Chapter Sixteen

1.

The opeme was clearly happy enough to fly away from its former home, rapidly climbing upwards to a few hundred feet before straightening its wings and picking up speed. The three hunkered down in the saddle, with Annabelle only needing to provide occasional direction with the reins. Their steed seemed to know where they were headed all on its own.

They could see a patch of fire at the edge of the city, presumably set by Thymon as he escaped in his boat. A few opeme followed them for a while, but then turned back. Annabelle let her opeme slow, spiralling up and around the clouds. It was overcast but brilliantly clear, at least by Venusian standards. She could enjoy the view, so long as they weren’t being chased.

They watched for half an hour. The fire seemed under control, if demanding the attentions of a good score of opeme, who at this distance looked like moths dancing around a candle. But then the flame began to spread rapidly along the walls, encircling the island in a matter of minutes, the flames leaping so high as to obscure the walls.

A heartbeat later, the city exploded in a fireball. Black smoke poured straight up in a column, then spread out, looking like nothing so much as a grotesque mushroom.

Annabelle cracked the reins and leaned forward on the opeme’s neck. A giant invisible hand threw them out and upwards into the clouds, tumbling the opeme like a leaf caught in a gale.

The opeme snapped its wings open, slamming its passengers against their restraint straps. It started climbing through the clouds.

“That was unexpected,” Arnaud said.

“Well, we seem to be alive,” Nathanial said. He glanced at Annabelle. “I’m certain Thymon was as far away as we were. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to dally.”

Annabelle nodded weakly. “No. But…all those people.”

“Perhaps they had someplace to shelter themselves,” Nathanial said. “One hopes.”

“It could not have been just the trees,” Arnaud said. “Something else, perhaps. I haven’t discovered all the properties of asterium. Large ore deposits might very well be volatile. Further research is needed, I think.”

“I’m sorry, Arnaud,” Nathanial said. “I’ve fair much failed you, haven’t I?”

“Not at all, mon ami. I still live.”

“With your sickness. Not to mention—” he looked at Annabelle, who had recovered the reins and was steadying the opeme with comforting clucks of her tongue.

Arnaud put a hand on his shoulder. “I thought you might have a notion of that,” he said quietly. “I saw your eyes after my foolish hypothesizing over this ‘life force’. We read the same monographs, you and I.” He coughed. “We have to see. There are other fish in the sea and other ore deposits in the Solar System. Or perhaps the explosion we have left behind has done us the simultaneous favours of excavation and evacuation. We might very well be able to collect some samples in relative peace. But that will be a future expedition, I think. For now, I have an excuse for the occasional hot tea with brandy.”

“You have a point,” Nathanial said. “In the meantime, we have the more immediate issue of locating the Aeronaut.”

“To the first things first, I suggest climbing out of the cloud,” Arnaud said, raising his voice enough for Annabelle to hear. “This damp does little for my cough.”

Annabelle nodded and reined the opeme upwards. They emerged above a great plane of golden cumulus splashed with tendrils of mist. Far above them, they could see the outline of the sun through the overcast. It was breath taking.

And they had no idea where they were.

“No sign of Forbes-Hamilton,” Nathanial said.

“Not to be expected, in hindsight,” Arnaud said. “He is no doubt doing as ordered, and staying hidden in the clouds, waiting for our flare.”

“Our flare,” Nathanial said. “You mean the ones Thymon was carrying?”

Arnaud closed his eyes. “Merde. I do believe those would be the flares in question.” He clapped his hands together. “A nice dilemma, we have here.”

“We could head north,” Annabelle said. “I am in favour of anywhere but here.”

“Agreed,” said Nathanial. He squinted at the sun. Call that the west, he decided. North was where the British colony on Victoria Plateau was, wasn’t it? “That way, if you please, my dear,” he said, pointing with as much confidence as he could muster.

“You haven’t a clue, have you?” Annabelle said.

Nathanial’s shoulders sagged. “Not a one.”

“Fair enough,” Annabelle said cheerfully. She cracked the reins and the opeme surged forward.

“Wait!” she cried. “Look over there, I saw a light.”

“Oh lovely, let’s chase lights in the sky,” said Nathanial. “That worked out so well last time.”

“Hush,” Annabelle said. “I’ve a good feeling about this one.”

“Tenth time is the charm, to quote the man at the roulette wheel,” Arnaud said.

The opeme banked to lose altitude and headed towards Annabelle’s light. It was in the top layer of a cloud and getting brighter.

They were almost over the light when its source was revealed as a balloon with a string of lanterns around its gondola. It rose out of the cloud, dragging a cable behind it. As they dropped down to its level, they could see a man standing in the basket, a sextant in his hand.

Annabelle wheeled the opeme around the basket, close enough to see the proverbial whites of the fellow’s eyes.

Forbes-Hamilton screamed.

“Here now, sir, it is simply us,” Nathanial called.

A bit of back and forthing and multiple assurances later, Forbes-Hamilton agreed to let them attempt an aerial transfer.

Nathanial felt he was getting altogether too adept at those.

Once secure in the basket, Annabelle waved a melancholy farewell to her opeme.

“I’ll get you a parrot for your wedding, promise,” said Nathanial.

“I can’t really explain it,” said Annabelle. “We had a bit of a bond. I mean, not to go all patting myself on the back, but that transfer was a bit of tricky flying.”

“It was at that,” Nathanial said. Did the girl have some sort of control over that beast, like Collins had over the Therians? If so, that raised a host of questions, most of which would sadly remain unanswered. Or perhaps it was just the chocolate biscuits.

“My apologies,” Forbes-Hamilton said. “Welcome to my auxiliary navigation platform.” He coughed gently. “I found myself in the need of a sextant shot. But we can descend back to the Aeronaut now.”

“Ah, a bit of trouble with the inertial navigation system?” Arnaud asked.

“More like with the confounded difference engine the Navy issued me. Free and worth every penny. If it hadn’t stopped working, I’d still be safely hidden in the cloud deck, not up here…” Forbes-Hamilton looked around at his fellow passengers. “I mean to say, it was a fortuitous event, was it not?”

“Indeed it was,” Nathanial said. “Now then, shall we descend back to your exquisite airship?”

Forbes-Hamilton beamed. “Why, of course! Just in time for dinner. My mum’s stew recipe. Well, with rather more dinosaur meat than Mum used, but frankly one can’t tell the difference.”

“Perhaps some other time,” Nathanial said.

END

Next:

“The Forever Journey”