Between them and the demon floor was an object moving slowly, working to hold a useful position. Their target seemed tiny even when they were close. Father put on goggles and jerked hard at the parachute’s ropes, gliding them into a better course, and inside another two recitations Diamond saw the woman painted on the side of the Happenstance, and he heard a bright horn blowing in celebration.
“We’ll land on top,” Father promised.
“Can we?” Diamond asked doubtfully.
“I don’t know,” he said, laughing. “This is a first for both of us.”
The Happenstance remained trim and nearly motionless beneath them, and they turned and dropped over the bow, Father starting to run before his feet reached the hull’s taut skin. Then a stray gust of wind gave the umbrella new life. The fabric thudded as it filled with warm damp air, and they lifted as he yanked at the straps, once and again, and they dropped together. Diamond was down with Merit kneeling over him, both of them watching that great wing soaring, pressing fast into the bright distance.
“You should know,” Father said, gasping. “I thought this crazy plan would work. I couldn’t have believed in it more. Right up until you were inside the big ship, out of my sight, and then all the things that could go wrong showed themselves, and in my heart, just as sure as before, I knew you were lost.”
The gust failed and the lost parachute collapsed, falling fast. Diamond squinted against the glare, watching it shrink.
“I flew up and you didn’t jump. I assumed they’d wrapped you up in chains, or worse. So I made another plan. I was going to board that ship and search every room to bring you out. That’s what I was getting ready to do when you jumped. And with that idiot scheme, I was confident all over again.”
Father was laughing, releasing Diamond’s belt.
“Consider this a warning, son. When your mind tells you a story, you have no choice but to believe in it. Unreasonable stupid or mad as any fantasy might be, you’ll embrace it, cling to it, and do your best to let it enslave you.”
A top hatch opened. Out came the smiling face of the little pilot. “Those two jazzings are still paying dividends,” he boasted. “Let’s get below, and I’ll rush us all back to Ivory Station.”
Diamond hesitated.
Father pulled at him. “Come on now.”
The boy shook his head. “No.”
“We don’t have any choice, little man,” said the pilot. “A lot of explaining needs to be done, and delaying won’t help anybody here.”
The parachute was a crumpled wad below them, and then it spread wide, the demon floor slowing its fall, the fabric spreading out, as if hands were pulling a sheet across a tidy bed. Then it slipped through the magic barrier, turning to fire, to ash and nothingness.
Father pulled, but the boy slipped under his hand and stepped away.
With a rare sternness, Father said, “Diamond.”
The pilot laughed grimly. “Yeah, their big ship is foundering. Oh, this is going to be one expensive day.”
Diamond said, “I don’t want to go the Station. I want to be home.”
The slayer touched his own face, fingertips running along the scar.
The pilot climbed onto the hull. Watching the boy, he noticed the injured hand, the last hints of damage quickly becoming the smoothest, most perfect skin. Under his breath, the little man offered a simple prayer, and then he looked at Merit, ready to ask some obvious question.
Father spoke first.
“All right,” he said, pointing into the distance. A tiny shape had appeared—another fletch carrying his crew. “Are they close enough to signal?”
“Soon if not now,” the pilot responded.
“My orders,” Father said. “Tell them to sprint to the Station and explain what they can. If they get the chance, meet with Prima. Tell our Archon that I think she is a wonderful leader and smart and that I have delivered to her more misery and danger than she would ever wish to bear. But she needs to come to my home and meet my son.”
Diamond was crying, and he was giggling.
“Then you’ll fly us to our front door,” Father ordered. “I think this boy deserves that much consideration. Don’t you?”
The sun and the day weren’t brilliant anymore. Seldom was standing in the passenger cabin, standing beside the windows, pressing old binoculars against his bare eyes. Spellbound, he caught glimpses of Diamond falling free from the Ruler and the corona dancing beside his friend for what seemed like ages, and then Merit caught his son and where was the corona now? Gone and the parachute had opened, Merit and Diamond falling in a looping course while the Happenstance slowed its engines, wishing them to a safe landing.
Nobody spoke. Elata and Master Nissim and Seldom watched the parachute until it vanish somewhere above the ship. Haddi was standing above, in the crowded bridge. Then the engines turned them back into the wind and slowed. The old woman screamed from the bridge, which had to be bad news; Seldom had never felt so scared. And the pilot sounded scared when he started to shout, except the words were good.
“They’re down, we got them,” he screamed. “Damn we got them.”
Elata was beside Seldom, crying and jumping. And the Master was behind them, quietly saying the same word again and again.
“Remarkable,” he said.
But then the parachute was blown off the Happenstance, falling past Seldom’s windows. He was brave enough for one squinting glance, and he saw what he feared, shutting his eyes and pushing the binoculars hard against his sorry stomach. The pilot had warned them how the air was still near the demon floor, how they had to fly low to intercept their people, no room for second chances. And now their friend was going to be a cinder, and Merit was sure to die.
Seldom wasn’t ashamed to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Elata asked.
What was right? Nothing was.
And deciphering the tears, she laughed at him.
Anger made the eyes open. The parachute was a floppy mess, nobody riding it to their doom, and the loud little pilot was climbing stairs somewhere above them, shouting instructions to his people. Then Diamond’s mother came into the cabin, smiling warily. Seldom wiped his face with the sleeve of his school uniform and the Master patted his shoulders.
“Just remarkable,” he said.
In that instant, Seldom went from miserable to joyous. Pushing the binoculars against wet eyes, he watched the Ruler of the Wind continue to break open and fall to pieces. But the little airships that it had carried were free and racing off. Maybe the crew and everybody had been saved. That’s what Seldom wanted, but he didn’t want that very much. He hoped the Ruler would catch fire, which would be spectacular, and that’s exactly what happened next: hydrogen was leaking where the corona skin was ripped open—more hydrogen than any fire retardant could fight—and touched by a spark, the gas exploded. The blaze was blue on the edges and invisible inside its fierce heart, and the nearby canopy began to burn, and the ship’s cabins and fuel tanks and every giant engine too.
Seldom was so thrilled that he felt weak, almost sick. His mind started jumping, as it was known to do, and he suddenly remembered how Nissim had talked about worlds other than this world. The boy hadn’t believed the Master. Of all the things that happened today, that possibility had bothered him more than any. Yet now, wearing this seamless, effortless joy, Seldom could believe impossible ideas. Of course there were worlds past theirs, just as there were other creatures like Diamond, and not only did he embrace what a moment ago seemed ugly and impossible, but Seldom found himself half-fearing, half-wishing that somehow he could visit one of these worlds.
Wouldn’t that be a wonderful journey?
Diamond walked into the little cabin with its lightweight chairs and flexible windows and the big flanking engines, repaired and roaring. Elata gave him a sturdy hug and the Master clasped his hand.
Seldom was standing at the window with binoculars in his hands. “What happened on the Ruler?” he asked.