flared out like that of a blunderbuss. “They discharge a burst of sound that will render any opponent unconscious,” he explained. “The Zull do not kill.”
I slipped my “sound gun” into its holster and belted it around my waist. Clarissa and Colonel Spearjab followed suit.
Artellokas crossed to a bench, picked up a long, heavy object wound with material, then returned and handed it to me. I unwrapped it to reveal a beautifully crafted scabbard in which a perfectly balanced sword was sheathed.
“This Zull awareness of the needs of others, and willingness to provide for them, will never cease to amaze me,” I exclaimed, for I’d been feeling strangely naked without a blade at my hip.
Next, Artellokas produced three objects consisting of tangled belts and skins. He led us outside and asked me to extend my “forelimbs.” I held my arms out sideways. Artellokas slipped the belts around me and affixed them until I was tightly harnessed. The skin drooped down my back like a cape. He directed my attention to a large metal disk at the point where the straps crossed my chest.
“Slide a digit upward across it.”
I did so. The skin instantly inflated and, with a yell of surprise, I began to float into the air.
Clarissa laughed as I kicked wildly, struggling to regain my balance.
“What ho! What ho!” Colonel Spearjab bellowed. “Hup-hup!”
Artellokas floated up to me. “Slowly slide a digit down the control.”
I did so and gradually lost altitude.
“Cover it with your hand,” he said.
The action brought me to a halt about six feet from the ground.
“Slide up to go higher. Slide down to sink lower. Tap to go fast. Press to slow down. Cover to stop. Touch the top edge to go forward, the bottom edge to go backward, the right edge to go right, the left edge to go left.”
I experimented as directed and was soon shooting about, unable to resist the temptation to holler in delight. In no time at all, I felt I’d mastered the contraption, though when I tried to land, I found myself stumbling to my knees and skidding to an undignified halt in front of Clarissa.
“Splendid!” I cried as she assisted me to my feet. “Simply marvellous, Artellokas!”
“You feel the need to engage with the enemy,” he said. “This will allow you to fight alongside us.”
Clarissa and the colonel eagerly donned their harnesses and were soon flitting about overhead with many an exhilarated scream and bawled, “What! What!”
We practised until we considered ourselves proficient, then left Artellokas and raced each other home, where we were met by Gallokomas and a large flock of Zull. Without further ado, we all set out for New Yatsillat.
It was now that I—like my companions—discovered how clumsy a flier I was, for the Zull appeared incapable of maintaining a straight line, instead swooping and darting around and about one another in such a dizzying fashion that I began to lose track of up and down. Whatever instinct allowed them to avoid collisions was sadly lacking in me, and my attempts to emulate it caused nothing but trouble. Had I maintained a steady course, all would have been well, but every time a Zull swept close to me, I couldn’t help but try to steer clear, and in doing so inevitably bumped into another, losing my balance and becoming thoroughly upended. For the initial part of the flight, I tumbled and spun through the air like a leaf in a tempest. Had I been stable enough to look for Clarissa and Colonel Spearjab, I’d have seen them in similar straits.
I was becoming thoroughly queasy when a couple of Zull came to my assistance and, by grasping my legs and holding me steady—refusing to let me dodge this way and that as was my wont—soon had me convinced that no one was going to collide with me. Finally, I was able to fly smoothly and unaided, and saw that my friends had benefitted from similar attention.
The flock proceeded in a westerly direction, and the sun, now swollen to even more gigantic dimensions, glared directly into our eyes. We first passed over the hilly and forested land that stretched between the eyries and the Shrouded Mountains. The shadowed valleys below were cut through with streams and rivers, which, reflecting the crimson sky, reminded me of the rivulets of blood I’d seen trickling between the cobbles of Buck’s Row, causing me to wonder whether Jack the Ripper was still at his grisly work in London.