“It’s not as if we’ve got anywhere else to go,” I say, “but up.”
“Hot air rises,” Casamir says, tapping the torch. “We’ve made sacs of heated air with torches at home to scout out the upper reaches of the sky and provide transit. It’s a possible thing.”
“You’re kidding,” I say.
“I never joke about science.”
“I doubt a backpack full of air is going to be enough to carry me up,” I say. “Even if we can get one of these airtight.”
Casamir gestures to the sea. “We’ve seen that those things have got sacs they use to surface,” she says. “We can use those.”
“They’d need to be butchered and dried and—”
“I did say labor-intensive,” Casamir says.
“Well,” I say, and sigh, because nothing here is ever easy. “You want us to go back in and fish that thing out, don’t you?”
“Sorry?” she says.
“Better than being stuck here.”
We head back into the boat.
“THE SECRET TO LEADERSHIP IS NOT TO BE A PARTICULARLY INTELLIGENT PERSON. IT IS TO SURROUND ONESELF WITH THOSE FAR SMARTER THAN ONESELF. AND TRY NOT TO KILL THEM.”
—LORD MOKSHI, ANNALS OF THE LEGION
27
ZAN
Hauling and drying out the creature is a massive undertaking. I’m not sure Casamir realized what an ordeal it would be. But there are four of us and one creature, and nowhere else to go but up. We make neat work of it.
When it is done, I’m still not convinced this is going to be successful. I sit down on the beach and wipe my face on my sleeve as Casamir stuffs the torch into the end of the animal’s sac.
We wait. Casamir seems utterly confident. She crouches next to the thing, muttering to herself. Arankadash is already asleep a few paces away, probably the smartest one of us. Das Muni is still picking her way up the beach, putting shiny baubles into her pocket.
I’m not sure when I first notice the bag inflating. It seems like an age has gone by. But there it is, sure enough: a rippling there at the end of the organ.
Casamir claps her hands and comes over. “It’ll be a while,” she says. “Let’s eat.”
We sit down to eat and watch the organ slowly inflate. Above us, the canopy of green fungi shifts color again. I fear another rain of little snake creatures, but there’s nothing this time, only a dimming of the light.
“You still up for going this far?” I ask Casamir.
She leans back on her elbows, grins. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Wait until they hear about it back home. No one has gone this far.” She gazes up at the halo of light.
“Maybe there is a reason for that,” Arankadash says, sitting down next to us. She rifles through Casamir’s pack for an apple and peels away the outer skin. I wonder why I haven’t thought to do that yet.
“Don’t be superstitious,” Casamir says.
Arankadash says, “Not everything can be explained with the mind. There are larger things than our mind, things so great we cannot comprehend them.”
“Believing that is what keeps the mind weak,” Casamir says.
“I know only what I’ve seen,” I say, “and I’ve seen other worlds just like this one, hundreds of them, hanging in the darkness.”
“Well, you’re mad,” Casamir says, “but I’m getting used to you.”
“It’s no madder than this idea,” Arankadash says, nodding to the half-inflated balloon.
“It’s simple science,” Casamir says. “Hot air rises. You’ve never made a paper lantern?”
“What’s paper?” Arankadash says.
“It’s so strange,” I say, “that we all live in the same place, but everything is so different from place to place.”
“Not really,” Casamir says. “If everything is the same, we wouldn’t be living in a free society. It would be a tyranny. Who wants to live in a hierarchy? When you have hierarchy, someone always has to be at the bottom. I can’t live comfortably, knowing someone is always suffering so I can have more.”
“Maybe you’d be at the top,” Arankadash says. “The priests get more resources in our city. They do important work.”
“I can’t speak for everyone, obviously,” Casamir says, rolling her eyes.
Arankadash snorts and finishes the apple. “You tinkers, always thinking you’re so much better. If we didn’t kill the mutants before they stormed your level, you would all die of stupidity. You cannot even pick up a club.”
Casamir says, “It’s not a club getting us up there to see what happened to your child, is it?”
Arankadash says nothing.
“Sorry,” Casamir says.
I glance at Arankadash. “You’re coming with us?” I say. Had she told Casamir this when I was asleep? When did she decide this?
She gazes up at the hole in the sky. “I want to know,” she says. “I want to know what happens to our children. What happened . . . to my child.”
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to get back,” I say.
“I have nothing to go back for,” Arankadash says. “I want to know what’s up there.” She gets up. “You sleep,” she says. “I’ll keep watch.” She does not look at Casamir as she walks away, back into the halo of light.
“I’m not trying to be mean,” Casamir says.
“Intent doesn’t always matter,” I say.
She’s still trying to talk to me as I doze off. Sometimes it’s just best to let her ramble.
It’s Arankadash who wakes me. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but the fungi overhead are brilliant green again, and I see the pale, billowing form of the ballooned organ behind her. It squirms like a fat maggot, still rippling as it inflates.
Casamir is by its side, counting off the rope again. She holds tight to it, though it’s tied off behind her on a jagged piece of metal jutting up from the beach.
“Something wrong?” I ask Arankadash.
It’s Casamir who answers. “I’m not sure it’s going to hold me,” she says.
I walk over. “It’s not full yet. Maybe—”
Casamir shakes her head. “I’m too heavy,” she says. “We’ll need to . . . I don’t know, construct a second balloon, maybe sew it to this one?”
“Sew it with what?” I say.
She is gnawing on her lip, which I haven’t seen her do before.
I glance over at Arankadash. We are both far larger than Casamir. I’m broader and taller, and though Arankadash is leaner than me, she’s much taller than I am. If the balloon won’t hold Casamir, it won’t hold either of us.
“What about Das Muni?” I say.
“What?” Casamir says. The look she gives me tells me she didn’t even consider that option.
“Das Muni’s half your weight,” I say. “She can get up there.”
“And the rest of us?” Arankadash says.
“Casamir?” I say.
She shakes her head. “I don’t . . . a pulley, maybe? But that’s complicated. We can rig another line to the balloon. She gets it up there, puts it over something, and from down here, we can help pull up another person. Might save us some climbing time. Honestly, that’s so far up, I’m not sure I can even do it on my own, just climbing.”