CH175 · Rewrite
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Chapter 175: Hot Air Balloon Tour

The principle was simple. The engineering had taken a week.

The airbag needed to be airtight: three layers, canvas over cattle-intestine membrane over gauze, sewn together in overlapping strips that took two people and a great deal of patience. The burning problem Roland had solved by not having a burning problem — Anna’s flame could maintain whatever temperature he needed without fuel, without smoke, without the ground-anchored furnace apparatus that made the first hot air balloons in his original world so unwieldy. Without Anna, the whole project would have required a logistics chain he didn’t yet have. With her, it was an afternoon’s work to inflate.

He propped open the bag’s lower mouth and she poured heat into it — not the black filament, just ordinary fire, precise and controlled, warming the interior air to the point where buoyancy began to assert itself. The bag swelled slowly, the wrinkled canvas going taut, the ropes at the neck straightening as the structure found its shape. It looked, in the deflated middle stages, improbably domestic — like a very large piece of bread rising.

“Hot air rises because the particles expand,” Anna said, watching the bag fill. “The volume increases, the density decreases, and the surrounding cold air is denser, so the balloon is pushed up.”

“Yes.” Roland looked around at the other three witches, who were watching with varying degrees of comprehension. Nightingale had the expression of someone who had decided not to ask questions until absolutely necessary. Lightning looked like she already understood and was impatient for the result. Maggie looked like she was waiting to see if it would be edible.

The ropes went taut. The basket lifted an inch from the courtyard stones, then two.

“I should go first,” Nightingale said.

“We’ll be fine,” Roland said. “Lightning’s watching.”

“I won’t let them fall,” Lightning said, patting her chest.

And me,” said Maggie, lifting her wings briefly.

He stepped into the basket and helped Anna in after him — she gripped the rattan rim with both hands, looking down at the shrinking courtyard with an expression that was surprise and delight in roughly equal measure — and the rope went out and up, and the castle roof dropped away below them, and then the whole town opened up in every direction, grey-walled and geometric and alive with the movement of its people.

The hemp tether was fifty meters. At the limit of the line the basket stopped climbing and rocked gently in the breeze. Anna reduced the flame to a holding temperature. Below them, Lightning was already orbiting in lazy figure-eights, Maggie a pale shape beside her.

Anna was looking at everything.

She had released the rim at some point without noticing and was leaning forward over the edge of the basket, and Roland stayed quiet and let her look. The Redwater River ran west to east, a dark curve. The farmland on the far bank was the particular green of this season, uneven and vivid. The castle’s roof tiles were weathered to a comfortable grey below their feet. The construction in the new district — the straight lines of foundations, the half-finished walls — was visible in its geometry from up here in a way it wasn’t from the ground.

She drew back and sat down.

“Thank you,” she said, and her voice had something in it that was not quite done processing the altitude. “It turns out even I can fly this high.”

“Higher,” Roland said, sitting beside her. “If the tether were longer. Ten times higher is possible, but the airvents up there are less predictable. The balloon isn’t stable enough yet.” He looked up at the blue overhead. He had been thinking about this problem for some time, not because it was urgent but because it was the direction. “This is the beginning. Piston engine, internal combustion — eventually, an aircraft that doesn’t need a tether. When that exists, even people without powers can fly anywhere in the world.”

He didn’t say: and after that, farther. He had thought it so many times it had started to lose its weight. He let the thought stand without speaking it.

Anna was watching his face.

“I would never have expected,” she said, after a moment, “that my fire could make something like this.”

“You’ve made most of what Border Town has.”

“Not just this.” She was quiet for a moment, working toward something. “My mother died in a fire. I was not burned, which should have been impossible — I was a witch, and I didn’t know. For a long time I believed my awakening had started the fire. That I was the cause.” She said it evenly, not with the weight of grief but with the particular lightness of things that have been thought through completely. “When I was imprisoned I thought: this is how I can make it end. And then you came.”

She looked at the horizon. The Concealing Forest, dark and indifferent on the north.

“I have been thinking,” she said, “that my way of thinking has already changed. Sometimes—” A pause. An honest pause, the kind that wasn’t finding words but deciding whether to say them. “Sometimes I want more than I expected to want. And I feel guilty about wanting it, which is strange, because I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Her hand found his arm.

“Even so,” she said, “do you still want to hire me?”

Her blue eyes were the same blue as the sky behind her, and the light was direct on her face, and she was watching him with the particular clarity of someone who had decided not to look away. He could feel her heartbeat through her hand, faster than the altitude required.

He started to answer.

She kissed him before he finished.

When they separated: “I want to hire you,” Roland said, “all the way.”

“Okay,” she said, and he leaned forward and closed the rest of the distance.


Below the basket, Maggie stopped chasing Lightning and hovered in the air.

“They sat down,” she said. “I can’t see them anymore.”

Lightning looked back. Looked away. “They sat down.”

“But the view—”

“They can see the view another time.” Lightning caught Maggie in both arms and tossed her upward. “Now it’s your turn to run. I’m counting to five.”

Goo?

“My father,” Lightning said — and at the word father her voice acquired its particular careful weight — “the greatest explorer who ever lived, told me that some things should not be interrupted.” She let Maggie find her wings. “You’ll understand what it is when you’re older. Now fly.”

Maggie fled. Lightning followed, grinning, into the wide blue afternoon.

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