A concoction of ash-white fluff spiralled above. It shuddered violently and at last it's burden was removed from it. I heard a metally tapping, and when I glanced through the thick glass, a torrent of rain was thundering down on the airship.

It was an hour later and I was onboard the silver airship, inside the living compartment situated below the wooden deck which wound around the circumference of the airship. It was accessible by taking the stairs from a door on deck and walking down a staircase inside.

The propeller was surprisingly silent, and this time I didn't feel the wind in my face like I had done on Benjamin's airship, for we were inside, and seated at bronze-edged rivetted glass windows.

Alice was sitting at an ornately carved table, relaxed in her oversized red velvet armchair that contrasted her shimmering emerald dress. It looked as if she was a leaf being swallowed by a rose. I, on the other hand, was not relaxed. Reclining on a steam train would unseat you when it stopped, especially if running late.

Alice found my posture concerning.
"Oh do relax, dear Mila! You're onboard a high functioning airship, not some cumbersome rag-and-bone pony!"

"I have travelled a lot on a steam train, this is how I naturally sit." I answered.
I was a little worried I'd end up having to tell my story again, so I refrained from telling her I had in fact 'travelled by train' for 15 years. After my stupidity with Leticia, and Dalere's betrayal, I didn't feel in the mood to be open.

Previously, when she'd asked about my history, I had told her in a riddle:
"I lived in a world of steam. It clouded my vision, then drew back to reveal a storm. Caught off-guard I couldn't fight back. I needed to be trained to stop that happening, I needed training. But I got none, so I was a lamb to the slaughter."

Meanwhile, I got back to the task in hand.

"Where are we going, Alice?"

Alice sat up and reached for an iron teapot with Roman numerals engraved in it. Pouring the teapot, no steam came out as the steam generated powered a heater in the base of the teapot that kept the tea warm. The tea cascaded into her white cog decorated teacup and she lifted the brown liquid to her painted lips carefully. Resting the teacup back on the table, she spoke:

"To an old friend of mine. He is an inventor who spends many a time at his workshop on his estate. He is very wealthy, having designed a lot of Chelare's locomotives, so is very knowledgeable."

I interrupted her:
"Why exactly are you taking me to see him though?"

Alice regarded me with a knowledgeable look.
"You told me you needed training to fight back. If we are to understand the enemy, we'll need to know what they know and my word, Mr Aberdain knows a lot about airships and steam boilers."

"I see." I answered her.

Alice lifted her cup to her lips again, and when she set it down on the table, she queried:
"Any tea for you, Mila?"

Benjamin's words came into my mind: you drank her 'drink' without thinking...

But I could see it was tea, the labels were sticking out of it, so I accepted. The warming liquid felt good when it was awful weather outside.

I became aware that the ship was sinking again and pushed back my chair. I hopped up the step to the large windows. I didn't see much. The rain was now great graphite lines shooting out from a smoke-black cloud, obscuring my vision.

5 minutes passed; the rain unrelenting. The airship had landed and Alice and I stepped out onto the deck and down the steps to land in a sodden grass field.

I landed with vigour, liking mess, Alice was more careful but ended up muddying her dress's bottom hem. She sighed, opening a black umbrella one of the footmen onboard had supplied.

We walked out of the field in the pouring rain, until we passed a cluster of tall, pointed amber-leaved trees that had not quite got their new leaves out yet. The winding dust path turned to clay as we watched, the rain splashing off it with tiny thuds. Then at last, there came into view a ginormous redstone mansion, complete with red gables and a line of silver and iron gear statues lining the way up the stairs to the tall wooden door.

I reached up and knocked the golden knocker, shaped like a grizzly bear head, three slow times.

There was a sound of servants scattering and then an irritable voice. There was silence again, before the noise of a key in a lock. Finally, the door swung open and I gasped.

Because there, framed in that doorway was Mr Olton.