to come from within rather than from the running lights-or whatever one called them-attached to the hull. Maybe the windows represented a navigation chamber, similar to the one Books occupied. Except there had to be room for a whole crew behind them.
A wolf howled in the distance, and another responded from a different ridge. The nocturnal wildlife was probably wondering what sort of monstrosity had invaded the mountains.
A cone of red light shot out of the base of the craft. Akstyr jumped. The crimson light bathed the snowy landscape below the dome, then started moving slowly from side to side.
“Searching,” he mumbled.
Akstyr stretched out his senses again. No kerosene lantern could throw out a beam like that. This had to be something made from the Science. But again, he sensed nothing.
The only thing he knew for certain was that it was heading in their direction.
Akstyr scrambled toward the slope he had climbed up to reach the precipice. He had no idea what they could do-that dirigible didn’t even have weapons-but he had to warn Books.
Snow sloughed down the slope ahead of Akstyr as he half-ran, half-slid back to where a rope dangled from the hatchway at the bottom of the dirigible. His leg and shoulder sent stabs of pain shooting through him, but he ignored them. If that flying behemoth found them, he might have a lot more than minor wounds to trouble him. He figured it belonged to that Forge group, but he couldn’t help but wonder if his mother had been the one to tip them off to the team’s location as well. If so, his stupid plan might have dropped buckets of donkey piss all over the team, and there’d be no cleaning up that mess.
Akstyr leapt out of the snow and caught the rope. “Books!” he called up. “Books, are you there?”
He was almost to the top when a shadow fell across the rope. Books grabbed his arm and helped him inside the craft.
“I told you to simply signal with a flag that they were coming,” Books said. “I would have flown closer to pick you up.”
“We didn’t work out a signal for gia-gantuan flying machine bearing down on us.” Akstyr slammed the hatch shut, not worrying about the rope still dangling through it. He pushed past Books and grabbed the ladder. He would have rushed straight up to navigation by himself, but he had no idea how to fly the dirigible. “Are you coming?” he demanded.
Books hadn’t moved. “I… yes. I’m just stunned.”
“By the flying machine?”
“That and the fact that you think giant can legitimately be combined with gargantuan to form a word.” Books collected himself and waved for Akstyr to continue up the ladder.
“Cut out that light, will you?” Akstyr pointed at a lantern on the wall. “Maybe if we go completely dark and stay in this little nook they won’t be able to see us.”
Books blew out the lamp and rushed to navigation, while Akstyr ran through the corridor and the cargo room, turning off every lamp he found. The engine pulsed softly in its room, throwing alternating light and shadows against the walls. Akstyr thought about tossing a blanket over it, but there weren’t any windows or portholes in that cabin, so he simply shut the door and let it be.
By the time he stumbled into the navigation cabin, Books had darkened it as well and had his nose pressed to the bank of windows. Fortunately, none of the gauges or panels in front of Books glowed or blinked-as far as Akstyr could tell their engine was the only Science-based mechanism in the dirigible, and nothing else was likely to glow sporadically. Unfortunately, they were still hanging from a giant beige balloon that would stand out against the snow and craggy lines of the mountains.
“I see it,” Books said. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, but can you really disagree that it’s gia-gantuan?”
“Now is not the time for jokes.”
“Who’s joking?” Akstyr leaned closer to the window, trying to see the details of the valley beneath them. “Can you take us lower? So that we’re right above the snow? Maybe we’ll blend in.”
“Maybe we’ll blend in?” Books frowned over his shoulder. “We’re mounted under an enormous balloon. It’s not white, so unless you want to get climb out and shovel snow on top of it, we’re not going to blend in. Besides, that… that… thing has a light beam shooting out of it. It must be magic. Won’t they just sense us out there?”
“It’s not Science-based.”
“What?” Books leaned so close to the window that he bumped his nose. “You must be wrong. There’s no mundane technology in the world that could put something like that into the air.”
“I’d be able to sense it if it were a construct.”
“They must be cloaking themselves from you somehow.”
“Whatever,” Akstyr said. It was impossible talking Science with people that hadn’t studied it at all.
“Whatever it is, that beam is searching systematically, like it expects us to be here.” Books’s words came out in a tumble. He was scarcely taking time to breathe.
Akstyr had seen Books get nervous before, and he wasn’t much use when he was like that. Amaranthe could always get him to calm down, but Akstyr didn’t think he could have the same effect. Nobody on the streets had ever told him he was reassuring.
“All our lights are off, and… maybe I can do something to help camouflage us.” Akstyr didn’t say the latter with a lot of conviction. He had studied illusions, sure, and he could do a few tricks, the sorts of things that might impress dumb guards on a train, but could he hide the entire dirigible?
“They’re getting closer.” Books’s gaze was riveted to the window, his hands gripping the console, his shoulders hunched and tense. The craft was higher than the dirigible, and Akstyr couldn’t see it from his spot behind Books, but the red search beam came into view, sweeping left and right, probing the snow with its telling light. “If we try to leave now, they’ll see us,” Books said. “But we’re too close to the pass too. If they keep coming toward it, they’re sure to see us anyway.”
“Not if we hide,” Akstyr said.
Books was only shaking his head. He didn’t seem to hear.
“If you don’t lower us deeper into this little canyon-” Akstyr rapped his knuckles on the control panel, “-I will.”
That broke through Books’s worried trance.
“Dear departed ancestors, no.” Books plopped down into the seat. “I’ll do it.” His voice lowered to a mutter. “If I can find the cursed levers in the dark.”
Akstyr allowed himself a tight smile. If he couldn’t be reassuring, threatening was an option.
The dirigible engine offered a smooth ride, and Akstyr might not have noticed they were descending except that the scenery outside the windows changed. The view of distant mountains disappeared, replaced with nearby cliffs and snowy slopes.
Akstyr sat cross-legged on the floor. He wished he had more time to think about how to go about manufacturing the illusion. He’d seen the terrain around the dirigible when he’d been up on the precipice, but he hadn’t thought to memorize it and think about how best he could add a piece to it-a piece that would make it appear like someone was looking at an empty canyon instead of a ship tucked in a nook. The artistry required daunted him. Even if he could pull it off, he would have to hope nobody over there was a practitioner, someone who could see right through such guises.
A few fat snowflakes blew across the windshield. Maybe a blizzard would roll in, forcing the other ship to abandon its search. That gave Akstyr an idea.
“This is as low as I dare get,” Books said.
A long squeal of metal assaulted their ears, and a jolt coursed through the dirigible.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have dared to get that low.” Akstyr thought the metal hull of the lower part of the craft could stand up to a few scrapes, but he was less certain about the balloon. He didn’t know what it was made from, but he assumed the material could tear.
“It’s difficult to steer a vessel this large in the dark,” Books said. “Especially when my control panel is also in the dark.”
“Just hold us here.” Akstyr closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.
“Obviously,” Books grumbled, then raised his voice and added, “They’re getting closer, so anything you’re thinking of doing should be soon.”
