The Song of the Winns (16 page)

“This is a letter from the major commanding your father's old regiment explaining your circumstances and recommending you for service in the palace. If you should happen to meet a Sourian patrol and they ask for your identity papers, show it to them.”

“How did you get it?” Alice asked, clutching the letter tightly.

“It's a forgery. A good one, I hope.” He smiled drily. “Now listen, Claudia is going to drop you in a field just on the other side of the Winns, about a three-hour walk east of Cornoliana.”

Alice, picturing the map which hung on the wall of the classroom, thought she knew where he meant.

“Claudia will return to the field every day at sunset. If you haven't managed to fulfill your objective within two weeks, abort the mission and return to the field.
Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Then I will leave you to say your farewells.” He turned toward the path, then stopped. “Oh, and Alice? Don't worry too much about forgetting what you have learned. You have been an excellent pupil, and the information will come to you when you need it. You'll see.”

Alice gaped at him. How had he read her fears so accurately?

“And, Alex, I know you're equal to any situation.” He allowed a small wry smile to cross his lips. “Good luck, you two.”

As he disappeared down the path it occurred to Alice that it was the first time he'd used their real names.

The balloon was semi-inflated by now, and Claudia called, “I'm turning on the burner. You've got two minutes.”

Alex was casting longing glances over his shoulder. Alice could tell he was impatient to leave.

“I guess we should be going,” she said, as the burner started up with a
whoosh
and the balloon began to rise toward an upright position.

Although Uncle Ebenezer put on a brave face, his mustache was decidedly droopy as he brushed the cheddar crumbs from Alex's whiskers and kissed the top of Alice's head. Beezer looked sad and solemn as she hugged first Alice then Alex.

“We'll see you soon,” said Uncle Ebenezer, his voice
thick. Then he hurried up the path without a backward look.

Alice and her brother jogged over to where Claudia was standing by the basket, which was tethered to the ground.

“Jump in,” said the tan-spotted mouse.

Alex clambered over the side then reached back to help Alice as she too scrambled in. Claudia pulled out the pegs tethering the basket down then, with one hand on the wicker edge, vaulted neatly in as the basket began to drift slowly upward.

“Okay,” she said, “rules of the basket: no sudden movements, let's just try to keep things nice and stable, and if we run into any turbulence slip your arms through those ropes.” She indicated some ropes laced through the basket's weave. “Here we go.” She adjusted a valve and the flame shot up into the balloon, causing it to rise more swiftly.

Alice stood at the edge of the basket, which came up to chest-height, and waved to her aunt, who was still standing at the edge of the clearing.

A light breeze had sprung up, ruffling Beezer's creamy fur as she stood with her hand shading her eyes against the afternoon sun.

The basket swayed gently as it rose higher and higher, until they were floating past the treetops. The clearing was a small ragged circle of light green grass fringed by the dark green leaves of the trees, and Aunt Beezer was a small waving speck.

“This is brilliant!” Alex cried over the hiss of the
burner. “You can see everything from up here! Look, sis.” He darted from one side of the basket to the other, causing the basket to rock.

“Not too much moving around,” the pilot reminded him. “We need to keep the basket balanced.”

Alice looked where her brother was pointing and saw the Stetson school and the town below. She had a strange sensation of weightlessness, floating high above the ground. She wasn't sure if she liked the feeling or not.

“How long will the trip take?” she asked the pilot.

“Six hours,” Claudia estimated. “Depends on the wind.”

“How long would an owl take?”

Claudia shrugged. “Maybe three.”

Alex looked slightly put out, but Alice had other concerns than speed.

“You mean we'll arrive in the dark?”

“Yep,” Claudia replied.

“But how will you find the field?” Alex wanted to know.

“I'll find it,” said the pilot.

“So you've flown this route before?” Alex persisted.

“Mmm.” It was hard to know whether Claudia's reply was an affirmation or not. She seemed to Alice to be a mouse of surprisingly few words—though perhaps, Alice thought, she was just being discreet. She probably didn't know any of the details of her passengers' mission, nor was she meant to know.

“How do you go down?” Alex asked as the pilot sent another spurt of flame into the balloon.

Claudia indicated a rope, which ran right through from the top of the balloon to the basket. “I pull this rope to open the valve up there—what we call the parachute valve.” She pointed to a small circular flap. “That lets out some of the hot air, which is causing us to rise.”

Alice watched the earth below, following the snaking line of a gleaming river winding through a rocky mountain range. “Are we in Gerander now?”

Claudia glanced down. “Yep.”

“Woohoo!” Alex whooped.

Alice stood up to get her first glimpse of the country she'd heard so much about recently—that she was risking her life to save. As she lifted her head above the edge of the basket a cool breeze brushed her fur, and she was sure she could hear the rustle of leaves. “Oh!” she exclaimed as a scent redolent of river and grasses and summer flowers hit her nose.

“Crossing the Winns,” said Claudia, lifting her head to inhale the sweet air.

Alice barely had time to take in a broad blue river and fields of gold and green before they were headed out to sea.

“The Cannolian Ocean,” Claudia said in answer to Alex's question.

“But doesn't that mean we've left Gerander behind?”

“We'll stay out here, just off the coast, until the last moment,” the tan-spotted mouse replied. “Less chance of being spotted by a Sourian patrol.”

That made sense, Alice thought, trying to imagine
what they must look like from below. She saw the logic in choosing a sky-blue balloon for a cloudless day. The white basket could look like a cloud or a bird, she supposed. She wondered if Claudia also had a gray balloon—envelope—for cloudy days.

Hours passed, with nothing but the hard, glassy surface of the ocean and the blurred line of the Gerandan coast to look at.

When the chill of the wind started to make her nose twitch, Alice sat on the floor of the basket, her back against its side, her arms around her knees.

Alex, who showed no sign of feeling the cold, continued to lean out of the basket asking questions.

“What's that?”

“A sea eagle.”

“Do they attack balloons?”

“Only if we trespass on their territory.”

“Will we trespass on their territory?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Alex sounded vaguely disappointed, as if he'd been looking forward to coming under attack from a giant raptor.

They flew on into the setting sun.

“What's that?” Alex asked.

“Eagle—no, wait.” Claudia moved carefully across the basket to where Alex stood and squinted into the fading light. “I'm not sure,” she said, more to herself than to Alex.

Alice stood up to see.

Her brother and the pilot were staring at a gray cigar-shaped object moving slowly toward them. It didn't look like a bird—it wasn't soaring or swooping—but what else could it be?

“Maybe it's a cloud,” she suggested, but even as she said it she knew that wasn't right either. It seemed more purposeful in its movement, whereas a cloud would just drift.

“It looks like. . . ,” Claudia began slowly. “It looks like a dirigible.”

“A what?” said Alex.

“A dirigible,” Claudia replied, her eyes fixed on the craft moving inexorably toward them. “An airship. Uses hot air, like a balloon, but it's controlled by propellers and rudders.”

“Who would be flying a dirigible around here?” Alice asked.

“That's what I'd like to know,” Claudia said. “Let's see if it knows we're here.”

She adjusted the propane valve to send a jet of flame into the basket, and Alice felt her stomach drop to the floor as they shot upward.

Seconds later, the dirigible too moved to a higher altitude.

“Interesting,” Claudia murmured. She tugged at the rope to open the parachute valve, and their ascent slowed. After a few moments, the dirigible did the same. “Very interesting.” Alice thought she sounded rather grim.

“Could it be someone from FIG?” Alice asked hopefully.

“Nope. FIG doesn't have any dirigibles.”

As the dirigible grew nearer, Alice saw that it was more silver than gray. Silver and . . . what was that printed on its side? It was getting dark and she couldn't quite make it out. She craned her neck.

“I think you'll find it's a purple crown,” Claudia told her.

A purple crown on a silver background . . . Purple and silver . . . Alice's chest tightened so that she could barely breathe. “Sourians,” she said.

“Sourians,” Claudia confirmed.

“What will they do?” Alex, who had relished the thought of an eagle attack, sounded apprehensive now.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Claudia said, her eyes never leaving the approaching airship. “Ram us, maybe? Let's not wait around to find out. Hang on,” she instructed. “We're going for a wild ride.” She adjusted the valve so that a great spume of flame shot up into the envelope, and the balloon rose suddenly.

The higher they went, the stronger the winds grew, with irregular gusts that battered the balloon and tossed the basket around helplessly. Alice slipped her arms through the ropes on the inside of the basket and tried not to think about her churning insides. Their balloon seemed very fragile now, thrown about at the whim of the wind. What would happen if they fell from this height? she wondered as a particularly strong gust threatened to upset the basket. Surely they were too high; surely the balloon couldn't withstand these winds. They had to descend.

But then she bent her head and saw the dirigible brooding ominously below.

“Hold tight!” Claudia shouted over the roar of the wind. Her face was determined. “Going down!”

And with an almighty tug of the rope they plunged, down, down, until they were beneath the dirigible. Alice's stomach had barely caught up when, just as the dirigible descended to meet them, they shot up again. Alice couldn't suppress a moan as her head began to whirl in concert with her stomach and and she rested her head on her knees.

Alex didn't seem to be at all affected by their dizzying descents and ascents.

“Ha!” he gloated. “That foxed them!”

They'd caught a favorable current at last, and it was sweeping them along at a terrific speed when Alex said in a puzzled voice, “What was that? Something just flew past us. And here comes another one.”

Alice lifted her head in time to see a slim projectile hurtle past, narrowly missing the side of the balloon.

“It's a spear!” her brother cried. “They're trying to puncture the balloon!”

Alice kept her head up, transfixed, as a shower of spears flew toward them.

“Incoming!” Alex shouted.

Claudia released a small burst of flame and the balloon seemed to bounce up. Most of the spears passed harmlessly underneath but one hit the basket, the impact jostling them. Alex leaned over the side to pull the quivering piece
of wood free from the wicker. “If that's the best you can do . . . ,” he muttered at the dirigible trailing in their wake. The flurry of spears finished; either the Sourians had run out or they were finding it too hard to fix on their target now that the last glowing edge of the sun was dipping below the horizon.

“That evens up the playing field,” commented Claudia as darkness enfolded them. “Now, let's try to get our own back.” She released the parachute valve, and the balloon's progress slowed almost to a halt before beginning to drift down gently.

Alice, now that the buffeting had stopped, felt well enough to stand again.

But her momentary lifting of spirits was dampened as the dirigible hove into view, a dark forbidding mass made visible by the moon rising in the east.

The balloon floated toward land—agonizingly slowly it seemed to Alice—and they were gradually losing altitude. Were they losing power? Looking at the set of Claudia's face, she didn't dare ask. Down they drifted, down . . . down . . . until the smell of salt was strong and Alice could hear the churn and suck of waves below. Then suddenly they stopped. Alice couldn't help but cry out as they seemed to hover in the air, right in the path of the Sourian airship. Couldn't Claudia see the dirigible? It was coming straight for them, looming big and black, closer . . . closer . . . It was almost smothering them. They were going to collide!