considered it, he thought he understood why. Only the Dragon Lords knew what it was like to soar through the upper air of Gaeia. No one in history had ever climbed into a wicker chariot drawn by elementals and headed for the sky before. By doing this Asea would be writing her name in the history books yet again, and adding to her own legend. Did she crave fame so much that she was willing to risk her life for it, he wondered? Or did she have some other motive. She smiled at him.
'On Al’Terra we rode the skies on great ships. There is not sufficient magical energy in this world to allow that, but this — this is a way to give us back the sky again, if it works. I have seen great schools of magic develop over the centuries from the simplest of experiments. Perhaps this will be the beginning of something new. Perhaps someday centuries hence, there will be flying engines once more. Ones that do not need the old magic to keep them aloft. And if that happens I will be able to fly in them.'
He responded to the excitement in her voice. The idea began to grip his imagination and do battle with his fear. Another thought struck him. 'How do we get down?'
Benjario said: 'We slowly kill the supply of hot air to the balloon. It will bring us back to the ground.'
'Won't we fall?'
'No. The hot air will dissipate gently and we will be wafted back towards the ground. Shall we go, Milady? The day is getting no younger. And we must get aloft when conditions are propitious.'
Asea nodded. Benjario opened a small gate in the side of the wicker basket to allow them to board and then tied it closed again. Once inside he ignited the athenor and twisted a knob to feed it the trapped elemental gas. A strange sickly smell filled the air and made Rik quite light headed. A jet of flame, like dragon's breath, belched forth. The crowd shrieked and drew back, at once appalled and thrilled.
Servants held the mouth of the balloon open and Rik could see that it was indeed slowly starting to fill up, like a paper sack into which someone breathed. He only hoped it would not pop with a bang. Slowly the balloon began to stand erect as hot air filled it.
'Reminds me of something,' the Barbarian bellowed from nearby. 'Although it’s not quite big enough.'
The crowd jeered and groaned.
'He was talking about his head,' shouted Weasel. 'It's just as swollen and just as empty.'
'Everyone is a jester,' muttered Benjario. 'Benjario is about to make history and they make a joke. Well soon we shall see who the joke is upon. '
Rik's stomach lurched as the basket trembled and shifted and the balloon bobbed skywards. He looked at Asea; she surveyed the crowd with a calm look upon her face, but her eyes looked huge and her nostrils flared. By the Light, Rik thought, this thing might just work.
He looked up. The balloon was impossibly huge above them, swollen with hot air, the fabric rippling slightly in the wind. What if it ripped, he wondered, but was afraid to ask. Benjario must have thought about that too, he told himself, and if he hadn't Asea would have.
'Let go of the ropes,' Benjario shouted, lifting his wide-brimmed hat with a showman's flourish. The brawny servants holding the ropes anchoring the balloon let go. Some of them stumbled and fell. More of the crowd shrieked. The balloon lifted off. The basket followed it. Before he had quite realised it, with a sensation something akin to being in a dream, Rik was airborne. He could see people looking up at him. Some waved, some stood open mouthed. Weasel and the Barbarian made obscene gestures and roared their enthusiasm. The basket lurched again, and so did Rik's stomach. He knew there was now just a thin layer of woven straw beneath his feet. He measured the distance. They were only about ten feet in the air. He could still jump if he wanted to. Their height doubled. He noticed they were moving, blown by the wind. The crowd rolled by beneath them even as the ground dropped away.
They were as high as a bridgeback's head now. Rik knew this exactly since they had just passed one. The massive creature stared at them in seeming astonishment, then opened its mouth in a great bellow. Asea's laughter held as much excitement as merriment. Benjario waved his hat at the thing as if shooing away an inquisitive dog. Rik held the side of the basket and wondered at his fear and excitement.
He had a head for heights. No one could be a successful burglar in Sorrow without one. He had fled over the roofs of tenements while armed guards pursued him and slates broke off and slid away under his feet. He had leapt the distance between two buildings over alleys where the drop would have killed him if he had missed his step. He had hung from his sweat slippery fingers from windowsills while the householders prowled inside. Nothing had ever made his heart race the way this did. He tried to work out why, concentrating on the sensations of flight as he did so.
He could feel hot air rising from the athenor behind him, even as the cold breeze stroked his cheeks and stirred his hair. The prickly wickerwork bit into his fingers where he clutched it, and the whole basket swayed gently in motion. He could hear the crackle of flame and the shifting fabric of the balloon.
Perhaps it was the novelty of the sensation, he thought, or perhaps it was that so much could go wrong. Whatever else had happened the buildings had always been solid beneath his feet — even if he fell, they would still be there. On the balloon there was the appalling sensation of having nothing beneath him but empty air. If the ropes gave way or the floating mountain of fabric above them caught fire, they would fall to their deaths. He did some swift calculations. If the wicker basket looked as if it was about to fall he would leap up and grab the ropes. Perhaps he could hold onto them for long enough to let the balloon reach the earth again. That would be a slim chance, he thought, and then it struck him exactly what was wrong.
His fate was out of his hands. There was almost nothing he could do if something went wrong. He could not save himself by skill, or speed of reflex or by main strength. Up here he was entirely in the hands of God. It was not a sensation he enjoyed, but there was no way he could alter the facts. As that struck him, he began to relax slightly and pay more attention to what lay below them.
They were high up now. People were tiny and the outlines of fields were visible. Trees looked small and strange seen from this odd angle. Ahead of them lay the spires and rooftops of the town. Asea pointed out the Temple and Parliament Square and the Royal Palace. He could see the layout of the Imperial City as clearly as on a map, the great radial roads that ran like the spokes of a great wheel from Parliament Square to the gates, and the buildings that lined them. This city had been built to a plan, and it was an awesome one.
He saw the river running south from the western docks. He felt that if they got high enough he could follow its progress all the way to the Sea of Dragons. As it was, the gigantic trading barges and the great wyrms that towed them looked like child’s toys in the distance.
People looked up as they passed overhead. Some of them waved. Some of them ran indoors as if they had seen a huge demon pass by and were afraid it would swoop down and devour them. A few soldiers even raised their rifles and appeared about to take a shot at them.
'Idiots! Idiots! Idiots!' cursed Benjario, turning the knob and feeding the fire elemental more marsh gas.
As they did so Asea muttered a charm. Rik felt a tingling sensation pass over him. Whether because of the range or Asea's magic the shooters missed. Rik was glad that Weasel was not among the marksmen firing at them. He would have put a hole in the balloon.
Soon they were so high that was no longer a problem. The town stretched below them. Now the streets were filled as they passed overhead, and Rik thought he heard the shrieks and shouts of the crowds, all blending together like the roar of the sea or water passing over a fall.
'…artillery spotting,' he heard Benjario say, and it hit him then that this was not entirely a pleasure vehicle they were riding in, whatever Asea might claim. It could be used to spot for armies and artillery batteries and draw maps of the insides of cities under siege. The alchemist looked almost demonic, so filled with triumph was he. A lifetime's work was being vindicated. Asea looked scarcely less thrilled.
Of course, he thought, there were weaknesses in the scheme. The balloons would be vulnerable to sorcery and dragons. There appeared to be no way you could control their flight, although he supposed they could be anchored with ropes. Of course, they could be used in the winter when dragons were dormant and most likely they could be protected from magic by wards. But who fought wars in the winter? As far as Rik could tell their utility would be limited.
They kept rising and Rik noticed it was getting colder. He moved closer to the athenor to get some heat, and then looked back. Wisps of cloud surrounded them now and he could see nothing. Water condensed on his face.
'I think we should go down now,' he heard Asea say, although she was now just a ghostly outline in the
