The Flying Sorcerers

When it happened, it happened in broad double daylight. Red sunlight and blue lit the sky. The windbags glowed like moons; one side red, the other blue.

There was always a crowd on the Crag now, and Purple had posted men to keep them back. Mongers moved among the people, trading sweetdrops and spicy meats for small tokens.

Wilville and Orbur were just storing the last of Purple’s supplies. Each packet had been wrapped in aircloth to protect it from the wet and cold Purple said they would find in the upper sky.

I stood below, leaning on one of the taut ropes that led from the boat to the ground.

Purple was up on the landing cradle with three large pots of water. He had his battery connected to one of them, and a neck of cloth hung down from one of the balloons. It was tied tightly to the water-pot funnel, and as we watched, this last giant sphere swelled and tightened.

Abruptly one of the mooring ropes parted. One end of the boat swung upward.

There was an “Oooooo!” from the crowd.

Purple jumped back in surprise, knocking over one of the water pots. Wilville and Orbur had been thrown to the floor of the boat — they stuck their heads up confusedly.

“The other end! The other end!” Purple was shouting and pointing, “Go stand at the other end!” He pointed to the nose of the boat which was aimed eagerly at the sky.

Wilville and Orbur scrambled quickly up the boat. As they did so, that part of it started to settle. Purple began directing men to secure it with new mooring ropes. He bent to disconnect his battery, and hurriedly began tying off the neck of his balloon.

And then Shoogar arrived, leading an excited team of men, bringing with them the twelfth giant windbag. He caught sight of the eager airboat and cried, “Purple, Purple — don’t leave without your balloon!”

The murmur of the crowd rose behind him — a gabble of voices and conflicting opinions. “Shut up, Shoogar — if he wants to leave without it, let him!”

Wilville was leaning out over the edge, pointing and waving at the men with the balloon — “No, no! That’s the wrong rope — don’t attach it there!” They couldn’t hear him.

“Wilville! Orbur!” I cried. “Get out of the boat!”

But Purple was crying, “Stay in the boat! Stay in the boat!” He jumped off the landing cradle and ran over to where Shoogar and the others were trying to attach the windbag. “Not here, you slithy tove!” He began pulling them around to the other side — “This is the rope, here!”

For a moment I thought they were going to lose it — the bag was as eager as the rest to leap into the sky. Thank the Gods for the anchor ropes. If we lost a balloon, we would lose many days of work. The anchor ropes prevented that. The balloons could not escape their tethers. If we let go of one, it would only snap upward until we could pull it down again.

Under Purple’s direction the men were able to fasten the bag to the proper rope without losing it. It snapped upward, and the rope strained as taut as the others.

This last windbag seemed to do it. The boat hung upward at the end of its mooring ropes. The chatter of excited voices rose.

“Ballast!” Purple was crying. “Get the ballast bags.”

“I’ll do it!” cried Orbur and started to climb out of the boat.

“No!” Purple swarmed up the cradle and pushed him back in — he fell to the deck slats with a thump “You stay in the boat! We need your weight to help hold it down.”

Shoogar was bouncing around the base of the launching cradle, barking at the men struggling to tie more mooring ropes. Heavy wooden stakes were being pounded into the ground.

Other men came running across the slope — each carrying two heavy ballast bags with him. They swung ominously back and forth. Trone the Coppersmith brought four.

The ballast bags were also made of aircloth, and filled with sand. Purple had realized their need only a hand of days ago, and Grimm had had to hurry to sew them up. Trone had taken the responsibility of seeing that they were filled.

Now the men came jumping up onto the cradle and practically threw the bags at Wilville and Orbur — Orbur slipped under their weight and disappeared again into the bottom of the boat. There was a muffled curse.

The bags had been finished and waiting since this morning. Purple said they were needed to provide extra weight that was expendable as the gas leaked out. A thought occurred to me — why hadn’t he put them in the boat as they were finished, instead of waiting till the last moment like this. It certainly would have been easier.

“More bags! More bags!” He was calling. The men took off again, dashing to get another load. Wilville and Orbur staggered to stow them evenly.

Purple then jumped into the boat to help. He grabbed the ballast bags as each one was brought up, and directed their distribution about the craft.

I jumped up on the cradle. “Purple,” I screamed over the noise of the crowd and the ballast runners. “It has been a great honor to have you here — we will miss you greatly — your memory will never be forgotten — we wish you the speediest of journeys —”

“Shut up, Lant — you blithering wart! “I’m not going anywhere. I’m only going on a test flight! That’s why we only need twelve balloons for now. We’ll need the other four for the longer journey, but right now we only want to see how well she handles in case we have to make any modifications —”

“Don’t forget the sails! The sails!” Shoogar came screaming up. His arms were laden with great folds of cloth, and he was followed by two apprentices, also laden with cloth.

“Yes,” said Purple. “We can use them as ballast — Shoogar, what are you doing?!!”

Shoogar paused. He was climbing into the boat. “What does it look like I am doing?’”

“It looks like you’re getting into the boat —”

“That’s right, I am. You cannot take from me the honor of the first flight.”

“Honor?!! Shoogar, this might be very dangerous —”

“It will be even more dangerous if you don’t take the sails — you will have no ways to move through the air.” His assistants began handing them over the sides to him.

Purple shrugged. He grabbed one last sandbag from Trone. Did the airboat seem to sag? Had the mooring ropes slackened momentarily? “All right, Shoogar,” he said. “You can come. I guess I do owe you a ride in my flying machine.”

“Our flying machine,” corrected Shoogar.

“All right,” sighed Purple. He climbed up a rope ladder to get a better view. Trone!” he called. The coppersmith looked up. “Be sure that you and the rest of the flight crew pump up the other four balloons! We will be needing them. And organize that ground crew that I told you about — we will need them when we return!”

Trone waved and grinned. “Don’t worry, Purple.”

Purple waved back. He climbed higher up the rope ladder and began checking the rigging of the balloons. “Wilville,” I whispered loudly, “be careful! Do not let the magicians kill each other!”

“Father,” he called back, wide-eyed, “do not let the magicians kill us!”

“Don’t worry — they won’t. They need you to pedal the bicycles and turn the airpushers. Just be careful — don’t fall off.”

“We won’t — we are going to tie safety ropes around our necks.”

“Try your waists,” I suggested. “It’ll be even safer. Good luck with the sails.”

He groaned. “We’ll need it. Shoogar will not be convinced — he is sure we will need sails.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

Wilville shook his head. “Purple’s first flying machine didn’t have sails. I think he knows what he’s talking about. So does Orbur —”

We were interrupted by a voice from above. Purple had completed his check of the rigging and he was calling, “All right, cast loose! Cast loose the ropes!”

“Huh? What? Talk like a man, Purple! Not your demon language!”

He screamed, “Cut the ropes, curse you!”

I paled and grabbed for a knife.

Try to cut them all at once!” he shouted.

I started hacking at the first of the mooring ropes. Both Shoogar and Purple were yelling at me from above. As soon as I cut it, that side of the boat leapt upward, throwing it into a violent slant. Purple and Shoogar screamed excitedly, “The other side! Cut the ropes on the other side now!”

I ran around to the other side and cut a rope there, but then that side leapt upward. I ran back to the first side and cut another rope, but now the front of the airship was hanging lower than the back, and so I had to cut another and meanwhile all of them were screaming, Wilville and Orbur, Purple and Shoogar, Trone and the ballast crew, the roiling crowd — even Lesta, upset because the ropes had been bound from his finest cloth.

And then there was only one rope left — the airboat was pointed severely at the sky. I cut it and —

It leapt upward, and there was a great echoing cheer from the crowd. I collapsed on the cradle, rolled over on my back, and watched them shrink into the sky. I was glad that there had not been more ropes. I was panting heavily.

The sky was sparkling blue. The airboat was a slender shape, hanging under a cluster of swollen grapes. The crowd ooh’d and ah’d as it floated up and away from them.

It was not the first time I had seen a flying machine. But I felt a surge of pride as it rose into the sky — as if I had built it myself. It was so much lovelier than Purple’s black egg had been. And after all, hadn’t I helped to build it?

A white sail bloomed beneath one of the outriggers.

Then another.

Still the flying boat continued to rise. I thought I could hear voices floating back to me, tiny from the distance, but shrill with emotion: “We don’t need your guilty-of-incestuous-rape sails!”

“We do!”

“We don’t!”

“We do!”

But perhaps it was only the wind.