past. From warrior to indolent landlord. I rather feel it is going the other way this time around.”
    “Then you are more sanguine in nature than I. I prefer the dogs to the dracon.”
    “They say that once my ancestors were pirates, wandering where they would upon the seas, until one of them fell in love with a kelpie girl and set down iron chains to snare her, blah blah blah. This, of course, is nonsense. What is true is that they were clever enough to get themselves granted the rights to the floatstone islands that once shoaled hereabouts. Carving them up made them, and by extension me, rich. We were new money once, so long ago that people forget. My ancestors did not disdain industry, nor will I.”
    “What is it that you do here now, countess?”
    “Lucinella, please,” she said. Mansanio’s spine stiffened to hear her offering the familiar form of her name up like a penny.
    “Lucinella.” The man tried the name. Emboldened, he stood and went over to the countess. Mansanio risked directly watching. The man was ten years younger than his mistress. He had the look in his eyes; another young buck who would soon be bragging he was bold enough to have bedded the Hag of Mogawn. Mansanio’s hands shook with anger.
    “I am engaged on a quest for knowledge, and am rich enough to indulge my whim. Come here, look at this.”
    “More stargazing, Lucinella?”
    “Oh now, I have saved the best for last.” She put her drink and pipe down and walked to a set of wheels on iron stalks. She worked the handles of the crank to her telescope. “The entire structure is mounted on a turntable, masterfully geared. Clever fellow from Corrend. All mechanical, no assistance from glimmer machines. I spin a wheel here, and so! The centre of the room and the dome rotate around