This is a fan translation of Cold Shores (Холодные берега) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Sergei Lukyanenko. The novel is the first in the Seekers of the Sky (Искатели неба) duology.
Chapter 4
In Which Helen Does the Impossible, but I Don't Realize It Right Away
To the north of Lyon, next to abandoned garrison barracks that had once stood on the outskirts of the city, stretched an airfield. Not the largest or the most modern, as Helen said, but I was impressed. Forget that narrow strip on a cliff built on the Isles of Sorrow. Here everything turned out to be surrounded by a strong wooden fence with dogs barking nervously inside it, there were maybe twenty hangars, and the airstrips had been paved with stone so well that they could've rivaled the square in front of the Louvre.
"Are you sure they'll let me through?" I asked quietly when the coach stopped in front of the gate. The entrance was guarded by praetorians, not the Guard, which calmed me a little, but still…
"Don't forget who I am," Helen told me.
While I was paying the coachman, the flyer had walked up to the soldiers. Yeah, based on their lively faces and the casual conversation, even the lowest ranks knew the Night Witch… and even a brief conversation with her was something to be proud of to them. Once again, just like then on the Isles, I felt awkward. Helen was no longer a woman I'd spent the night with or a haughty aristocrat possessing the skill of flight. She was a living legend. There weren't many female flyers as it was, but only Helen had managed to become famous among them.
"Let's go…" Hellen called me over. When I approached, she explained to the soldier in charge of the post, "I don't like to pose. But I'll have to."
Uh-huh. So that was how it was, I'd come to either paint or sculpt the flyer sitting in her glider… I wondered whether I was also supposed to sculpt the glider itself in such cases…
They let me through without a word, while the eyes of the guards showed curiosity on whether Helen was going to pose naked for me. That subject alone was probably enough for a day of conversation.
The soldiers were unlikely to assume that I could be her lover. The highborn were only supposed to love their peers.
"Convinced?" Helen asked after we walked away from them. I said nothing. "The machine should be prepared. We have to hurry before the rain picks up…"
To my eyes, the weather was already as bad as it could be. At the very least, no birds were flying. I had no idea how she was going to lift off in the glider… the fabric on the wings was lacquered, but it would still probably get wet, but the cabin that was wrapped in ordinary fabric would get heavy immediately…
"Do you have the same type of glider as before?"
"Almost. A little newer."
"It's going to get wet."
Helen glanced at the sky, as if noticing the storm clouds for the first time.
"The cloud cover is low. It's fine."
How was she going to fly? The storm clouds stretched to the horizon without a single clear spot. But I didn't argue. Helen was right, it wasn't my place to teach a woman to give birth or a flyer to fly…
We walked up to one of the buildings on wet soil. The door was also guarded, but here Helen simply gave them a friendly wave. We passed through a short corridor. People were sitting through the open doors, busy with some papers, two were calculating something on a huge machine with a tall soldier drearily turning the crank on command. Life was in full swing here, even though everyone had preferred to hide from the rain under the roof.
Helen stopped in front of one door. An elderly man in civilian clothing was sitting in a tiny room and drinking tea from a steaming mug. At the sight of the flyer, he smiled cheerfully and began to get up.
"Sit, Peter," Helen stopped him. "Write me a flight permit. And send the guys to prepare the glider."
The civilian glanced out the window and saw that it was pouring without pause. Then he hesitated, staring at Helen. She waited.
"Helen, dear—"
"Write, Peter."
The man stared at me, as if trying to find an ally. I put on a stony expression.
"Helen, it's a no-fly weather."
"Write."
Without looking away from her, the man took a lined sheet of paper from a thin stack and removed the cap from his stylus. He asked, "For now?"
"Yes. Urgent. House priority."
Peter wordlessly filled in several rows on the sheet, then handed it to Helen. I noticed that he'd entered the flyer's name, some numbers, probably the glider's number, and in the row with a large "Weather" printed on it, he'd placed a set of thick ones.
"Yes, yes, you old bureaucrat… I understand…" Helen said, bending over the table. She crossed out "Weather" and wrote "Under the flyer's responsibility", and in another row she put "Urbis, Rome". She turned over the sheet, which revealed some more writing and boxes that she quickly filled in with numbers. "Is that all?"
"Permission of the commandant, Helen," Peter said apologetically. "Sorry, I can't allow that myself…"
"Fine. But send the techs right away. And prepare the charts."
"The storm front is stretching all the way to Turin," Peter warned her.
"Understood. A full load, all right? And make sure that they install the new boosters, the ones with an enhanced charge. I'm going to go above the clouds."
"With a full load?"
"And with an enhanced charge. Write that down."
That was it. It seemed that Helen's authority, which had worked on the soldiers, was doing the same with Peter.
"Just get the commandant's permission—" he began plaintively.
"Of course. Let's go." The flyer took me by the hand again, and I obediently followed her, like a grown dumb son dragging behind his energetic mother.
We went up the stairs to the second floor. Helen kept shaking her head and muttering something in irritation.
"Something wrong?" I asked quietly.
"No, everything's fine. Peter disappointed me. The office work has not been good to him, and he used to be a real flyer once…"
"Is there no reason to panic?"
"There is. People don't fly in this weather. But we don't have a choice…"
There was another guard standing outside the commandant's office. Again, he let Helen through without question, although I was stopped. I waited patiently in the hallway, until the flyer peered out and beckoned me inside.
"Come on, the commandant wants to see you…"
For a moment, I had a crazy thought that as soon as I stepped over the threshold, a club was going to hit me over the head. If Helen suddenly decided to give me up…
But I didn't have a choice and entered.
The office was luxurious. Then again, based on the commandant's rank insignia—two silver birds in buttonholes—his rank was likely equivalent to an army colonel. The commandant was standing by the window, probably uncomfortable sitting in the presence of a lady without any extra chairs for her to sit on. People came to this office to stand ramrod straight and listen to orders.
"So that's what you look like…" the commandant began gloomily.
It seemed that my foreboding was coming true.
"How well do you know Ilmar?"
The problem with improvisation was that you never knew what stupid thing your partner had already said.
"Well, not bad, as much as it's possible…" I answered carefully.
The commandant was drilling me with his tense gaze. He looked a lot more like a flyer than the overweight and unwieldy Peter. At the same time, there was some kind of uncertainty in his eyes… a doubt… not so much towards me but to the situation as a whole.
"Are you sure you can make it?" he asked Helen. He began the question with the same menacing roar as when talking to me but finished it in a peaceful and friendly voice.
"It's all in God's hands."
The commandant chewed his thin lips. Ignoring me, he inquired, "Helen, my girl, are you sure this canvas scribbler is that important?"
"He is. There's nobody more important right now."
"But why Rome? There are fewer clouds to the north, just get him to Versailles…"
"The order was to escort him to Urbis. God's Stepson and the Possessor want to multiply Ilmar's portrait as fast as possible. And the printing houses in Urbis are a lot more sophisticated."
The commandant nodded, then glanced at me again. His gaze was still stern, but the voice softened a little, "Do you understand, painter, what honor has been shown to you? Helen, the Night Witch herself is going to take you to Urbis!"
"I understand…" I whispered.
"If you start panicking in the glider, just jump out yourself! If I find out that you caused Helen problems…"
The threat didn't faze me. What was the commandant's wrath compared to all of my other problems?
"Maybe they should tie him up, eh?" the commandant asked thoughtfully. "Then he'll definitely stay put… What do you think Helen?"
"I've already flown in a glider," I said and was rewarded for my initiative with the flyer's enraged glare.
"Really?" the commandant asked in amazement. "When?"
"I flew him," Helen explained casually. "A long time ago. Duchess Diana, the head of the House's Hungarian branch… she'd gone through all the decent painters in the State before stopping on a Russian portraitist… You remember that story…"
The commandant didn't remember anything of the sort, and his eyes became hazy and out of focus for a moment. But he didn't want to admit his forgetfulness.
"Yes, of course. Well then, that's good. But it's your responsibility, Helen."
Getting back to his desk, he quickly signed the permission form.
"Of course. I understand," the flyer nodded.
The commandant momentarily touched her hand with his lips in a polite, dispassionate kiss and gave her a protective smile.
"Good luck, Countess."
"I hope to make use of your hospitality in the future, Baron."
I understood. The commandant wasn't as noble. He was doing his best to both keep to his duty and to please the flyers higher than him.
Bowing low, I followed Helen out. After we walked away from the office, the flyer whispered, "You and your big mouth. He flew…"
"I just felt like saying it. Tell me, this baron, is he?.."
"No. He's afraid of heights. He always finds an excuse to avoid getting into a glider. But his strip is in order, the stores are full, the hangars are dry, the horses are handpicked, the discipline strong…"
"What horses?" I asked. But we'd already arrived at the cubbyhole of the former flyer Peter.
"Everything's in order." Helen showed him the paper. "The commandant has accepted the necessity of the flight."
Peter smiled with the corners of his lips and grew serious, "Are you sure, Helen? The rain is getting heavy. We lifted a balloon, the air above is gusty…"
"Peter…"
"Fine."
He threw a sideways glance at me, walked up to Helen, and suddenly embraced her. The flyer waited obediently.
"Don't take any risks, girl. All right?" Peter looked into her eyes. "The House and the Church have many interests. But we've only got one life… Come on, the glider is being taken out."
Helen nodded, "I always remember that."
"Kid…"
I walked up to him. Peter pulled out a beautiful steel flask from out of his desk and handed it to me, "Drink. Take a big gulp."
It turned out to be brandy, not the best but fairly decent.
"You'll relax and won't panic as much in the cabin," Peter explained. "Come on, take another."
I didn't argue. It seemed that all flyers were, first and foremost, afraid of their passengers panicking in the cabin. Remembering my first flight and Mark nearly falling out, I couldn't fault them for that.
"Thanks…" I returned the flask. "I promise to be quiet."
That seemed to satisfy him. Peter took a swig himself and went with us.
First we went to the bathroom. Helen wordlessly directed me to the door with a male outline and entered her own stall. I nodded in understanding. There was no way to relieve oneself in the air. Peter, who wasn't in danger of that, awaited us in the hallway.
Only after that did we go outside. To my eyes, the rain hadn't gotten heavier at all, but Helen lifted her palm up and shook her head in disapproval. We went to one of the hangars, which was already empty and illuminated by bright lamps. It seemed they'd recently rolled something out of there, as the ground was still fresh with tracks.
"Come on, hurry up," Peter asked. "Ten more minutes, and I'm not going to let you fly."
"Then help." Helen removed her cloak and began to undress awkwardly. She didn't feel self-conscious in front of Peter, and combined with the recent embrace this had a depressing effect on me.
Peer helped her, then got a white-and-blue uniform from a locker next to a wall.
"Why are you just standing there?" Helen asked me sharply.
The two of us helped her get dressed. It all looked like a scene at an Amsterdam brothel…
"Helen and I are old friends," Peter said suddenly. "I taught her to fly."
I said nothing.
"Then, one day, I crashed, thought I was going to die…"
"Peter, you don't have to say any of that," Helen said, buttoning up her jacket with her good hand.
"I do. You think I can't see how your friend is looking at me? I gave the Sister a vow that, if I survived… So there's no need to feel jealous."
I didn't know what to say to that. I never understood all that flesh mortification stuff.
"Peter…" Helen said in reproach, and the former flyer fell silent.
We left the hangar and followed the tracks. The glider hadn't been dragged far, to the very start of a long stone strip. A tarp was stretched over it on strong-looking poles, and a dozen soldiers were busy hanging the tubes of boosters under its belly.
Something utterly strange was happening too. Farther along the airstrip, on both sides of it, stood two squad stone towers. And now two teams of muscular draft horses were dragging thick ropes from the towers. They were doing it with difficulty, as if unwinding them from unyielding drums.
"The tow is new here, it'll throw you up well," Peter said. "So save the boosters…"
"Peter, I fly my own way."
He fell silent.
We walked up to the glider just when the horses reached it, and the boosters were already hanging from under the winged machine. Outwardly, the glider looked the same as the one that had crashed. Maybe the wings were slightly longer, as the ends were sticking out from under the tarp and quivering under the streams of water.
"Hook them up, quickly!" Peter shouted. The soldiers rushed over to the ropes, grabbed all over them like ants, and began to drag them by the hooks to the glider's nose.
"Have them tow as fast as they can," Helen asked. Peter beckoned a soldier with flags in his hands over.
"Signal to the towers to release the brakes all the way when launching!"
While all this was happening, while the ropes were being hooked up and the tubes of boosters were being checked, I felt myself to be the most unnecessary man in the world. The tension was growing, Helen was already climbing into the cabin, tossed her bag inside, climbed out, peered under the glider…
"Hurry!" Peter asked.
"Get inside, Il… Strap in!"
Helen broke off before finishing the first part. Fortunately, no one reacted to the part of my name. I hurried to climb into the back seat, bent over in the now-familiar posture, and tied the safety strap around my abdomen. It was so uncomfortable…
The flyer was also done with her testing. She got in front of me, secured herself, and waved her hand to pull the small fuse cylinder from out of the Cold. Now I was able to get a good look at it. Made of black polished wood, seemed to be able to be taken apart, as there was a thin line that ran down the middle, as if giving away the thread. Several metal pins were sticking out of the end. What was inside that fuse?
Helen secured the charts to one side, lowered her right hand onto the handle to the right, with her left awkwardly grabbing the control lever. She shouted out the open window, "Now, Peter…"
Her friend hesitated for a moment, and I even had a thought that Peter was going to order the soldiers to unhook the ropes… But no, he obeyed.
The glider jerked, making me scared for the entire fragile structure. We dashed forward. The awning, the soldiers, Peter, the signaler waving his flags were instantly behind us. The windows of the cabin were covered in rain, then the wind tore off the droplets. The glider was moving faster and faster, the ropes were winding back up at a great speed, disappearing in the wide slanted embrasures of the towers.
"Sister aid us! Save and protect!" Helen shouted. I was flooded with fear from this belated alarmed prayer. She wasn't certain of success at all, that flyer Helen…
The shaking ceased. The ropes were still pulling us ahead, but the glider had already lifted off the strip and was soaring into the sky. A moment later, the ropes disconnected. It was unbearably quiet, and the high-pitched singing of the wind felt like a dream. The wet gray stones of the airfield were moving fast below us, as well as the structures that had become tiny in a moment. The low sky was swaying above up.
"Hold on, Ilmar!"
Helen touched the fuse. I had no idea how she was managing to do everything with a broken arm. She also pressed some levers with her feet, as if she was riding one of those newfangled velocipedes.
A booster roared to life below me. Just like Baron Munchausen from that story, sitting atop a flare, we were speeding ahead on a flaming horse…
"Helen, you were told to save…"
I broke off. The desire to give advice was impossible to get rid of! Why was it that we always knew how to best do what we couldn't do ourselves?
Fortunately, Helen hadn't heard me over the roaring of the booster and while controlling the glider. She was doing something strange with the machine, raising the nose higher and higher, as if we really were a carnival firework shot straight up.
"Helen…" I whispered in a voice that was hoarse from the terror. Then I closed my eyes, but that didn't make me feel any calmer. Mentally, I understood that we were flying straight into the sky, but all of my senses were insisting that we were falling. The glider was being rocked and tossed from side to side. We were probably about to hit some rocks…
I opened my eyes. I should've drunk Peter's entire flask… There were storm clouds right above us, and we kept getting closer to them…
As if hearing my thoughts, Helen said suddenly, "Peter is probably swearing loudly right now. He doesn't believe in boosters at all…"
Swallowing, I said, "Eunuchs are always cowardly…"
"What? He's not a eunuch, he just swore to avoid the pleasures of the flesh…"
The clouds were getting closer. I tried to make out how far the ground was, but the sky seemed to be everywhere.
"Helen, the clouds…"
"What about them? Don't worry, that's just a visual, steam…"
"I know, I'm not an idiot!"
I did know, ever since I was little, the schoolteacher had told us a lot about the scientific progress. But it was hard to believe that clouds were nothing but steam when the eye insisted that they were thick and viscous like dirty snow. If we hit them, we'd get stuck! Or bounce back and then down… On the way from the Isles of Sorrow, the sky had been clear everywhere and I hadn't thought about that danger, but now…
"Helen…"
"Did you like the tale I spun to the commandant? That's where your dumb outfit paid off. Can you actually paint?"
I groaned in shame. Helen, just like Mark the last time, was distracting me, a fool, keeping me talking. It was hard enough for her as it was, just look at how many levers and dials were in front of her. Her shoulders were moving hard, so it was probably not easy to pull glider control sticks, especially with a broken arm. The job of a flyer wasn't easy for a man, as for a woman… a crippled one at that… it was utterly unthinkable.
"Helen, don't get distracted," I asked. "I'm hanging on."
She answered only a minute later, when the clouds seemed to be close enough to touch.
"That's good, Ilmar…"
Her praise gave me strength. Gritting my teeth, I held back from screaming, and when the cloud flannel covered us, didn't even utter a peep.
It was as if we'd been dunked in cloudy water!
It was very dark outside the windows, just the orange light from the roaring booster was coming from behind. But beyond it was a gray haze…
"How are you doing, Ilmar?"
"I'm fine…" I whispered. "Helen, do you have anything to drink?"
"The same place as before. That pocket is for hardtack and a flask."
I turned around, feeling for the pocket with food. There it was…
I felt a little better after a few swigs. I could even look out at the gray haze outside calmly. It really was just steam, fog, just a visual…
"Helen, why did you fly into the clouds?"
"We need to get above the cloud layer."
She pulled a lever, the glider jerked, and silence fell.
"What, the booster burned out?" I asked.
"Yes. Be quiet…"
It seemed that Helen was peering into the milky cloud, trying to find something only she knew. The flyer's hand hovered over the fuse. Was she going to light off another booster?
"We're coming out…" she said with obvious relief.
At that moment, the world around us grew brighter, and we flew out of the clouds!
I yelped out of joy, not out of fear. It was so beautiful… man wasn't meant to see such beauty.
Clouds stretched below us. An unending shroud all the way to the horizon. Only they weren't gray and sad anymore, they were snow-white. An endless snowy field, a hilly plain untouched by human feet. Whimsical curls, frozen fountains, lazy waterfalls of cloudy foam… And above all this were the blinding blue sky and the bright sun.
"Helen…" I whispered. "So beautiful, Helen…"
The cloudy sea under us lived its own leisured and measured life. Lazy aerial rivers flowed, cloudy whirlpools circled, clumps of fog flew past us like snowy dust. A dark spot was dashing across the white plain, easily leaping over even the tallest ridges. I stared at it for a moment, trying to understand what sort of bird had soared over the clouds, then exclaimed, "Helen, is that our shadow?"
"Yeah." The flyer turned, and a smile appeared on her face. "Beautiful?"
I nodded.
"I like flying above the clouds. Even though it's dangerous."
"Why?"
"It would take too long to explain. There are many reasons, Ilmar. Ice, for one."
It really was cold, but I wasn't noticing it while wrapping myself in the cloak and hungrily peering at the marvelous cloudy land.
"What does ice have to do with it? Can we really freeze here?"
"Look at the wings."
The wings were gleaming like glass. They really were covered by a thin crust of ice.
"It's extra weight. The wings are intentionally painted dark on top, so they heat in the sun better. But we got too wet going through the clouds, and the ice is pulling is down. I'm going to have to burn a second booster now."
"Go ahead," I said, making myself comfortable. The fear was gone, and it was ridiculous to remember the brief panic. Next to Helen, the best flier in the world, over that marvelous cloudy land, I couldn't think of anything bad.
The second booster burned out faster, or maybe it just seemed that way to me. But we soared even higher, the white sea under us smoothed out, becoming almost flat. The air became completely cold and burning.
"Is it difficult to breathe?" Helen asked. Her voice had changed somehow, becoming higher pitched, more piercing.
It really was strange to breathe… like high up in the mountains. Well, yeah, we'd gone alpine high in a single leap…
"It is, Helen!"
"Hold on. We're three kilometers high. Do you understand? Have you been to the mountains?"
"Yeah… Helen, what if we go even higher?"
"You'll suffocate. And the wings won't be able to hold us up. How are you ears?"
"Fine… Tell me, have you gone higher?"
"Yeah, but not much. This is almost the limit for a glider. They can go up to ten kilometers in balloons, but you can't breathe up there at all. They sit in a sealed cabin, breathing the air they brought from the ground on the Word… you can take a lot of air, it's almost weightless… they clean it with chemicals…" After a moment, she added, "The sky there is as black as night, and you can see the stars at the same time as the sun… I'd like to see that one day…"
I said nothing. The description frightened me. Night that was hiding this high up, in the bright sky… stars that flickered around the sun. I could picture that very vividly.
"Maybe without me," I muttered. "I'd rather crawl through an entire pyramid than face fears like that…"
We flew and flew, and the cloudy sea didn't seem to have an end. I noticed that the glider was losing altitude steadily. It was difficult for the eye to pick up, especially with the nose slightly raised, but the clouds were getting closer.
"Where are we, Helen?"
"Approaching Turin. I don't see any breaks in the clouds… the observers lied."
"Are we going to be able to land without an airfield?"
"Sure, but we'll break the glider again. Be quiet."
I fell silent, occasionally sipping the cognac. The clouds were approaching. We were beginning to get tossed side to side again. There was a sudden flash in the clouds.
"Thunderstorm," Helen informed me. "Not good."
"Are we out of boosters?"
"One left. I'll save it," Helen said reluctantly. "Hold on…"
The glider tipped to one wing, slid left, then right, and circled… The flyer was looking for the wind. But she didn't seem to have had any luck; soon the darting around ceased, and we returned to our previous course.
"Do you have a compass there?" I asked.
"Yes. Ilmar, for Sister's sake, be silent!"
We descended for ten more minutes, and when the clouds were very close, Helen swore and put her hand on the fuse.
"Hold on, I'm lighting off…"
The last charge she used up not so much to gain altitude as to fly somewhere east. The sun was in my eye, so finally I began to only look down. In surprise, I noticed breaks in the clouds.
"Helen, the clouds are parting!"
"I know…"
The glider jerked, as the last booster separated and tumbled down.
"Have they ever fallen on someone's head?.."
"They have, but not often. We're forbidden to use boosters over cities."
Now we were utterly at the mercy of the wind. But the cloudy sea really had torn apart into separate shreds, and Helen kept finding updrafts, pulling the glider up in a huge spiral and continuing on her way.
"I think we're safe…" the flyer said. "Either you're a lucky one, Ilmar, or fortune has smiled on me. We never would've made it without luck. And the machine hasn't failed us…"
"There are good gliders in China," I said.
"I know. They have ones with enough charge to fly for an hour. Those things are heavy and can't really glide. They only fly on boosters, but they're quick. They say they can cover over two hundred kilometers in that hour…"
"What's the hurry? It's still fast, an hour more, an hour less…"
"Not necessarily. Sometimes minutes can decide everything in war. I didn't make it in time once… just barely… I had to burn down a bridge."
"How do you do that?"
"They attach a bomb instead of one booster," Helen said reluctantly. "You descend over the target, jettison it, and it explodes when it hits the ground… They tried attaching rapid-fire slug-throwers, but it's not convenient. A lot of weight, and you can't really aim well anyway. Have you fought?"
"When I was young."
"Have you ever seen a glider attack?"
"No, those were minor wars, just provinces settling scores. No gliders."
"You got lucky. When a dozen gliders descend over a battlefield, and each of them drops a pair of bombs…" She turned around without releasing the levers and shook her head, "God forbid, Ilmar. Even from up above it's frightening to see what you've done."
The Night Witch wasn't joking or flirting. Her eyes were completely serious.
"War is always frightening. Nothing new there."
"I don't know about that. When it's two sides coming together in honorable combat, it's one thing. But when death is falling from the sky, it's another."
"Why are you insulting your own job?"
"I love flying, Ilmar. That's my job…"
Women were always like that. Any man in her position would've been proud to terrify the enemy and scatter the regiments with his glider. But she was… right, of course. A woman's task was to give life, not take it away.
"I understand, Helen. Are there many female flyers?"
"Just ten. But I'm the best."
She said it simply, without unnecessary pride, and I nodded in agreement.
"You really are the best. And not just in the air."
Producing a forced smile, Helen got back to her instruments. The glider slid along in search of an updraft. I sat there, cursing my quick but awkward mouth. I hadn't meant the bed, but the flyer clearly interpreted my words unambiguously…
I decided not to continue the conversation, while Helen clearly had enough on her plate without talking. Soon the sleepless night and the booze were letting themselves known. It didn't feel like I was dreaming, but I did see something. A white cloudy field, and I was walking on it without falling through the wet fog any deeper than my knees. The blinding sun was shining over me, the air was cold and clear, while thunder was rumbling, and lightning was flashing below me…
"Ilmar…"
Opening my eyes, I was surprised to note that the sun was at the zenith, shining through the tightly stretched fabric of the cabin, and it seemed to have gotten a little warmer…
"Are you sleeping?"
"Yeah… a little."
"Good. Look down."
I peered through the glass.
There wasn't a single cloud. Green, flowering earth, patches of fields, tiny buildings… oh, people! Barely crawling dots!
That was to the left of the glider. To the right was a bright-blue gentle sea.
"Helen, how long did I sleep?"
"Three hours, Ilmar."
"Come on!" I barely avoided swearing. Only my second time on a glider, and I was already sleeping like it was an ordinary stagecoach. "Where are we, Helen?"
"We've passed Naples. Approaching Sorrento."
"So we didn't land in Rome? That's great, Helen…"
For some reason, the idea of landing near Urbis, where so many servants of the Sister and the Redeemer were waiting for me, wasn't bringing me joy.
"That's right, Helen… good…"
"Good?" the flyer asked in an icy voice.
"Why?"
"Just good?"
I was starting to understand.
"No, not just. You're the best in the world—"
"Ilmar, I've just done what no other flyer managed before. I've flown from Lyon to Sorrento without landing." She turned and gave me an indignant glare, "And all you can say to that is 'Good'?"
"Helen, you have to understand, I don't know anything about this. I just believe you. And I'm glad that you were able to make it without landing…"
The glider shook, and the flyer got back to her controls. It seemed I'd managed to brave that particular storm… I really had expected great things from her, a lot greater than a nonstop flight from Gaul to Italy…
"Hold on tight," Helen said finally. "The landing will be rough, there's only one airstrip on Capri, and even that one… people don't fly here often. Do you see the island?"
Yeah, I could see the island. Drowning in vegetation, entirely built up, with yellow strips of beaches. A small island, and the idea that the runaway Prince Marcus could be hiding here seemed utterly ridiculous.
"Do you know where to land?"
"Approximately… Where's that strip, are they all asleep or something? No discipline at all…"
The glider was rounding the island in a smooth arc. Then it suddenly dipped its nose and began to go down sharply.
"Found it," Helen said calmly. "We'll chance it, too tired to keep circling…"
The ground was getting closer, and I still couldn't make out the landing strip. It seemed that we were either going to crash into a building, drop into the sea, or, best case scenario, land on a beach filled with people…
Then I saw a short stone road up ahead behind a low white fence. A tiny hangar, a short mast with the lazily fluttering striped cone of a windsock…
"Hah…" Helen exclaimed when the glider hopped just over the fence. A naked man was running on the strip, waving his arms and trying to get out of our way. It seemed he'd been sunbathing on the stone slabs…
A thump, then another…
The glider began to roll more smoothly, and I realized that we'd actually landed. And without the unpleasantness promised by Helen. Shaking a little on the slab gaps, the glider slowed and stopped right at the end of the strip. It looked like not everyone managed that; a strong net was stretched over tough-looking poles in front of the fence.
"There…" Helen said. "Eh? Ilmar? Not bad?"
"You should've been born a bird," I said.
"Nah. It's too easy for birds. No fun at all…"
Turning, she touched my cheek and smiled, "If you ever end up flying with someone else… then you'll definitely understand why I'm proud of myself, Ilmar."
The man who'd been sunbathing here was already running to the glider, hopping and closing his pants on the way. His eyes were confused, his hands were shaking while he was helping Helen get out.
"Why was the strip occupied?" Helen barked with such fury that mad even me jerk away. "Why is no one watching the sky, not sending up signals? Where is the person in charge of the airfield?"
"I'm in charge, My Lady…"
"No, you're not. You're going to be polishing the strip and cleaning the latrine when you come out of the stockade. Two weeks!"
"Yes, ma'am, two weeks in the stockade…"
Based on the look of that beefy man, he'd been expecting a far greater punishment.
I hopped out after Helen. She continued drilling the poor man with her gaze, then waved her hand hopelessly and spoke, to me this time, "That's how it always is in resorts… hopeless…"
In the meantime, people were running from the tower, hurriedly adjusting their uniforms. Two green flares suddenly soared into the sky from the tower itself.
"About time…" Helen shook her head. "Just look at that… maybe I should take off and land again, this time in accordance with the regs."
She laughed suddenly.
"Let's go… And you, make sure the glider is in full working order and put up new boosters! The machine has to be ready for takeoff at any moment!"
Leaving the scared airfield workers next to the glider, we went to the gate. Helen was still frowning, but her eyes were already smiling, "This is just ridiculous, Ilmar… my best flight, whose place is in the textbooks, and no effect! None at all! I didn't even hit that idiot with a wing on landing! Or broke a wheel! No, we landed as if that's how it should be."
"I get that," I said.
"How can you?.."
"Helen, I've also done things that were nearly impossible to do. And everyone else just nodded and couldn't understand that they'd just witnessed a miracle. To others… to others it all looked simple."
"Thanks," Helen said after a pause. "Thank you, Ilmar. Well then, shall we look for a needle in a haystack?"
"We'll find it. Assuming it's even here."
And yet, deep inside, I felt a brief, painful prickle of conscience. After all, we were planning on catching my recent escape buddy and handing him over the House.
But what else could we do? It was too easy for others to judge…