“DennizzI Watch out for that spire!”
A high tower appeared out of the darkness, directly in their path. Dennis swung his weight leftward in the hanging saddle. “Lean hard!” he shouted, hoping Arth and Linnora would try to mimic his actions.
The glider tipped slowly. The top story of one of Zuslik’s higher buildings passed a scant two meters to their right. Through a brightly lit window Dennis glimpsed a scene of merriment. Some sort of celebration was in progress. There was a brief sound of high laughter. None of the partiers noticed a dark, swift shape whistle past their window.
Dennis fought to realign the glider. The bank had dropped them into a layer of turbulence. The craft bucked and fluttered as it followed the hillside down to the city proper.
Behind them the castle was in an uproar. Searchlamps cast sharp beams from every peak and parapet. Dennis didn’t dare look back, but he did hope the robot had managed to scuttle away at the end.
Zuslik’s wedding cake towers passed swiftly below them. The outer wall of the town lay less than a mile ahead, and beyond it the river. They were still losing altitude. It would be close.
Behind him Dennis could hear Arth’s teeth chattering. But Linnora’s grip on his waist was firm. Good girl. She wasn’t even trembling!
The glider surged as they passed through a pocket of warm air rising from a chimney. By the time Dennis regained control the town’s outer wall was coming toward them fast.
“Come on!” he urged the glider. “Come on, baby! Lift!”
He was talking to his craft, as almost every other pilot had.
But in this case the entreaties might actually do some good. Any additional practice the glider got couldn’t hurt.
The pixolet gripped his shoulder with its front claws and spread its wing membranes wide so its hind legs trailed behind. Was the darned thing actually trying to help for a change? It grinned, watching Dennis’s every move as the neophyte glider pilot threaded the higher towers toward the wall.
Hey! I’m not so bad at this! Dennis thought, grinning as the glider swooped around the steeple of a Coylian temple. A fellow could get to enjoy this.
A minute later he changed his mind. Were not going to make it.
Zuslik was a maze of twisting streets and pointed structures. In the darkness there was no way he could pilot the glider to a safe landing down there. He had brought them all to this predicament. Now it looked as if only the pixolet, with its built-in parachute, would escape catastrophe.
Suddenly the streets opened up, and the city wall loomed. It was at least a couple hundred yards ahead and now only a few meters below, waiting to flick them out of the air.
He glanced at Arth and Linnora. The little thief grinned back. In his adrenaline rush he looked like he was having the time of his life, totally confident in Dennis’s magical abilities.
Linnora’s eyes were closed, a peaceful expression on her face as she whispered quietly. Though her face was hardly a foot from his own, Dennis could not make out the words over the rushing wind.
Her chant seemed to resonate with the purring of the tiny animal on Dennis’s shoulder. For an instant she opened her eyes. She smiled at Dennis happily.
The pixolet purred louder.
Dennis piloted the glider past the last obstacle, and the stretch before the wall was ahead.
“Come on!” he urged the flying machine.
The ground swept past. Linnora’s chant and Pixolet’s purring seemed to meld with Dennis’s concentration. Reality seemed to shimmer around him. The struts and cables shuddered with a faint, musical thrill, almost as if the glider were changing under his very fingers. It felt familiar, somehow.
Dennis blinked. The wall was only twenty yards away now. Soldiers walked along the parapet carrying torches, their attention on the ground below.
Maybe… Dennis began to hope.
The glider seemed to hum excitedly. From the L’Toff Princess there streamed a feeling of power. And a great amplified echo seemed to come from the creature on his shoulder!
The glider felt electric under his hands, and the faintest shimmering light seemed to run along its cables. The taut fabric rippled with only the faintest luffing as the wall passed a bare man’s height below them. One guard stared up, slack-jawed. Then the wall was behind them, swallowed by the night.
Suddenly they were over the river. Faint starlight reflected from its surface.
The brief felthesh trance was fading. It had gotten them over the wall alive, But Dennis realized that no miracle of practice could get them across the water. Limited to a glider’s essence, their craft could only fall in the cool air, no matter how efficient it became.
To the left were the cluttered masts of the docks. He doubted they could clear them and get to the farmland beyond.
“Can everybody swim?” he asked. “I sure hope so, ’cause we’re going in.”
The wharves were dark. Only a rare light gleamed through a window here and there. “Cut loose your straps!” he told Arth. “Drop when I tell you to!”
The thief obeyed at once, his knife slashing the leather harness. Linnora wrapped her klasmodion in her cloak and nodded that she was ready.
Dennis tried to angle their descent parallel to the docks. The water swept past only two meters below, a blur under their feet.
“Now! Let go!”
Linnora gave Dennis a quick smile, then she and Arth jumped. The glider jounced and Dennis fought with it. It had been practiced to carry more weight, and the center of mass had shifted.
Centroid, Dennis reminded himself as he pushed backward. Where’s your centroid now? He heard two splashes behind him, then he was busy trying to negotiate his own landing.
It was too late to jump. He had to ride it out. He fumbled with his own strap and got it loose just as his feet began dragging through the water.
As he raised his legs he realized the pixolet was gone. Somehow it didn’t surprise him at all.
Suddenly his knees were plowing furrows in the river. The glider settled around him as the water pulled him into a wet embrace.
5
“Dennizz!”
Arth rowed as quietly as he could. He had muffled the oars of the skiff they had stolen. Even so, he hated having to row out into the open river. Search parties had already sallied forth from the castle—horsemen and infantry patrols would soon be scouring the countryside.
“Can you see him?”
Linnora peered into the darkness. “Not yet. But he must be out this way! Keep rowing!”
Her clothes were plastered to her body, and the valley winds blew along the water. But her only thoughts were on the river and her rescuer.
“Wizard!” she called. “Are you out there? Wizard! Answer me!”
There was only the soft squeaking of the oars and, in the distance, the shouts of the Baron’s troops.
Arth rowed.
Linnora’s voice cracked. “Dennis Nuel! You cannot die! Guide us to you!”
They paused to listen, barely breathing. Then out of the darkness came a faint sound. “That way!” She grabbed Arth’s shoulder and pointed. He grunted and pulled at the oars.
“Dennis!” she cried. She heard faint coughing somewhere ahead. Then a rough voice called back.
“The terrestrial has sblashed dowd… fortunately, my ship floats. Are you guys the local Coast Guard?”
Linnora sighed. She didn’t understand more than a word or two of what he had said, but that was all right. Wizards were supposed to be inscrutable.