1633880583 (F) by Chris Willrich Read Free Book Online Page A

concerned. In such matters he was as stern as any sea-captain. Bone never considered doing anything but heading out to brave wind, fire, and the potential of a precipitous fall.
    “Snow Pine,” he heard Haytham saying, “The scroll. I need Walking Stick . . .”
    Just as Bone was leaving the ger, Bone saw Snow Pine pull a rolled-up landscape painting of the Far East from her Karvak deel. She bowed her head against it, her lips murmuring.
    But he did not have time to watch the result. Now he was on the gondola’s roof, grabbing a rope leading to the gas envelope. The gas in question was merely hot air, not some exotic concoction from Haytham’s experiments (which was good, since he’d seen such gases explode) but an envelope fire was still perilous, as it could ruin the canvas beyond repair.
    What was burning so far was a tiny stretch of rope and a bamboo fastening, so Bone had hopes of quenching it. A few more inches . . . he twined himself with his legs, opened the flask, and splashed. But at the last moment a fresh spark hit the balloon, the constructs’ aim perhaps enhanced by the bright spot already there. His aim thrown off, Bone failed to extinguish the first small fire, and a second tiny light appeared upon the canvas itself.
    Desperately he removed his deel and smothered the first fire, but he could not reach the second.
    A blur of motion passed him.
    The thief looked up to see a most bizarre sight, even for the career of Imago Bone. A black-robed man stood upon the envelope far from any rope, his body angled nearly sideways, in defiance of gravity. In the moonlight, embroidered white, spindly insects gleamed upon the black, except in one spot, over the man’s heart, where there was only darkness. As for the rest, Bone could only make out a bald head and a moustache as straight and severe as Haytham’s was coiled. He could envision the scowl perfectly well, however.
    “You people!” Walking Stick snapped in the tongue of distant Qiangguo, even as he splashed water upon the envelope. The spark went out, but a fresh attack lit a few more. “You persist in wrecking everything while I’m away. Toss me that coat if you’re done with it!”
    Bone, who knew both the language and the polite forms of address Walking Stick was ignoring, answered, “It’s quite windy, Master Walking Stick! This foolish young one’s feeble throw may go wild!”
    “Quit the sarcasm, greatest second-story man of the Spiral Sea! You know full well I can catch anything you can throw!”
    Bone tossed the smoking deel, doing his best. As promised the wind sucked it almost out of reach, and as promised Walking Stick snagged it with a sweeping kick. The elite wulin warrior of Qiangguo commenced tackling the sparks as though it were a clumsy foe, shouting, “I know also that I’m younger than you, thief, for all that an enchantment kept you youthful!”
    “Those years are done!” Bone reminded him, as he struggled to shift guide ropes and help the wulin. “Decrepitude is surely on its way!”
    “Never assume you’ll receive the status of old age, Bone! It must be earned! And many things may cut your life short! Fire, for example . . .”
    “They just hit the other side. . . .”
    Just as Bone was beginning to bellow for an emergency landing, however, the efrit below took action.
    Fire whipped out of the gondola’s opening, and Bone’s first assumption was that Haboob had decided to end his service early. Yet when the magical flames hit the natural ones, the latter flowed into the former, leaving only smoke behind.
    “My,” Bone said.
    “Indeed,” Walking Stick said. “Whatever Haytham has arranged, I approve.” He grunted. “Conditionally. They appear to have stopped shooting at us. However, I hear several tiny leaks.”
    Bone, who prided himself on his hearing, said, “I do not.”
    “You are not of the wulin.”
    “Well, if they’re tiny we’ll still escape.”
    “You will not escape laboring with