“It’s nothing, really. It’s just that, well, passing through an electrical storm can subject the ship to a lot of fluctuating electric fields forming between the earth and the clouds, which could, momentarily, disrupt our electrical systems.”
Ghanima swallowed. “But on this ship, all of the systems are electrical systems.”
“Yeah. They are.”
“Regulations say we should make an emergency landing in the event of catastrophic weather conditions. So, do you think we should land?”
“No,” Taziri said quickly. “We stay up here. We’re insulated against a direct lightning strike, and there are fewer pointy rocks in the sky than on the ground. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“We could lose both engines and drift into a mountain, or the gas bag could split open and ignite. Early retirement.”
“Instant retirement.”
“Whatever. Hopefully this storm won’t last very long.”
The minutes ticked by and the view remained an unhelpful blur of dark shapes, and soon fat drops of rain began thumping and tapping on the gas bag overhead, and then it splashed the windows around them as the gusting wind began hurling the downpour sideways. The clear splatters and streaks on the glass made the cloudy view of the outside world bubble and twist and run.
“This reminds me of those late nights heading in to Carthage during the rainy season,” Taziri said softly. “Isoke and I would argue about music to take our minds off it. I don’t remember when we started doing that.”
Ghanima smiled. “You two argue? I was starting to think she could do no wrong in your eyes, the way you talk about her.”
“She’s a great captain, a great woman, but she has the worst taste in music of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s obsessed with all the new love songs, and she doesn’t know any of the classic-”
The flood lights below their feet flickered out, followed by a sudden silence from the port-side propeller. Ghanima tapped her foot lightly on the pedal. “I’m not feeling great about our decision to fly through this storm.”
“Neither am I, but flying through a storm still beats landing in a storm, in the mountains, at night. Don’t worry. The motor will come back in a minute.”
The Halcyon continued to float above the Atlas peaks, and while the view revealed nothing, they could feel the airship shivering and shuddering as the wind pushed them farther and farther to port. Then the port engine suddenly droned back to life and the ship once again felt solid and sure-footed in the sky. “That’s a little better.”
The flood lights flickered back to life as well and a jagged wall of weeping mountain rock appeared, filling the windows to their left only a few dozen yards away. Ghanima jerked the controls and the airship bore hard to starboard, nosing straight into the easterly wind, and for a moment the Halcyon merely drifted in space beside the cliff face. For the longest seven seconds of her life, Taziri listened to her blood roaring through her ears, felt her arms almost weightless with adrenaline, and shivered as a cold sweat trickled down her back. She pictured her daughter’s face, the soft bump of her chin, the soft bounce of her hair, the bright… her name, what’s her name? I can’t remember her…Menna! She blinked at the darkness, trying not to cry out. Then, slowly but surely, Halcyon crept away from the mountain, swimming upwind as the rain drummed louder and faster on the gas bag overhead.
“Not to worry.” Ghanima tried to smile. “We’re still on the right side of the horizon.”
She barely had time to look at the view ahead when the soft humming from Taziri’s control board dropped half an octave and several decibels. “What was that? Did we just lose something?” She squinted around the cockpit.
“Yeah, the heater. Looks like the coil burned out a connection.” Taziri motioned at a tiny yellow light on her board. “I can’t fix that until we’re on the ground.”
“You have an electric heater?”
“Of course,” she said. “I turned it on just after sunset, like always. Never had a problem with it before, not in four years. It’s all right. The motors should actually run a little better if it’s a few degrees cooler back there.”
“It’s not the motors I was worried about.” Ghanima took her hand off the stick long enough to blow a warm breath over her fingers.
Then the cabin lights died again.
Taziri laughed.
“This isn’t funny.”
“You’re right.” She continued chuckling. “But it’s pretty ridiculous.”
“Wait, there! I see it!” Ghanima pointed at the dark window in front of her. “Wait…there it is again! That’s the beacon light at the southern edge of the Lower City. See? A blue-white light on a three-second interval. We’re on course!”
“Yeah, good work.” Taziri peered into the gloom. “I can’t see it, but I believe you. Is it far? It must be. And with this crosswind, we’re not going to get there any time soon.”
The flood lights cut out again.
Ghanima laughed. Even as she shivered in her cold seat in the pitch-black cockpit, she laughed, and Taziri laughed with her.
“Okay, can I at least get a light on the compass dome here for a minute?” She tapped the glass in question.
“Sure.” Taziri’s search through the tool rack was noisy but brief. “Here it is.” In the darkness, a small disc of soft yellow light appeared at the end of the flashlight, a heavy tube containing a conventional battery that could be relied upon for almost ten minutes of use in its entire lifetime. The light shuddered, faded, and vanished. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She banged the side of the light. “It’s dead.”
“So that’s it? We’re out of options? The only thing still working are the motors, and they could cut out at any moment. And we can’t see outside, so we could be flying into a mountain any moment now.”
A bolt of lightning lanced down through the darkness ahead to starboard and in that instant the stark topography of the mountain range was burned into the aviators’ eyes, left to hover in their vision as a discolored after-image as they blinked and squinted in the swallowing dark. Thunder roared through the cabin in waves and the drumming of the rain quickened.
“Well, good.” Ghanima nodded. “No mountains dead ahead. At the moment. Did you see anything out there?”
“No.”
“There you go, then.” She heaved a deep sigh. “We’re fine.”
Chapter 37. Syfax
Syfax sat listening to the rain pattering lightly on the train’s thin metal roof. It came in gusts, sometimes softly and sometimes violently, but never for very long. The irregular winds in the deep canyons hurled much of the weather into the rock walls, and through his window the major could see the rainwater streaming down the cliff faces in bright, shining lines.
Through the curtains of rain and occasional gusts of steam from the engine, he could still discern the shape of Kenan’s head through the windows. He had not moved except once to look back after the armed men had passed him by. Syfax was about to ask a steward how much longer before they reached the Lower City when the clear outline of the corporal’s hand appeared in the front window.
Time to be elsewhere.
With his coat still reversed, he stood and moved to the back of the compartment and crossed into the next car. It was identical to the one he had just left and he continued through it with only two quick glances back over his shoulder. Through the night-shrouded spaces between the cars, he saw the two large guards ambling down the aisle toward him.
Maybe they told Chaou what I look like. Maybe Chaou sent them back for me. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
