The Flying Sorcerers

Purple had odd ways of speaking — even odder ways of doing things — but if we gave him the chance, his ways worked.

He proved it time and time again.

For instance, he had figured out a way to keep Gortik from crashing his bicycle into trees. He had suggested that Wilville and Orbur add a pair of smaller wheels to it, one on each side of the rear wheel. It kept the machine from falling over.

Gortik was so grateful at finally being able to ride his bicycle that he allowed Wilville and Orbur to trade their other machines in the Lower Village — but only if they did not have “Gortik wheels” on them. He wanted to be the only one with a “crashproof” bicycle.

Wilville and Orbur were pleased at this turn of events. They had figured out a put-it-together line of their own — with only four apprentices they might be able to build as many as two bicycles per hand of days. They were eager to try it out as soon as they finished the flying machine.

At the moment, however, they had more than they could handle building spell devices for Purple.

For instance, he wanted bagholders — great frameworks to hold the aircloth bags over the bubbling pots of water. Thus he would trap the gas as it rose from his hydrogen wires.

Bellis the Potter had been asked to make great funneled pots for these frameworks, and had already finished the first one. In addition to the opening at the top through which the water would be added, it had two long spouts reaching up from either side. One was narrow and delicate; the gas-making wires were set so that the hydrogen gas would rise up through this spout. The other gas would bubble away harmlessly through the other spout which was wide and stubby.

An airbag — completely empty — would be hung on the framework over the pot and its mouth would be attached to the proper spout. When the wire was attached to the battery, Purple hoped the bag would fill with hydrogen.

But none of the airbags had yet been sewn together, only two of the frameworks for holding them had been built, and only one of the water pots had been finished. Bellis the Potter was being recalcitrant.

Originally he had been delighted at Purple’s request for great amounts of pottery — but he was not delighted at Purple’s suggestion that he use women to help make the pots. Not for gathering clay, he said, not for turning his wheel; not for polishing the finished pots, and not for cleaning his tools — not for nothing! No women, he insisted. Women were for breeding — and that was all they were for.

Purple said that it had already been proven that women could do such simple labors as spinning and gathering.

Bellis shook his head. “Spinning does not require much thought. Pottery does.”

“H’m, that’s what Lesta said. Only he said it was pottery that did not require much thought.”

“Lesta is an old fuzzwort. There will be no women working on my pots —”

“Is that your final word, Bellis?”

“It is.”

“Oh, dear. I had hoped you wouldn’t say that. Ah, it’s just as well. I have already sent for some potters from the other villages. They have said that they are willing to work with women. I guess I will have to deal with them. I will be seeing you —”

“Wait!” said Bellis. “Maybe it is possible. We will have to try it and see.”

In other words, everybody wanted to work with Purple now — even if it meant changing one’s way of working.

And something else: just as we were learning from Purple, it had become obvious, just from listening to him bargain, that he had learned something from us as well.