by Sharon Shinn
But the biggest difference for this takeoff was that Rafe was outfitted with a piece of safety gear—one of the flying bags. The yoke with its flat container of chemicals had been clamped across the open pilot’s box, and as soon as Rafe settled himself into the padded chair, he fastened its straps around his chest. If the K5 went spiraling for the ground, he could rip the yoke free, yank on the string that would combine the chemicals in the bag, and be lifted skyward by the sudden explosive burst of power. In theory, anyway.
Rafe was devoutly hoping he wouldn’t have the opportunity to put the invention to the test.
He took one last look around—at the open road before him, the crowd of well-wishers behind him, the cloudless sky overhead—and nodded at the mechanics. He felt the engines rev up to takeoff speed and watched the mechanics dash for safety. Then he pulled on the throttle and felt the K5 leap forward.
Yes—faster and more powerful than the LNR—he reached takeoff speed in about half the time and lifted into the air with a guttural roar. For a few moments, Rafe felt like he was wrestling the big craft upward with his own body strength, forcing the nose to angle above the horizon. Then the machine seemed to steady, to find its own buoyancy—or, more truly, its own joy. It was as if the elaymotive was a wild animal that had been penned up too long and suddenly realized that its gate had been left open. It shot into the hard blue heavens with blistering euphoria.
Kayle had cautioned Rafe not to go as far this time. We’d rather have you return safely than have you bring back stories about seeing the ocean, he’d said. Together they had decided he would be wise to stick to the road until he got too close to the port and ran the risk of encountering land traffic. Following the paved surface also ensured he had a better chance of finding a landing site if the K5 developed any trouble.
Accordingly, he flew a southeasterly route, never letting the road get out of sight. Three times he passed over traveling elaymotives, once over a horse-drawn carriage. He was close enough to ground level that he could see the miniature people jump out of their vehicles and stare up at him, pointing and waving. Not sure if they could see him in return, he leaned over the side and waved back. He knew they weren’t near enough to see him grinning like a fool.
Once he could make out the shapes and shadows of the port, he brought the K5 into a wide sweeping circle and guided it back toward the hangar. He glanced at his fuel gauge; still three-quarters full. The K5 ate through its reserves more quickly than the LNR did, but its hold was bigger. He should be able to fly just as far and maybe a little faster.
The engine chugged on with a reassuringly steady grumble as he retraced his route. But he wasn’t nearly ready to come down again by the time he spotted the wide, flat roof of the hangar ahead of him. Accordingly, he kept the K5 at a cruising altitude and sent her straight over the compound. He could see the crowd gathered below pumping their fists in the air. He thought that, over the roar of his engines, he could catch the sound of their cheering.
He continued another mile northwest, but this was practically untracked wasteland—loose, sandy soil that didn’t support much vegetation and would be hell on an uncontrolled landing. Anyway, his fuel gauge had slipped below the halfway mark. Time to subdue his rebellious spirit and head on home. He made another huge half-circle turn, tilting his left wing down and pivoting on its axis, and began the return trip.
He found himself unexpectedly nervous; this was when the LNR had begun to have trouble, and superstitiously he braced for similar problems with the K5. But the larger aeromotive held steady as he steered it back toward the hangar, back toward the road, dropping gradually lower. Once he cleared the rooftop, he descended more precipitously, not wanting to run out of the absolutely straight section of roadway before his wheels were on the ground.
He was probably going a little too fast when he touched down. The world suddenly became a windy blur of wild motion as the K5 careened along the pavement, metal shrieking, wheels bouncing, everything streaming by at an impossible speed. Rafe fought to keep the plane centered on the roadway, though his eyes watered with wind and his arms felt as if they were being torn from their sockets. The right wheel hit some kind of obstruction and the whole machine lurched into a violent spin; Rafe was almost flung out of the box. But when the dizzying motion ground to a stop, he was still inside the K5, he was still on the road—and he was still alive.
He’d actually done it. He’d taken off and landed safely, not a hundred yards from where he’d intended to put down. His machine was intact, and so was he. Even though no one was near enough to hear his victory shout, he threw his head back and whooped with exultation.
Kayle was all smiles as he roared over in a small open elaymotive. Behind him, like a splendidly variegated wake, the dozens of onlookers rippled toward Rafe in a spreading V of running motion. Rafe searched their faces until he could spot Josetta and Steff, Corene and Zoe right behind them. They were all waving madly, and he returned the gesture with equal energy.
“Perfect, wonderful, exactly what I hoped for!” Kayle called as he pulled up with a flourish that almost tipped his little vehicle to its side, then raced over to help Rafe climb out of the pilot’s box. Rafe was surprised to find himself a little wobbly, as if he’d just tumbled down a mountain or run an exhausting race. Apparently flying an aeromotive successfully could leave a pilot almost as exhausted as crashing one. “Did you have any trouble? Tell me what happened while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
One of Kayle’s assistants arrived on the scene, panting, and began taking notes as Rafe reeled off everything he could remember about wind resistance, hiccups in performance, hesitations, inefficiencies. “But, as I say, no real problems,” he finished up. “This machine is born to fly.”
Kayle beamed at him. “I think you are born to fly,” he said. “That was spectacular.”
Rafe laughed. “When can I do it again?”
• • •
Rafe probably could have stayed another few hours at the hangar, discussing the minutest details of the flight, but it was already close to noon and he could tell Zoe was anxious to start her trip back to Chialto. So they loaded up their caravan again and headed back to port.
“That was the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen,” Corene said once they were on their way.
“Does it make you want to become a pilot?” Rafe teased her.
“No,” she said flatly. “But it makes me want to come watch you the next time you fly.”
“I want to do that. Do you think I could do that? I might want to be a pilot,” Steff chattered. “Except—I’m a little afraid of the height. And the speed. But I definitely want to help build the next aeromotive!”
“Did you ask Kayle for a job?”
“Yes! And he said to come talk to him tomorrow.”
“Did you tell him you were coru?” Josetta asked, twisting around from her seat so she could see Steff in the back. “I think he only hires elay mechanics.” When his face fell, she started laughing. “I’m joking! I’m sure he hires all sorts of people!”
Rafe made an equivocal motion with his head. “We-ell. He has sweela workers, I know. And hunti, I think. But coru? I’m not so sure.”
“Then I’ll just get different blessings,” Steff said. “Whatever it takes.”
Zoe and Corene had left their belongings in Rafe’s apartment, so they went inside quickly to gather their bags and wash up before setting off for home. While waiting for them to return to Rafe’s room, Josetta wandered over to the big window that overlooked the ocean, and Rafe trailed behind her.
“A little less frightening for you this time?” he asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.
She tilted her head to smile up at him. “Not really. I was terrified the whole time you were out of sight, and even more terrified as you began to land. Of course, the fact that you didn’t come plummeting down made it a little less scary, but I don’t
think I breathed until you arrived at a complete stop. Without bursting into flames.”
“I loved it,” he said. “Every single minute. I can’t wait to do it again.”
On those words, Zoe and Corene stepped back into the room. “Maybe that’s what it means when a man has only extraordinary blessings,” Zoe said. “It means he’s a lunatic. Because only lunatics would want to fly.”
Steff spoke up from where he lounged on the sofa. “Does Kayle Dochenza have extraordinary blessings? Because he’s the one who built the machines.”
“Well, elay folks,” Zoe said in a dismissive manner. “Everyone knows they’re crazy.”
They all looked toward Josetta to get her reaction, but she was focused on something she could see out the window. Taking in her frown, Rafe followed her gaze out to the harbor. All he could see was the familiar sight of hundreds of ships crowded up to the docks, with more in the distance dotting the blue expanse of ocean. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. “Zoe? Do you recognize this flag?”
Zoe joined her at the window. “Which? Darien was just telling me that Welce trades with something like twenty other countries and I should really learn to . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Now Corene came over to see what they were staring at. Frowning, Rafe returned his attention to the harbor. As Zoe had said, the ships gathered around the docks appeared to come from a couple dozen different nations, judging by their flags and the slight variances in their construction. Rafe recognized the most obvious ones, the merchant ships from Cozique and Berringey, and four or five others that he could name. And there, a whole cluster of ships with the distinctive heraldry of Malinqua, a red field divided into quarters by crossed swords; the militant message was somewhat softened by the small white flowers that marched symmetrically across the cloth. It looked like there were six or eight Malinquese ships docked in the harbor all at once. And there were another four or five hovering a half mile or so offshore—or, rather, another ten or twelve—a whole fleet, actually—
Rafe looked over at Zoe. “I thought the empress of Malinqua wasn’t coming for at least another nineday.”
“That’s what Darien thinks, too,” she said. Her eyes never left the harbor.
“She’s certainly brought a large escort,” he added.
Zoe nodded. “Much larger than Ghyaneth’s, and he made a point of being followed around by twenty guards wherever he went.”
“She’s not—I mean, she’s not invading us, is she?” Josetta asked, her voice uncertain.
“I don’t think there would be enough soldiers in those ships to really mount an offensive,” Rafe said.
“No,” said Zoe slowly. “But there could be another hundred ships out in the deep ocean, just waiting to be summoned.”
There was a beat of silence. “We have to tell Darien,” Corene said.
Zoe nodded. “You know your father keeps spies here in the city. One of them is already racing to Chialto with the news. But we need to get back with all speed.”
Josetta nodded and turned away from the window. “We can help you carry your bags downstairs. Do you want to take any food with you?”
“Oh no. You’re coming with us,” Zoe said.
“But—”
“Darien’s going to want you back under his protection the minute he hears that the empress has sailed into the harbor with all colors flying.” She jerked her head in Rafe’s direction. “He’s got to come, too, of course.”
“Can’t we join you in a few days?” Josetta asked.
“Kayle’s expecting me in the morning,” Rafe put in.
Zoe almost laughed in their faces. “Where do you think Kayle will be headed tomorrow? A foreign dignitary has arrived on Welce soil, bringing a formidable force at her back. All primes, all heirs will be convening in Chialto—with all haste.”
Josetta sighed and gave Rafe a look of resignation. “We’d better start gathering our things.”
Rafe nodded over at Steff, who was still sitting on the sofa, but looking a little anxious as the conversation progressed. “I need a day to get Steff settled. I can’t just abandon him in a strange place.”
“I’ll be fine,” Steff said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
Zoe was smiling. “Bring him along. We have a big house. Plenty of room.”
“I’m not sure Darien Serlast will—”
“Darien Serlast will be happy to have him. Come on. Everyone start packing.”
• • •
Before long, they were all piling back into the elaymotives again. Rafe had thought it might be brotherly of him to sit beside Steff in the back of Zoe’s big vehicle so he could point out the sights of Chialto. Here’s the Cinque. There’s the Plaza of Women. If you follow that road halfway up the mountain, you’ll arrive at the palace—can you see it? Splendid, isn’t it, with the river making that spectacular fall right beside it. But when he offered, Corene said, “I don’t mind sitting back here with him. I’ll tell him what everything is. You’d probably just get stuff wrong, anyway.”
He’d glanced at Josetta with lifted eyebrows, and she’d smiled. “Well, you probably would,” she said softly. But he could tell she was having the same thought that was uppermost in his mind: Corene rather likes Steff. The princess was indulging in a mild flirtation with the country boy. Who would have expected that?
Rafe tried to judge his brother with dispassionate eyes. Steff was good-looking enough, he supposed—taller and thinner than Rafe, but more muscled from a lifetime of hard physical labor. Rafe always thought of him as a little sulky and dissatisfied, but he’d been the complete opposite during these past few days. He’d been good-natured, hardworking, deeply interested in the events unfolding around him, and generally agreeable. Well. Maybe the princess was enjoying his company after all.
As before, they made good time in the royal elaymotives, but there was still a fair amount of ground to cover. It was almost the dinner hour by the time they pulled up in front of the tall, gracious Serlast manor and everyone began spilling out of the elaymotives. Foley organized the guards and hustled them off to some post in the back of the house, while silent, efficient servants unloaded the cars and made their luggage vanish.
Darien was awaiting them inside the kierten, his arms crossed and his expression sardonic. Zoe didn’t wait for him to speak first.
“Darien, have you heard?” she demanded. “The empress of Malinqua is at the harbor, at least a nineday before we expected her!”
“Yes, I sent for her, hoping her presence would goad you into returning home. Since nothing else appeared likely to,” Darien replied.
He didn’t sound angry, and Zoe didn’t look remotely contrite. “Well, you would have stayed, too, if you’d had a chance to see all the wonders I saw,” she said. “But what are we going to do about the empress?”
“Welcome her, of course, but with perhaps a little more presence than I had planned,” Darien responded. “I’ve called up some of our naval fleet to sail down to the harbor, and I’m bringing more troops into the city. Just to be safe. I can’t think she’s planning an assault, but she’s obviously trying to make a point. So we must make one of our own.”
“Will you call Romelle and—and Mally in?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I had originally considered the presence of the heir to be essential, but with that situation in so much turmoil, Romelle’s attendance might be more trouble than benefit. If the empress seems offended, I can use her own tactics against her and say her unexpected show of force made me reluctant to put our smallest princess at risk. I think it is an argument that will carry some weight with her.”
They were all still standing in the kierten, but Zoe made brushing motions to urge them deeper into the house. “Let’s get everyone settled into rooms, and then, I hope, find something to eat. We only had travel rations on
the road, and I’m starving. How’s Celia?”
“As she always is—alternately delightful and temperamental, and unfailingly vocal,” Darien said. He nodded over toward Steff, who was standing in Rafe’s shadow and trying not to gawk at the understated luxury of the house. “I don’t think I know this young man.”
“He’s Rafe’s brother,” Corene explained. “He came to Chialto to visit Rafe, and he’s been having adventures with us.”
“‘Adventures’?” Darien repeated, glancing at Zoe.
She grinned and tugged Steff forward. “Steff, this is my husband, and Corene’s father, and the regent of Welce, Darien Serlast. He tries to be intimidating, but don’t let him alarm you. He’s not as hostile as he seems.”
“Sometimes I am,” Darien said in a pleasant voice as he eyed the boy critically. “But I didn’t realize there was a brother! Are you very much like Rafe?”
He glanced at Zoe when he posed the question, and Rafe realized he was really asking her about Steff’s bloodline. Is this another Berringese prince we will have to protect? And does he know his heritage?
“I guess we’re a little alike,” Steff said nervously.
But Zoe was smiling and shaking her head. “I’ve only spent a couple of days with Steff but I feel certain he’s very different,” she said.
Rafe thought the regent relaxed at the words. “Welcome to the house in any case,” Darien said.
“Enough talking in hallways!” Zoe exclaimed. “All of you follow me upstairs while Darien makes sure dinner is served as soon as humanly possible. Then we can talk and talk and talk until we run out of things to say.”
• • •
Rafe reflected later that this particular clan probably never did run out of things to say. The meal wasn’t exactly boisterous, but Josetta and her family members all vied with each other to fill what moments of silence inexplicably occurred. They had no end of topics to discuss, from what to do about Romelle and Mally to what kind of tone to take with the newly arrived empress of Malinqua. Darien wanted to hear specifics on their “adventures,” which led to talk of Josetta’s shelter and Rafe’s aeromotive exploits. Then they all wanted to catch up on any gossip Darien had heard while they had been gone. Even Celia, sitting in Zoe’s lap for the meal, expressed herself frequently and vociferously, though not particularly intelligibly. Rafe figured it was only a matter of time.