The airship had left the Italian peninsula behind last night, and the flat sea stretched in all directions, the afternoon sun scattering diamonds across its surface. It was a fine day on the Leviathan’s topside, at least.
She sighed, raised her saber, and tried to imitate Alek’s pose. Rigby, the bosun, had forbidden swordplay inside the airship. A dozen crewmen were watching, along with a pair of curious hydrogen sniffers. “A proper idiot, more like,” Deryn muttered, wishing again that her first lesson were someplace less public. “If you want to be a proper fencer, yes.” “Do I have to stand like that?” she asked. Even with his sword pointed straight at her, he looked barking silly.
His fencing armor made him look like a walking quilt. His feet were splayed at right angles, his left arm sticking out behind like the handle of a teacup. Deryn hefted her own weapon, studying Alek’s pose.
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