All The Turns of Light (33 page)

“I hate the thought of hanging so close to the water for six hours,” Mug said, as he flew next to Meralda.

“I thought you hated flying through storms,” Meralda said.

“That too,” agreed Mug. “It occurs to me there isn’t much about this infernal voyage I don’t despise. Present company excepted, of course. Hello, Donchen.”

A smiling Donchen emerged from a doorway and fell into step beside Meralda.

“I take it we’re going to pump seawater aboard,” he said. “I believe I’ll go along, if you don’t mind.”

“I need you to speak to the Vonat,” Meralda said. “I don’t have time, but there are things I need to know.”

Donchen frowned briefly. “About what?”

“About this Vonat myth you mentioned earlier,” replied Meralda. “The Gaunt, I believe he called it. I need details. History. Associated folklore. Anything and everything he can remember.”

“You believe the crew might actually have caught glimpses of a giant, through the clouds?”

“Of course not. But if the Vonats believe in this prophecy of theirs, might they not shape magic according to the images of their myths?”

Donchen shrugged. “I suppose. If that is what you wish, Meralda, I’ll see Kurbus immediately. As long as you promise to be careful out on that ramp.”

Meralda rolled her eyes, which caused the glow of them to circle from wall to ceiling to wall again. “I promise I will not trip and fall into the Great Sea,” she said. “Honestly.”

“Very well,” replied Donchen. “I will find out as much as I can.”

“Thanks,” Meralda said.

Donchen nodded and headed off toward the Vonat’s cabin.

“Well, you got rid of him handily enough,” Mug said when Donchen was gone. “But don’t think you’ll be rid of me so easily. I’m not blinded by love.”

“Nor is he,” Meralda said. They reached the end of the passageway, and descended into the loading bay via the spiral stairs. “And you will do as I say as soon as I say it, or else. Is that understood?”

Mug spun his cage around. “Yes sir, Captain sir,” he said, bringing up a gaggle of leaves in a mocking salute. “Shall I watch for sea monsters or rampaging giants?”

The pump crew, consisting of half a dozen grease-smudged Tirls all cursing and banging on the hose reel with hammers, saw Meralda and went suddenly silent.

“Evening, Chief Engineer,” said the foreman, flustered. “Sorry for the language, but the reel bearing is stuck. Salt air, I figure.”

“Get a torch,” Meralda said. “Just don’t start a grease fire. Who is in charge of the ramp winch?”

“That would be me,” cried a voice from above, the speaker lost in the frame of the massive crane that lay stowed against the
Intrepid’s
hull. “Airman Corliss, ma’am.”

“Open the bay,” called Meralda. “Lower the ramp. I’m going out to keep watch.”

“Yes ma’am,” came the faint reply. A moment later an electric motor whined, and the massive loading ramp began to inch down, revealing slices of night on all three sides as it lowered.

Instantly the wind howled, and wisps of cold wet air rushed in. “Mind the breeze,” Mug said. “Last I looked, our airspeed was a hundred and twenty, and it’ll take us a while to slow down.”

Meralda nodded, his words barely registering. She gazed out at the widening slices of night, and remembered flying weightless amongthe clouds, taunting a giant, filling the heavens with her glee.

Did that really happen? Have I lost the capacity to separate reality from fantasy?

“Mistress,” cried Mug. “Feet on the ramp, if you please. Let’s not make the crew more nervous than they are, shall we?”

Meralda started, and fell half a foot.

“Better than a rain of frogs,” shouted Mug. His cage swiveled. “They’ve freed the hose reel. We’re in business, Mistress. Let’s go watch the show.”

Mug buzzed down the ramp, wobbling a bit as the rushing wind caught his cage. His coils whined, but he managed to remain over the ramp.

Meralda followed. She gripped the rail at first, until she realized the wind was barely ruffling her hair. She could hear it howl, feel faint tugs on her blouse and skirt, but the air passed around her, parting as if she were a smooth, massive stone.

The ramp jerked as the crew locked it into place. Meralda walked all the way to the lowest point, stood at the end, and waited for the crane to lower the pump assembly toward the sea.

The airship slowed, turning in a wide arc, flying coils disengaged, running on four of her fans. Even on the moonless night Meralda could see the waves rising up below, could see the sheen of primal forces that rippled and moved with the water.

“Two hundred feet,” called a pumper. “Mark for fifty.”

Meralda turned her eyes from the sea to the horizon.

The storm in which they’d hidden was dispersing. Stars peeked through it, and the air smelled of salt, but not rain. It was cool out, deliciously so, and for a moment Meralda recalled fall evenings in Tirlin, and drinking hot tea on her apartment stoop while reading the evening paper by the light of a streetlamp.

I won’t need streetlamps anymore, she thought. Her eye-lights illuminated the ramp and the descending bulk of the pump.

I shall never return to Tirlin.

The thought came from nowhere and struck her like a blow. It had the weight of truth, the familiar sense of a fact remembered, not conjecture just conceived. It’s not suspicion, Meralda realized–it’s more akin to prophecy.

Mug buzzed near. “Mistress?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

“My eyes have turned into magelamps, I fly when I’m not paying attention to my feet, and earlier today I experienced a brief shower of doorknobs,” Meralda said. “What could possibly be wrong?”

“One hundred feet,” cried the pumper. “Mark for fifty.”

Below the waves rose and fell, calming after the storm, but still choppy enough to fill the air with spray.

Meralda recalled sitting in the Laboratory in her dream, being surrounded again by all the familiar things she’d come to love.

None of you will return.

Meralda gasped, turning to hide her face from Mug. For the briefest of instants, she heard screams, smelled smoke, saw the
Intrepid
in flames, hurtling down toward the Great Sea, lost and doomed and dying.

“No,” Meralda said, in a whisper. “Stop it. I do not accept these things.”

“Mark at fifty!” cried the pumper. “Mark and hold! Mark and hold!”

The cry to mark and hold was repeated, and the airship slowed, swung, and came to rest.

“Mind the pump,” Mug said, his voice soft by Meralda’s ear. She moved aside as the ponderous bulk eased over the rail and began its careful descent into the Sea.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, Mistress,” Mug said. “All I can do is tell you I love you, and promise I’ll stay by your side, come what may.” Mug swung eyes toward Meralda. “I just wish I knew what to
do,
Mistress. How to help.”

“All we can do is watch,” she said. “You take the Sea. I’ll watch the sky.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Mug said. He flew so close his cage came to rest against Meralda’s shoulder. “I’ll watch forever, if that’s what it takes.”

Meralda nodded, and they both fell silent as the pump splashed down into the eager waves.

* * *

“The sun will be up soon,” Mug said. His eyes swept the waves below. “Let’s hope our sea serpents aren’t early risers.”

Meralda nodded. The long night was nearly spent. A wide ribbon of dawn already lay above the eastern horizon, and overhead the stars were winking out, one by one.

“We won’t cast a shadow for quite some time yet,” Meralda said. As soon as she spoke the words, she saw a way to move the
Intrepid’s
shadow, with a simple twist of will.

“How much water have we taken aboard, do you think?” asked Mug.

“A little over five hours’ worth,” Meralda said. “Enough to replenish our gas bags, at least for now.”

“That’s good. Beastie should have the Number 18 release valve linkage fixed by now. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I’m ready to get back inside some clouds. It’s too open down here.” Mug paused, his eyes swiveling about wildly. “Mistress, what’s the awful smell?”

Meralda sniffed at the air.

Smoke.

The speaking tube mounted at the top of the ramp buzzed. “Loading bay. The aft telescope spotter reports movement due west. Be advised. Prepare for pump retrieval and emergency ascent.”

“Oh no,” Mug said. He turned his eyes west, and all twenty-nine of them scanned the dawn sky.

Meralda looked as well, clenching her jaw and her fists as she struggled to keep her Sight from extending too far. For a moment, she saw only blurred, moving vistas of pink sky and the sun’s wide arcane aura.

She heard crows’ wings flap close beside her.

It approaches,
said Nameless.

One hundred miles, but running,
added Faceless.

‘
Twill be here in mere moments.

The pumpers shouted and cursed. Water fell from the massive hose, gurgling as it fell, and the crane began to whine as it hoisted the pump from the Sea.

“Forward spotters report sighting,” said the Captain from the voice tube. “All hands, make secure. Ascent and acceleration imminent. Chief Engineer, signal when the pump is stowed.”

“Mistress,” Mug said, his leaves wilting. “I see it, and I still don’t believe it.”

Meralda twisted Donchen’s gold ring. A moment of calm fell over her, and her Sight became crystal clear.

On the westward horizon, an impossibly tall man surged toward the airship, moving through the Sea in great awkward strides. The Sea was halfway up his thighs, but the Gaunt forced his way through the deep waters. His arms were outstretched, and as he neared his mouth worked, as though speaking.

Below the
Intrepid
, the waves grew, surging out from the giant, growing as he approached.

It isn’t real, thought Meralda. It cannot be real. I am awake.

The Gaunt seemed to hear, for it lowered a bony forefinger toward her, and began to howl in earnest.

“Stow the pump!” shouted Mug. His cage buzzed, straining as he wrapped his vines around Meralda’s wrist and tried to drag her up the ramp. “Mistress, let’s go, hurry!”

Meralda shook him off. “Get inside,” she said. “Staves. Can you slow it down?”

The crows exchanged a look, flapping and cawing.

“Well can you or can’t you?” Mug said.

We have decided, lady Mage,
said one.

We will fight for you,
said the other.

Doomed we may be,
they said, as one.
Grant us this boon. Allow us to assume our true forms
.

The Gaunt drew near, each step a journey of miles. Meralda nodded.

“Do what you will,” she said. “Fare thee both well.”

The crows flew from the rail, plummeting toward the Sea. Each grew as it fell, elongating, thickening, crow’s wings becoming enormous wings of leather and claws, beaks and crow’s feet changing to scaled dragon heads and massive dragon claws. Still each dragon grew, until they were half the length of the
Intrepid
, and still growing.

The transformation completed, two black dragons skimmed the waves, roaring in exultation before flapping toward the Gaunt.

Mug followed their flight with all of his eyes.

“I called them chickens,” he said.

Meralda fixed her eyes upon the pump, which still hung ten feet below the ramp.

Her eyes blazed. The pump leaped up, swung over the rail, and floated back into its place. The pump crew scattered at first, but rushed back to secure the machine before Meralda could order them to action.

“Ascend,” Meralda said, in a voice as loud as thunder. “Pump secured.”

The
Intrepid
lurched skyward, fans and coils driving her as best they could.

“It won’t be enough,” Meralda said. Creating a mental model of the Gaunt’s approach and the airship’s reduced lift and speed was the work of only a split second. She saw the Gaunt take the airship in its hand and crush her in half, spilling passengers and crew into the Sea, where it simply flailed at them until no one was left.

Meralda lifted her hand.

For a moment, she resisted. Perhaps the Gaunt will stumble. Perhaps the coils were sufficiently cool to allow for slightly more speed than I estimated. Is attacking the Gaunt and endangering the world worth the risk?

The Gaunt howled, its black eyes turned full upon Meralda, its face twisted in a hateful grimace.

Meralda released the tiniest fraction of the unmagic she felt welling up behind her eyes.