The Flying Sorcerers

A group of boys stood down near the unused end of the trough, cheering the balloons and giggling hysterically.

Some were rolling in the blackgrass, others were peering into the bubbling water. Trone’s generator wires led into the water right at that point, and apparently the boys liked to watch it bubble.

They had been gathering at this point for some days now, ever since Purple had begun filling his airbags.

I began to wonder about this. Curious, I approached that end of the trough and observed. The water was bubbling furiously as the gas rose from the wires. The young men would put their faces near it and inhale deeply, then fall back among their fellows and giggle happily.

Their behavior was much like that of one who was drunk on Quaff — but that was silly. These boys were still unconsecrated and not allowed to drink Quaff.

But then, what was producing this strange effect?

I pushed my way through them and asked, “What’s going on here?”

They shook their heads shamefacedly, but would not say.

I bent over and sniffed at the bubbling waters, but I could smell nothing. Curious, that. I took another sniff. Still nothing. It was interesting though. I took another sniff, a deep one — I felt just a wee bit light-headed.

I took another sniff — was it possible that this gas made people light-headed? I wondered about that. The other gas made things light — this gas made people light. No, I’d have to think about that. I took another sniff. The other gas made things rise above other things. This new gas made people’s view of things rise above other things.

Another sniff — how strange! I knew what I meant. Why weren’t there words for it? I lowered my head again.

Abruptly I was being pulled away by Shoogar, “Lant, Lant — what is the matter with you?”

“Um — ah, oh — hi, Shoogar —”

He dragged me downwind of the bubbling water. “What are you doing?”

“Um, I was investigating the bubbles.”

“You will turn into a bubblehead — like those wastrels! He gestured at the boys once again gathered around the trench. “They talk about the strange gas that makes them light.”

“I didn’t know you’d investigated it, Shoogar.” I was beginning to feel heavy again. “Is it dangerous?”

“Of course it is — if only because it teaches the young to enjoy themselves.”

“Something should be done.” I said.

“Right Shoogar fumbled in his sleeve. “I’ll toss a ball of fire at them.” He reached and pulled and — Fwoof! It went off in his hand, burning and sizzling faster than I’d ever seen.

Shoogar yelped and plunged his hand into a water pot. He shouted, “See? I told you the bubbles were dangerous!”