“Stop!” He grabbed her hand and lowered it. His voice shook. “I know them as well as you do. But they knew the risks, and if Hans wasn’t behind our losses, someone else would be. Maniel, we’re talking about imprisoning someone for an indefinite amount of time. Is that what you want? Have you forgotten?”
Maniel stepped back with a sharp intake of breath. She looked like she’d been slapped and Andeal regretted his words. Of course she hadn’t forgotten. He reached for her shoulder, softly, and his voice fell to a whisper.
“I refuse to inflict that on anyone. Not even Hans Vermen.”
“He’ll betray you. Don’t fool yourself, Andeal. He is a Union officer and your kindness won’t change that. When given the choice, he will abandon you.”
“He didn’t shoot Seraphin. That has to count for something.”
She studied him in silence, worry battling anger in her gaze. Try as he might, it was hard to dismiss Maniel’s assessment. Was she right? Would his trust in Vermen be disregarded on the first occasion? Could he risk the entire rebel encampment because of the persistent voice in his head, telling him he was worth the risk?
“I’ll be careful,” he said.
A bitter smile curled her thin lips. “You never are.”
Andeal chuckled and smiled back. “True. Once we retrieve the envelope, though, things might start moving faster. I don’t want a prisoner while we go after the Clarins.”
“You can’t decide if he’s trustworthy by yourself. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. With Seraphin.” Maniel had added just a bit of weight to her tone as she mentioned their Regarian friend. She knew they’d fought. They probably would again. Andeal ground his teeth together and let her go on.
“Any news from Henry?”
This time his shoulders slumped. He moved to their two-seater and let himself fall into the cushion with a sigh. “He wants to leave. I tried holding him back but nothing I say will change his mind.”
Maniel settled next to him and slid her fingers in his. “You can’t force him, Andeal.”
“But it’s so wrong!” He pulled his wife closer, then started playing with the leather band on his ring finger. “He’s bitter, I get it, but Lenz is his father and Henry being a part of our fight was his last wish. If I had any news from my parents, I’d be overjoyed!”
“They didn’t leave you.” Maniel was running a hand back and forth through his hair. He let the feeling of her slender fingers brushing against his scalp calm him and closed his eyes to focus on them and her voice. “Nothing excuses abandoning Henry the way Lenz did. He has a right to be angry.”
“So what do we do?”
“Let him go.” He tensed at her words and she chuckled. She must have expected this reaction and went on with barely a pause. “Before he leaves, however…I think he ought to know more. Even if he never forgives him, he should learn what kind of man his father really was. You should show him Lenz Schmitt’s legacy.”
Andeal’s eyes flew open. She could only mean one thing by that. He turned to face her, a childish grin stretching his lips.
“The Lenz Balloon?”
Her soft laugh was music to his ears. “Of course, the Lenz Balloon. If you hadn’t been so obsessed with that captain, you would’ve shown him ages ago.”
A pang of guilt mitigated Andeal’s enthusiasm. She was right, he’d spent a lot of time with Hans. In a way, the gruff captain was easier to deal with.
“He’ll love it,” Andeal said. “He has to.”
CHAPTER NINE
Henry studied his hand of cards, desperate to find a brilliant solution and trump Joshua’s great move. He tapped on the table with his fingers to vent his building frustration. What could he do without any faces? He was beaten. Again. Perhaps if he tried a hundredth time, he’d finally beat Joshua! Not today, though. He dropped his cards on the table and raised his hands in defeat.
“Okay, you win! I give up.”
Joshua chuckled and gathered the spread cards. “So soon?”
Henry crossed his arms. If the redheaded Burgian wanted to be cheeky, fine, but he’d have no help storing the deck. The other rebels cast them sidelong glances and shook their heads. None of them played with Joshua anymore. They’d learned with time that they couldn’t beat the man and preferred games of skill to a game of cards. That was why the sandbag game was so popular. At least they stood a chance there.
Losing didn’t bother Henry, though. He was used to it. Paul and Kinsi had the upper hand in most of their Wednesday night games. Henry played for the company and when it came to talking, Joshua was hard to beat too. He’d been strangely serious and silent today, however.
“Something on your mind?” Henry asked. “By now, you should be all over your genius strategy.”
“I heard you were leaving us.”
“Oh.” Henry squirmed on his wooden stool. “Yeah. There’s nothing for me here.”
He’d decided to leave while crouched in the rebels’ kitchens, munching on a bowl of noodles he’d miraculously found behind a pile of rice bags and cans. He’d return to Ferrea, gather what little the army had left, and head for Reverence. The hike terrified him but he still had most of Seraphin’s sixty bucks and once he reached a bigger town, he might manage to hitch a ride to the capital. He’d figure it out. Anything was better than staying in these underground tunnels. Nothing moved here. No leaves danced in the wind’s caress, no animals scurried away at your passage, no birds plagued your morning sleep with their songs. Only the occasional snippets of conversation and the flickering of the large electric lights brought a semblance of life to this place.
“You’ll be missed, y’know.” Joshua tapped the deck of cards on the table to align them into a neat pile. “I hadn’t played that game in ages. The others avoid it all the time.”
“I noticed. You should’ve let them win every now and then.”
“No way!” His eyebrows shot up and he wiggled his finger at him. “A win’s worth nothing if you didn’t earn it for yourself. The Lady Luck watches over all, but it’s up to you to work with what she gives.”
Henry shrugged. The Burgian goddess lacked an eye for fairness, if you asked him. She’d given it all to a few men and left the others to struggle. Joshua didn’t seem to mind, even though his red hair proved he’d seen his share of troubles. He wondered what the man had done to be branded by his kin. Not to mention why he’d never shaved or hidden the clear mark of disgrace. Henry rubbed the bridge of his nose. How had he wound up hiding under Mount Kairn with criminals?
“Can’t you be convinced to stay?” Joshua asked. “We need all the men we can get.”
It warmed his heart to know others wanted him here, but he shook his head. “I’m not a hero. Or a rebel or whatever you want to call it. I wanted to hear my father’s last words and as it happens they weren’t really addressed to his son. It’s safe home now, so I’m leaving.”
“You think I’m a hero?” His mirth started as a low chuckle but the more he considered the thought, the harder Joshua laughed. Henry bided his time until Joshua wiped the tears from his eyes and became serious once more. “Look around you, Henry. Most of us are petty criminals, men and women down on their luck. We sought shelter and something to eat. But we shared our stories with others, and Andeal told us what the Clarin brothers had done to him, what they might’ve done for the Union and we thought ‘man, there’s something wrong with this.’ Some are used to lying, thieving, risking, but most had never held a firearm in their life. We didn’t stay because we had the skill set. No one’s a hero. Why should you be?”
“I don’t want to be a part of this. I can’t lie, risks scare me, and if the winds are willing, I’ll never hold another pistol in my life. Peace and quiet are all I’m asking for. I won’t have them here.”
Joshua snorted. The words peace and quiet had brought a slight sneer to his expression. He stored his deck of cards. “Fine then. Go back to the ignorant flock. Wait, see, do nothing.”
His su
dden contempt surprised Henry. Joshua might not understand, but the flock was exactly his goal. He clenched his teeth and ignored the insult.
“I will.”
“When?”
Henry opened his mouth to answer but realised he had none to give. He thought a lot of leaving but had yet to make a decision about the date. In truth, he’d yet to do anything about it. Joshua must’ve guessed because his smile returned.
“Looks like I have a few games left with you.”
Not wanting to confirm or deny his deduction, Henry changed the topic. “You never told me your story. How did you get branded? Cheated at cards?”
“I stuck it where I shouldn’t have.” He leaned back, his hands behind his head. “Love, my friend, will get you in trouble faster than anything else.”
“Love isn’t a crime among Burgian tribes. Neither is sex, as far as I know.”
“Oh, it all depends what kind of sex and with whom. My people were not keen on man-on-man action, even less so when it came to the chief’s son.” An amused smile drifted across Joshua’s lips, as though his entire exile was a joke. “It’s all good, though. Seraphin more than made up for the trouble.”
His tone implied a lot more than shelter, food, and friends. Joshua seemed about to add to the story when his gaze caught something behind Henry and followed it. He leaned forward and whispered. “I think I’m not the only one who’d rather see you stay.”
Henry spun on his chair. Andeal had just entered the mess hall and made a beeline for him. Would he ever let it go? Every day since he’d read the bloodied letter, Andeal sought him out and tried to change his mind. He seemed in a great mood this time and arrived with a confident smile. Henry cut to the chase.
“I said no. I leave tomorrow.”
Joshua’s eyebrows shot up. Andeal frowned but if he was surprised, he didn’t let it show.
“Good thing I found you, then! There’s one last thing I have to show you.”
His cheerful tone rattled Henry’s nerves. Someone needed to learn what ‘no’ meant. He remained firmly seated. “What if I’d rather play another game with Joshua?”
A mistake. Joshua stood, raising both of his hands, then stepped back. “Sorry mate. I was on my way to the kitchens. A hero’s got to eat, y’know.”
He winked at Henry, who held back a curse. His friend’s quick departure left him alone with Andeal, with no excuses not to follow the engineer. Joshua’s desire to see him stay must be strong if the hardcore player was willing to skip a game like this. Henry sighed.
“You could show me a warehouse full of instant noodles and I’d still be leaving.”
“And I’ll help you with the planning if you want. I’m not here to hold you back, not anymore. I just have this pet project I want to share with you before you go. I think you’ll love it!”
His enthusiasm intrigued Henry. Although suspicious of Andeal’s sudden acceptance, he rose and agreed to go with him. After all, he could always leave if this week’s routine started once more. Andeal led him out of the mess hall, but to Henry’s surprise, he did not head to his room. The engineer took tunnels Henry had not explored before, and when asked what their final destination was, he responded with a mysterious smile. They climbed inside the mountain and his curiosity grew as they gained in height. Why were they going up? A familiar flutter in his stomach reminded him of the excitement when the Annual Race’s goodies arrived at the shop. Opening the crates was like receiving a gift. Half the fun came from the built-up anticipation and guessing, and Henry had cherished the ritual for as long as he remembered. Even before the Plague, Lenz had allowed him to look into the boxes first.
Henry pushed the thought away. Better not to think of his father now; it’d ruin his mood. Besides, Andeal had reached a large opening, behind which the electric lights seemed dimmer. He hurried to catch up.
Henry stopped as he caught sight of the cavern behind Andeal. The ceiling extended high above their heads to a neck-breaking height and the lamps lined along the wide, irregular walls did not suffice to reveal its details. Shadows hid the relief, leaving Henry standing under a dark void. He tore his gaze away. The breathtaking dimensions of the room could not retain his interest for long.
Not with the strangest hot air balloon basket he’d ever seen standing in the middle.
Although Henry Schmitt recognised it for what it was, several major changes disturbed him. It hung in the middle of the room on a construction scaffold, set in a long wooden ramp that headed straight into a sideways tunnel. Wheels under the basket allowed it to roll along the small slope if pushed, its direction controlled by the linear construction. Worst of all, however, was the large plastic propeller under it. The flat blades ran the length of the basket and while the sight was impressive, their usefulness was doubtful. The added weight would only complicate the flight.
“You can’t take off with a propeller,” he said.
“It’s not for take-off, silly. It’s for direction.”
Without waiting for an answer, Andeal grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the room. A few rebels worked on the railing, near the tunnel entrance. Their voices bounced off the cavern walls, distorted in the echo. Like ghosts in an empty space. Henry shivered and tried to ignore the disturbing sound. He focused his energy on the decrepit table next to the basket.
Complicated plans had been taped to the musty surface. Although Henry made out the balloon’s general scheme right away, he took some time to disentangle the mess of lines and notes. Andeal had drawn the propeller on the side here and when Henry studied its support, he realized it was connected to a lever inside the basket. He lifted his head but could not see. Without a word he left the plans, climbed upon a small stool, then heaved himself into the balloon.
The large lever inside was built from the same material as the propeller. Henry tapped it; it rang hollow. Good. Less added weight. He grabbed it and pulled. The large blades underneath creaked, but he lacked the strength to move them with one hand. When Henry put both arms to work, however, they shifted, heading for the side of the balloon. The scaffold soon interrupted their movement. At his feet lay a small battery and flexible green solar tissue. More than enough to power the propeller. How often had his father complained the wind direction stopped him from flying around Mount Kairn? Henry couldn’t help but smile.
“It was his idea, you know,” Andeal said from the ground. “I did the math and the plans, but he imagined it.”
“I’m not surprised.” His smile vanished and he ran his hand along the inside. He’d always loved the stringy texture and strange relief. Nobody flew balloons anymore. They demanded gas and it’d almost all been wiped out in the Last Drop War. His father had used the last of his stock to fly him, just once. Then the Threstle Plague arrived and all air traffic was shut down except for the army’s war zeppelins.
“Why a balloon? You can’t fly it. You have no gas and no envelope!”
“We stole gas years ago. We wanted to finance our activities with it but never found a safe buyer. Those cans brought us the first of the Union’s attention. Then Stern deserted and brought us some of General Omar Clarin’s confidential correspondence and they set Vermen after us.”
“Great, so you can take off if you find an envelope.” Henry ignored all the information about their illegal activities. “You’ll still be spotted and reported within the hour.”
“Doubtful.” Andeal strode to the stool and climbed into the balloon with practiced ease. “Gas is a luxury these days. You’ve got to have a few thousand to waste to acquire any and the rare hot air balloon that takes off is to satisfy a man’s longing for an old-fashioned pleasure flight. Would you see a balloon and think it’s controlled by an underground group of outlaws? Or is it much more likely someone earning twenty times your salary is enjoying himself up there? I guarantee you that until the Union learns we built this and demand it to be reported, no one will think twice about us.”
He might be right, but it seemed a dangerous gamble
to Henry. Propeller or not, hot air balloons were slow and easy targets. If they sent zeppelins after the rebels, they would not stand a chance. Not his problem. The rebels could take all the risks they wanted, he would not be there to suffer from it.
“I don’t want to know what you plan to do with this.” He gave a slight kick to the inside, then set his hands on the railing and passed one leg over it.
“We’d have been happy to have you fly us across Union territory if you weren’t leaving tomorrow. I guess I’ll have to, then.”
Henry stopped. After his first flight, he’d begged his father to teach him. Somehow, he promised, he’d make a job out of it. Fly for those with money or in zeppelins. He couldn’t imagine staying grounded all his life after that day. Until his mother fell ill, aircrafts had been his only obsession. Time, poverty, and loss had crushed it.
But he could fly, if he stayed. Pilot for the first time.
Then what? Be branded a criminal for a few hours in the sky? End his life in a spectacular crash after a Union zeppelin shot them down? Absurd. Henry pushed himself off the railing and landed on the ground. From the basket, Andeal waited for his reaction.
“You can’t cross that big a distance in a balloon. You’ll use up an entire container of gas in a few hours.”
Despite his best efforts, his voice shook as he spoke. Henry clenched his teeth and took a step back.
“This one can fly weeks without landing, if need be. Take a look at the plans. There’s—”
“I don’t care,” Henry interrupted. “Good luck with it.”
He hurried away from the scaffold. Better to put some distance between himself and the basket now before he did something unreasonable. He could not fly. Too dangerous. Too beautiful. He ought to forget everything about this balloon, the rebels, and his father. It hurt more than it helped. Leaving tomorrow was his best decision since…he couldn’t remember since when. The last week had been a succession of mistakes.
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