Surely, the Star Lords could see that I could be trusted not to do a foolish thing? I would not seek out of overweening pride or curiosity to investigate the storm, to see if I might in fact see myself. I would see only my damn fool self smash the stanchion and tumble overboard, like a veritable coy!
With that seaman’s instinct reinforced by my years of wandering the Great Plains of Segesthes I found the island of Shanpo in the Lesser Sharangil Archipelago, the islands black formless splotches against the pink glitter of the water. I swung down. Below me the Kataki were at their evil trade, the aragorn and the slave-masters arrogant in their vileness. Well, their day would come. With the dawn I took the racer on to the far side of the island. I knew exactly what was going on in that small fishing village on the other shore, right at this minute, right now. . The slaves were rubbing their eyes, I among them, and cursing at the poor quality of the food, and being beaten. An aragorn would be running into the square and yelling and the Katakis would be beating the slaves into cover, and the fishing village would be in the process of being made to look innocent as the airboat flying Old Superb cruised into view.
All that was happening, over the hill, even now, as I waited. . I felt my breathing quicken and I cursed and I spoke aloud, wrathfully, to myself.
“By the diseased intestines of Makki-Grodno, you great nurdling onker! Calm down!”
With what emotions I lifted the little racing voller into the morning air and guided her up past the trees and held her there and then — oh, yes! And then-!
That magnificent flier flew into sight, over the trees, picking up speed, heading to make another desperate search for the husband of the Princess Majestrix of Vallia. The flags of scarlet and yellow flew proudly from every staff. I stared up and I swallowed.
“By Zim-Zair!” I said.
I sent the racer up in a swirl of power and the levers were hard over and she fairly stormed through the air. I roared up to the big voller and circled her. I dived beneath her keel and rose on the other side and so turned and planed back, an Immelman of perfect execution, and dived down over the decks. Everyone had turned out. A packed forest of faces stared up at me from the decks. Arms waved, scarves fluttered. I looked over the side.
Yes! Yes — there stood Delia, one hand lifted to her forehead to shield the glow of Zim and Genodras. And — she recognized me! She waved — she waved fiercely, joyfully, triumphantly!
I slammed the little racer for the airboat’s deck, for she would fit neatly enough in the broad space, and I landed her and stepped out. With a rib-crunching tackle, Delia clasped me to her and I held her and we stood and stood, fast locked in each other’s arms.
“Dray! Dray!” she said at last, drawing back. “We’ve been looking all over! We’ve been frantic. And the little voller? And your clothes? And — and-”
They were all there, crowding around, shouting and laughing and welcoming me back. Seg Segutorio, Inch, Turko the Shield, Korf Aighos, Tom ti Vulheim, Naghan the Gnat, Balass the Hawk, and Tilly and Oby — all of them, jumping up and down and trying to get at me, and Delia holding me, holding me!
Obquam of Tajkent, the flying Strom, circled around in his excitement — he, so grave and reserved. They made such a racket I could not make myself heard. I held up my left hand, for my right clasped my Delia to me.
They fell silent.
“Dray!” said Delia. “You great shaggy graint! You must tell us all about it — but first, you need a bath. And then we will have tea. And then we can continue on to Migladrin-”
So now they had to know, this early, this brutally.
“A bath and tea,” I said. “Oh, my Delia, my Princess Majestrix!” I shouted. Then, loudly, for all to hear
“You must go on to Migladrin and do what is necessary there. As for me, my duty to Valka and Vallia now lies elsewhere.”
They hung on my words. Delia looked up at me, half frowning. “Now where are you flying off to, Dray Prescot?”
“I have unfinished business in Hamal. I must go to Hamal.”
Their reaction should not have surprised me, but it did.
Instantly, all of them, were yelling it out: “Hamal! Hamal! We will go with you to Hamal!”
“Even to the Heavenly Mines?”
“Aye, Dray Prescot, Prince Majister! Even to the Heavenly Mines!”
This was nonsense, of course — but glorious nonsense!
There were things to be done, important things upon Kregen, for the good of Vallia and Valka and Migladrin and for the wishes of the Star Lords. I held Delia close.
“And will you, Dray, really venture to the Heavenly Mines?”
“Aye, for it will be a kind of Jikai.”
“Then you will not leave me. I shall, of course, come with you.”
I laughed — I, Dray Prescot, laughed.
“As to that, my Delia of Delphond, my Delia of the Blue Mountains, we shall see what we shall see!”