Save it for later. I've got the second piece. Now we have to get off into the trees. We're invisible from just this one side.'
She got to her feet and stood stiffly erect.
'It was not a nice trick,' she said, 'and you won't catch me that way again.'
'I'll bear that in mind,' he stated. 'Now let's head back that way.'
She glanced at the ship in the sky, nodded and turned. Moonbird shifted his great bulk and edged slowly after her.
As he retreated, Pol slowed the swirling motion, withdrew his energies, released the spell. The trees covered them adequately now. It seemed that they had escaped from immediate danger.
Pol seated himself beneath a tree, hands clasped under his chin.
'What now?' Nora finally asked him.
'I am wondering whether I might be able to bring that thing down, as I did that lesser one at the pyramid. Now that I have two of the sections together, it seems possible.'
'It sounds worth trying.'
'I am going to wait until its course brings it nearer. Distance does seem to be a factor.'
For over a quarter of an hour, he watched the vessel, attaching strand after gray metallic strand to the rod that he held. Finally, when the ship swept by them again, he felt ready.
He raised the instrument and stared past it through gaps among the branches, amid the leaves, saw the strands grow taut, imagined that he could hear them singing as if caressed by some cosmic wind. The rod grew warm in his hand as he felt the energies flow forth.
For a time, nothing seemed to happen. Then they heard a cough and a rattle, followed by a sputtering noise. Two of the ship's rotors began to slow. It listed to starboard as a third propeller went out. Immediately, it began to descend, and Pol guessed that this was an action of the pilot's in trying to avoid a crash, rather than an indication that it might not remain airborne a while longer. His knuckles grew white as he gripped the rod, willing more force into his spell. More rattling and coughing noises came from the sinking vessel. A thin wisp of smoke arose from beneath the cowling at its forward end. Two more rotors halted, but by now it was only fifteen or twenty meters above the ground, near to the western perimeter of the labyrinth.
It dropped only a short distance, moments later, and a hatch at its rear fell open. Three men hurried out and another followed more slowly, coughing. Pol saw a darting of flames within and more moving forms beating at and attempting to smother them. He lowered the rod and extended his hand to Nora,
'Let's get out of here,' he said. 'I've burned out several engines. They won't be able to follow.'
They clambered up onto Moonbird's back.
Now! Hurry! Take us away!
We can finish them off first.
They are helpless now. Get us aloft!
Moonbird began a waddling run beneath the trees, fanning the air with his wings. When he broke into the cleared area, he lifted above the ground. A cry came up from somewhere to the right.
Pol saw the three men who had fled the smoldering battle-wagon. They were kneeling and had raised their weapons. White puffs emerged from the muzzles, and he immediately felt a burning pain in the back of his neck and slumped across Moonbird's shoulder. He heard Nora cry out and felt her catching at his shirt, his belt. His head swirled through dark places, but he did not immediately lose consciousness, A distant booming sound came to his ears. His neck was wet.
We should have finished them first... Moonbird was saying.
Nora was talking as she did something behind him, but he could not hear the words.
Then his eyes closed and everything diminished.
When the world came back, her hand was on his neck, holding a cold compress in place. He smelled the sea. He felt the play of muscles beneath the scales against which his cheek was pressed. Moonbird smelled a bit like old leather, gunpowder and lemon juice, he suddenly realized. Somehow the thought struck him as funny and he chuckled.
'You're awake?' said Nora.
'Yes. How serious is it?'
'It looks as if someone laid a hot poker across your neck and held it there for a time.'
'That's about how it feels, too. What's on it?'
'A piece of cloth I soaked in water.'
'Thanks. It helps.'
'Do you know a spell to heal it?'
'Not offhand. But I may be able to think of something. Tell me first what happened, though.'
'You were hit by something. I think it might have come from one of those smoking sticks the men were pointing.'
'Yes, it did. But what was the crashing noise? Did their ship explode?'
'No. It had larger--things--like those pointed by the men. These turned to follow us, then they began smoking and making the noise. Several things seemed to explode near us. Then it stopped.'
Pol propped himself and looked back. It hurt to turn his head. The island was already receding in the distance, its outline vaguely misted. He looked down at the sea, up toward the sun.
Moonbird, are you all right?
Yes. And you?
I'll be okay. But we seem to be heading, northwest, rather than southwest. Maybe I'm wrong, though. You are the expert.
You are not wrong.
'Let me tie that in place for you.'
'Go ahead.'
Why? What is the matter?
The place you wish to visit next--it lies a great distance from here, many day's travel.
Yes, I know. That is why it is important that we follow the route I have laid out. Many island stopovers will be necessary.
Not really. Maps mean less to me than my feelings. I realized recently there is a shortcut.
How can that be? The shortest distance between two points is a--a great circle segment.
I will take us the way of the dragons.
The way of the dragons? What do you mean?
I have been that way before. Between some places there are special routes. Holes in the air, we call them. They move about, slowly. The closest one to a place near where you would go now lies in this direction.
Holes in the air? What are they like?
Uncomfortable. But I know the way.
Anything that is uncomfortable to a dragon might prove fatal to anyone else.
I have borne your father through them.
They are much faster?
Yes.
All right. Go ahead.
How far is it?
I may get us there by evening.
Is there a place before that where we can stop for repairs?
Several.
Good.
The sun hung low and red before them. To the right, a fuzzy line of coast darkened the horizon like a rough brush stroke. Mounds and streamers of pink and orange clouds filled the sky to the left and ahead. Moonbird was climbing and the wind seemed to grow colder with each beat of his wings. Pol stared upward and rubbed his eyes, for his vision had suddenly blurred.
The blur remained. He moved his head and it stayed in the same place.
Moonbird... ?
