The Flying Sorcerers

“Yes,” I said. “I am.”

“You are a brave man,” he said. “I shall miss you.”

Farther up the slope I could see both my wives with Gortik. They were sobbing copiously. Little Gortik waved happily.

“All right,” Purple was saying, “ground crew take your positions.”

I looked around me, thousands of faces were looking back.

Wilville and Orbur waved at them. They had climbed onto their bicycles, and were just tying their safety ropes. Underneath, the boat rocked gently. “You know,” I said suddenly, “I think I ought to stay behind, after all. I —”

Shoogar pulled me down again. “Shut up, Lant — you want everyone to think you’re a coward ?”

“I’d just as soon they know it for sure — let go of me, I Shoogar!”

Purple was standing at the rear of the boat, one hand on the rigging to balance himself. He was gesturing at the ground crew. I pulled myself away from Shoogar and looked. Trone and his men were stationing themselves around the cradle. “Each had a heavy knife and was waiting by a mooring rope.

“All right, now,” Purple shouted. “All the ropes have to be cut at once, so wait for my signal. We will do it just as I said. I will count backwards — ready, now? Ten, nine, eight —”

“Shoogar, let go of me!” I said. “I’m not going —”

“Yes, you are!”

“— to do anything foolish!”

“You are too!”

“Seven, six, five —”

“Shoogar!”

“Four, three —”

There were fifty jarring thunks! as the knives came down on the ropes. We shot upwards! The crowd cheered. I yelped. Shoogar screamed and clutched at me. The boat rocked wildly and I grabbed at something to keep from falling — there was a tearing sound — it was Shoogar’s spell belt.

We were in a tumbled heap at the bottom of the boat. I pulled myself into a sitting position, and back up onto the bench. Purple was cursing furiously, “You addle-brained idiots! You can’t even count right!! I didn’t even get to Finish —”

“Finish what?” I said. Three is the spell number, Purple. All spells start with three.”

He looked at me stupidly, then he turned away muttering; “Of course, Purple; three is the spell number, Purple; how can you be so stupid, Purple — Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a —” His words were whipped away by the wind.

I looked around. Shoogar was peering curiously over the side.

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“My spell belt, you fool! You ripped it.”

I joined him at the rail. The boat tipped precariously, but Purple shifted his weight in the rear, and we balanced again. “It must be the lack of a keel,” called Orbur from his outrigger.

And now, for the first time since the ascent, I had a chance to look down. Far below us was the Crag, red sunlight slanting severely across it. Blue shadows stretched outward to infinity. Tiny people, getting tinier every moment, moved below. I could see the landing cradle, the housetrees, the foamy edge of the sea, and the rippled surface of it stretching out to the end of the world.

On the other side were the peaks of the mountains. We were even above them.

Shoogar was still looking down “What are you so upset about?” I asked. “Most of your spells are here at the bottom of the boat.”

“I know,” he said. “I saw them — but the one you ripped — it spilled out. It’s going to hang in the air over the village for days.”

“Oh,” I said. “What is it?”

“A powder. You remember the dust of yearning?”

“The spell we used on Purple the day we destroyed his black egg?”

“That’s the one.”

I shuddered. I remembered it well. After just a few sniffs of it, Purple had gone into the village and done the family-making thing with my wife. Repeatedly.

“I wonder,” said Shoogar. “I wonder…”

“Well, we must go back,” I said. “You must show them the proper herbs to chew — there isn’t another magician in the region. There will be chaos —”

“Go back?” said Shoogar. “You are jesting. You will not bring this craft down to the ground again until the airgas gets tired of working and sneaks out of the balloons. Besides, we are moving strongly north —”

He was right, of course. I left him at the railing and moved to another part of the boat. It swayed sickeningly under my every step. Wilville called across to Orbur, “I think we should put the keel back on!”

“Me too!” he answered.

“No,” said Purple, “all you need do is rearrange the rigging. Spread it our farther at the bottom. It will give the hoist a wider stance.”

“The who a what?” they called.

He sighed. “Never mind.”

The wind was strong this high in the sky. Idiot’s Crag had shrunk to a spear of black on the horizon. Below us the sea was many colors. Spots were brown and opaque with mud. In some places reefs showed through. There were groves of submerged trees as well, spines of mountain rock, and even a tall cairn to Musk-Watz. You could see them all sticking out of the water. There were churning whirlpools and vast rippling tides, and the surface of the water was gray and foamy.

Purple was sighting against the sun and marking something on a skin which had been stretched across a framework. Strange lines speared out from the center of the skin to its edges. “It’s a direction-telling spell,” explained Purple.

We re headed almost directly east.”

“I could have told you that,” I said.

“Huh?”

I pointed below. “See that spine of land there? That’s the way we followed on our migration. It leads directly to the old village.”

“It does?” Purple leaned far over the edge and tried to follow it with his eyes. I feared for his balance, but even more I feared for Shoogar who watched us with eyes gleaming.

He straightened then. “Wilville, Orbur! We want to change course. Unsling your airpushers!”

They nodded and began to do so. First one of the bladed wheels swung down to hang a manheight below the precarious outrigger, then the other on the other side. I shuddered as I watched. I would not trade places with either of my sons. You would not get me out there, with nothing between me and the sea but empty air.

“We have to come about,” called Purple. Turn toward the west — left about ninety degrees.” I didn’t understand that last, but the boys apparently did. Wilville began back-pedaling while Orbur pedaled forward. Slowly the Cathawk turned in the sky. The red sunlight seeped through the rigging, and the shadows shifted across our face.

Purple watched carefully on his measuring skin. A small rod stuck up from the center, and he watched the position of its shadow. He called, “All right, stop!” He waited until both airpushers were still, then checked the shadow again. “Not enough,” he called, “another ten degrees.”

When we were finally pointed in the right direction he gave another order. “Quarter speed,” he called. The two boys began chanting and pedaling. They had removed the extra twist in the pulleys, so that the airpushers blew their wind sternward again and the boys faced in the direction they were going.

The chant was at a set rhythm, and they pedaled in time to it. Purple watched them for a while, then he peered over the side again. After a bit he said, “Ah.” He straightened. “We are on the right course. We are traveling parallel to that spine of land you pointed out, Lant. If the wind lets up at all, we will try to get directly over it”

He went to the back of the boat then and stretched out on a cot of aircloth over a wide frame. “You know, Lant,” he called, “if I didn’t have my responsibilities elsewhere, I might almost be willing to settle down here. This is