he said, hovering so close to the brass-trimmed salon porthole that the bars of his flying birdcage touched the thick glass. “We’re done for now.”Meralda pretended not to hear. The ground fell away. The lights and crowds gathered for the early evening launch in the Park shrank, slowly disappearing as the Intrepid calmly turned her face eastward.Three bells rang, filling Meralda’s cabin with sound.“Three bells, three hundred feet,” Mug reported, as if she didn’t know what the bells meant. “Still not too late to steal the flying launch and sneak home.”Meralda stood perfectly still, trying to discern any hint of movement, but the Intrepid’s gentle ascent was subtle and steady.Mug turned half of his eyes downward. “Look at those lucky wights waving and jumping.”Meralda turned away from the porthole. She’d watched Donchen wave sadly before vanishing into the crowd, well before the Intrepid cast off her lines. He had left before he had to watch her go. Thirty-four days to cross the Great Sea.
