Page 31 of Carousel

“I always take it before long flights, to settle my vertigo. Wisely, I opted for a milder dose on myself today, and prepared extra – as I do, when there is possible chance of altercation.” He gives me a bashful look. “You’ll have to forgive me for not rousing faster. This stuff... It really does knock me like a plague.”

He steps over them, to the control table, and yanks up a large lever, which makes the ship waver. He grabs the wheel, which steadies it, and sits in Cosmer’s seat. We’re moving again, smoothly.

Outside, night has fallen. It’s so peaceful out there. So dark. Like a beautiful abyss.

Things Dezeeves has said to me over the course of the day stumble through my mind.

I voice my thoughts as they come to me. “You can speak a lot of languages. You know how to make a Rhavnan potion. You’re not–”

“Not very Hevallan?” Dezeeves guesses. “So I’m often told.” He says, softer, “But perhaps we can be whoever we want to be. Choose who we want to be. Regardless of our birth. Don’t you agree?”

His words sound so sagely.

It gives me an idea.

“Were you once a travelling holyman, Dezeeves?”

“Ara,” he says, with humour. “Let us trade bread, and not stories of yeast.”

I get the message. This conversation is over.

“You might want to get some rest yourself,” he suggests. “We still have over an hours’ flight time remaining. And I’m afraid, what with the rigorous schedules we must keep as soldiers, and the nature of life on a hive, there won’t be much opportunity for sleep once you are boarded.”

Just hearing the suggestion of sleep from his mouth makes me feel achingly tired. It’s as if the events and emotions of the day catch up with me all at once.

I wonder briefly whether Dezeeves isn’t a madman or a former holyman.

Maybe he’s a magician.

I’m being gently nudged.

“Ara. You might want to see this.”

The voice is familiar. The voice of a friend, I think. Should have calmed me – but it raises the hairs on the back of my neck instead.

Blinking lights fill my vision as I remember where I am. Where I’m headed. How my life has changed yet again, in ways that I could not have controlled, in such a short space of time.

I could start crying again.

But then I glimpse the world outside of the ship, and gasp.

In the distance, a golden ship – it really does look like a carousel – is suspended in the air. Even from where we are it looks enormous. I see rows and rows of portholes – I’ve only ever seen this much Lorallahan glass in one place at the Palace – and the whole domed top deck, which is topped with a mast, seems to be made of it. Cannons protrude from under the portholes on one of the higher decks, and balls of light lining the ship wink like hundreds of stars.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Took my breath away when I first saw it too. Still does.”

I look to my left. Cosmer is beside me, in Drake’s place.

I jerk from him. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“A while. Sleeping potions never last long on me.”

I watch him stretch his long legs, rake a hand through his hair, and sit back comfortably – somehow all at the same time.

Of course a sleeping potion wouldn’t work well on him. He fizzes with nervous energy.

I quickly wipe my mouth, where I can feel dribble. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Hey. There wasn’t much else to do.” He shoots a look at Dezeeves. “And he’s been no good for small talk. He’s mad at me.”