Rip led the way on horseback as Blair and Twig followed him through the streets. The silver airship seemed to hover in place and they kept it in sight while trotting over the cobblestones.

Horseback is the most efficient means of urban travel, Rip thought. At least for the moment.

He had considered using bicycles, and inquired after them at the Venture Society. He discovered that the bike’s ancestor, the “hobby horse,” had been invented during the Napoleonic era, just as in his world. This was essentially a handlebar, a seat and two wheels with no gears or pedals, sort of a sit-down scooter. They were quite popular for a while until decades ago Ethinium and other large cities banned them from streets and sidewalks following numerous accidents. They since faded from general use.

Pedal and gear bicycles were around in this world, but still stuck in the penny-farthing stage. This version was essentially a giant front wheel the rider sat on top of, with a much smaller trailing wheel.

Rip had no desire to mount one and try to navigate it through traffic, so they took horses. He ruminated on the best way to introduce modern bicycle designs. From what little reading he had done, he knew the modern design should have been introduced to this world already. Bicycles were very popular during this time on his world.

Maybe somebody didn’t get born, or their life’s purpose got redirected or something.

His thoughts were interrupted as they approached an intersection, bypassing the queue of wagons and carriages waiting their turn to proceed.

The officer saw him cutting in line and held out a hand impatiently, scowling at him. Rip pulled his badge out and flashed it, making the man’s expression change instantly. The peeler stopped the flow of traffic and waved them through. As soon as they cleared the congestion, all three brought their steeds to a trot again and Rip returned to his thoughts.

Why hasn’t anybody thought about making a decent two-wheeler yet? All it would take is a double triangle frame, making a trapezoid. Handlebars at the upper right corner, pedals at lower right. Chain and gears go to the rear wheel at the lower left corner. Seat at upper left. Hmm.

They weaved in and out through slower traffic, making good time. Fortunately, not too many people darted out into the street. Rip let the horse find her way, only guiding the reins to the left or right as suggestions when conditions grew more crowded.

Ahead, the Silver Comet seemed to hover in the air. Briefly, Rip wondered if anyone in the wagon train would notice. But the sun shined down at an angle. The ship’s shadow would be cast a block or two from the street the wagons traversed.

The only way anyone would notice, he thought, would be if they looked up. Since most of the Luddites probably stayed under the canvas tops, he hoped that would not be a problem.

Soon, he caught sight of the last wagon.

Liza and Hilda should have it under control by now, he thought.

He squeezed the sides of his horse with his heels, urging her to move faster. Blair and Twig hurried after him as they weaved through traffic.

He caught up with the canvas top and pulled up alongside the driver. Liza turned and flashed a grin from underneath a dark flouncy hat. He nodded at her and pulled his horse back.

“Hilda? You in there?”

Hilda’s head popped out of the rear flap. Her eyes squinted in the sunlight, but then she saw Rip and smiled.

“Hop on. I’ll get you close enough to the next one and you can . . . do what you do.”

Her eyes shifted to Blair, who scowled at her.

“I think it’s better I ride with Mr. Twig, Ripley.”

“Really? Okay. Twig, give her a ride close to the next wagon.”

Twig gigged his horse forward. Hilda stepped out and hopped over to the horse, sitting just behind the saddle. The horse flattened his ears at this sudden addition of weight, but continued walking.

Twig glanced over his shoulder and Rip nodded at him. He clicked his tongue and the horse sped up, stepping around a carriage in front of them. Hilda locked eyes with Liza as the horse passed the front of the wagon. Neither said a word.

Soon the pair approached the rear of the second-to-last wagon as it plodded along. Hilda looked around at the traffic and the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“There are too many people. They will see me disappear.”

Twig nodded, as if expecting the remark.

“We’ll do it the old fashioned way,” he said, swinging his right leg over the horse’s neck as they came even with the rear of the wagon.

He neatly jumped to a shelf jutting off the back, opened the flap and stepped inside.

For a moment, Hilda sat wide-eyed on the horse. The animal continued walking, even with the reins slack around its neck.

She heard the sound of flesh thumping against flesh in the wagon, and soft groans as Twig’s knife performed more deadly work.

Moments later, he stepped out, hair tussled, and he held onto the rear of the wagon for a moment before hopping back over to the horse.

Her eyebrows rose in respect.

“You are efficient, Mr. Twig.”

He shrugged modestly and urged the horse forward again.

“Would you like to take care of the driver? I’ll go on to the next one.”

Hilda nodded and as they came even with the front of the wagon, she drifted quickly over to the driver’s seat. To anyone watching, she seemed to jump, but partially misting allowed her to appear graceful and fluid while dismounting the horse.

The driver looked up in surprise as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and he opened his mouth to curse.

“Hush.”

Her hand and arm misted, flooding his nose and mouth before partially solidifying. His body jerked in protest, but she held firm. He slumped, passing out in the seat. Hilda maintained her position, and kept obstructing his airways for several minutes to make sure he died.

She glanced over at Twig, still riding along beside her and nodded. He nodded back and hurried on toward the next wagon.