Zachariah looked at the parts spread on the table in front of him. They looked as good

as anything he could find anywhere. Gold Bug and Knife were a good team.

“Master Baker is here, Da,” said Sola. “He wants to know if you are done.”

“Tell him I am putting the mixer back together right now,” said Zachariah. He fitted

the pieces into a whole in seconds. Then he wiped everything down so it wouldn’t be

greasy to the touch.

He wrapped the thing in paper and tied the bundle with string so it wouldn’t flop

around. He glanced at the other things he needed to work on as he took the bundle to

the foyer of their building.

It had taken some time, but they had a thriving business now. He wouldn’t have

thought it possible when he first drove the cart into Messer’s Reach. If he had a few

more machinists, he could open another shop and have someone else take some of the

work off his hands.

He smiled at that. He doubted there was really that much use for other Machinists in

the city. Maybe some day when machines were more common, but not now.

“Master Baker,” said Zachariah. “Here is your mixer.”

“Thank you,” said the heavyset customer. He took the bundle in wide hands. “What

was wrong with it?”

“One of the gears had stripped some teeth,” said Zachariah. “I had to replace the gears

and make sure they would turn together. No big deal.”

“Thank you again,” said Master Baker. He handed over a pouch of clinking coins.

“Here is your payment.”

“Thank you,” said Zachariah. He walked the man to the service entrance and told him

to come by if he had any more trouble before closing the door. He handed Sola the

pouch to be counted and put away.

She handled their finances and made sure they had enough money for food and basic

necessities.

Zachariah was not the haggler she was, and knew it. She took after her mother in that

regard.

He looked around again before retreating into his small workshop. They had done a

good job on the building. It looked brand new on the inside, and a little better than

average on the outside.

Cleaning the place up had been as simple as turning Gold Bug loose and telling him

to eat everything not wanted. By the time the daemon was through, there were

thousands of ants chewing on trash and debris. Once that was done, they used the

eaten trash to form the basis of a new roof by having the swarm extend lines across

the open areas above them. Hardy had to carry them one by one in his talons as they

laid the line.

Bolan and Knife had gone over the walls and made sure the internal supports were

taken down and replaced one by one so that the roof wouldn’t fall in on them. Then

they had cleaned the floor with some kind of spray gun Knife produced from his back.

That got a lot of the stains out almost instantly.

The rest had been dividing up the internal space so they had a big workshop for the

cart prototypes, a small workshop for any business they might have to do to support

themselves, a living area for the three of them which was divided up into personal

spaces so everyone had their own place to go when they didn’t want to talk to the

others. A small library and office space had been built in between Zachariah’s

personal rooms and the cart room so he could work on designs between jobs.

Odd jobs had started as soon as they made sure the outside was repainted white to

blend in with the rest of the neighborhood. Zachariah and Bolan had been called to

fix pumps, normal carts, broken cooking utensils, and dozens of other things. The

jobs had been easy with the help of Gold Bug and Knife. The two consulted together

just as much as their human counterparts.

And when everything was over for the day, Zachariah would go up on the roof and

watch the train go by, thinking about ways to make his own vehicle faster and more

responsive.

He had worked in some improvements so he was sure that he could set up a line to

make carts on demand. The problem was that it wasn’t faster than a horse, and the

noise of the jet scared most animals that it came close to on the road.

People using horse and oxen would not appreciate their animals fleeing from a noisy

machine. If the animals were hurt, that would be more cause for recriminations.

Zachariah turned his attention to the next thing he had to fix. Someone had broken

their best metal bowl and they wanted it put back together. He picked at the fragments

with his fingers and wondered how they had shattered something like that. He

doubted it was some kind of accident like he was told.

Maybe they had frozen it somehow and that had made the substance brittle enough

to break.

He liked that explanation but couldn’t think what could have broken the bowl other

than some kind of magic.

And he couldn’t fix anything magical.

“We’re going out, Da,” said Sola. “I’m putting the closed sign on the door so no one

bothers you while we’re gone.”

“Going out?,” said Zachariah. “Going out where?”

“The Air Race is today,” said Sola. “Hardy and I want to watch.”

“It should be spectacular,” said Bolan. “We’ll get to see some flying.”

“I forgot that was today,” said Zachariah. “I suppose we can take the cart and drive

over to the field.”

“We figured that some of the flying machines would be the equal of what we have,”

said Bolan. “If we could get a look at them, maybe that would give us some pointers

on how to improve our own machine.”

“People will be coming in from miles around to watch things,” said Sola. “We might

not be able to get on the field to see anything.”

“We’ll think of something,” said Zachariah. “Maybe you two are right. Maybe I have

been thinking too small.”

“You want to turn the cart into a flying machine?,” said Bolan. “Could we do that?”

“Yes,” said Zachariah. “It might be more dangerous, but I don’t see why the engine

wouldn’t power it across the country.”

“A real flying machine?,” asked Sola. “Can you do it?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Zachariah. “Let’s go down to the field and see what we

see.”

“This will be great,” said Bolan.

“We might not be able to equal what we see at first,” said Zachariah. “We’ll have to

judge what we can do by what’s already been done.”

“We built the cart on wild guesses and daemon spit,” said Bolan. “We can build a

flying machine if we want to do it. Do we want to do it is all we need to know.”

Zachariah nodded. Bolan was right. They had built the cart without knowing anything

except that Gold Bug could fashion things for them, and Knife and Hardy could put

it together. A flying machine would be more of the same.

He climbed behind he controls of the cart and powered it up. He turned it in the

confines of the space and pointed the nose at the outer doors. Sola and Hardy opened

the doors for him to pull out in the street. They shut the doors and Knife applied a

lock so they could leave without worrying about someone breaking in.

Zachariah waited for the children to get on board before turning and driving through

the streets. He hoped they hadn’t waited too long. The air show would be crowded

with people who wanted to fly.

He thought about modifications to the cart so he could get it higher than three feet off

the ground. It would need a lot more power in his estimation which might require a

bigger engine.

He waved at people heading in the same direction that he was. He got different types

of waves back. He gritted his teeth at the rude gestures. At least the children didn’t

know what they meant so he could conceal that much from them until they were

older.

“Up your mother’s fundament!,” shouted Bolan.

“Yeah, what he said!,” said Sola.

“What?,” said Zachariah. He looked over his shoulder. Bolan and Knife were giving

rude gestures back. Knife had a lot of extra limbs to do that. “Do you two mind?”

“No,” said Bolan. A grin covered his face. “This is the best part.”

“Stop harassing the crowd,” said Zachariah. “We’re going out to have a great day, not

shout epitaphs at strangers.”

“If you say so,” said Bolan. “I don’t see why we can’t do both.”

“They started it, Da,” said Sola.

“Does that make it right?,” said Zachariah.

“I guess not,” she said. He knew she was sulking, but there was nothing he could do

about that. He had to find a place to pull the cart so they could walk to the edge of the

field and get a spot for the show.

He expected some of the flying machines to be on the field so he could look at them.

He doubted he would be able to learn much from their designs without plans but he

should be able to guess at certain things.

And Gold Bug should be able to discern things to help with manufacturing copies of

what he did see.

Testing would be the main problem. He didn’t think he should try to send someone

up unless he was sure they wouldn’t die. He expected that the machinery might

explode if he misjudged a single piece.

He wasn’t willing to risk anyone until he was sure that they could survive a crash at

the minimum.

The three Riordianians found a place at the edge of the field. A melting pot of people

surrounded them. Everyone looked at the winged machines sitting on the grass. Some

Riordianians walked their dragons/birds/winged creatures around to get ready for the

race. An Alvas stood beside what looked like a tree. Two stumpy, barrel shaped

Wurves stood beside a giant dagger that glittered with lines along its skin.

“Looks like someone invested some magic into things,” said Zachariah. “I wonder

how it will do against the rest.”

“Why a tree?,” asked Bolan.

“I don’t know,” said Zachariah.

“Because the tree is magic,” said Sola. “I bet there is some kind of lifting spell that

picks it up and puts it down somewhere else.”

“That makes sense,” said Bolan. “But will it be fast?”

Sola shrugged. There was no telling how fast the tree or the dagger were compared

to the rest of the field. She doubted they would have entered the race if they were very

slow.

“Can everyone hear me?,” said a voice booming over the field. “This is Ronald Bell

Thrower. I need everyone to go to your machines and start your engines.”

Zachariah called Gold Bug to sit on his shoulder and watch things with him. The

insect should be able to measure things as they happened.

The pilots boarded their vehicles and animals as they waited for the announcer to

commence the starting spiel to get them into the air. Various noises erupted from the

grounded vehicles as they readied to fly.

“All right,” said Ronald. “When I give the word, you will launch according to your

number, circle the city twice, and then head for Baldwin. As soon as you check in

there, you should get some rest, refuel, and then head out for the next leg of the race

which is over Corwin’s Mansions, and then to Lobster Castle. Once you reach

Lobster Castle, you are to do two loops around the island and then head southwest to

the Crater Desert. Once you reach the checkpoint there, you are to fly to Riordiana

Harbor, then back here to the field. Pilots should keep their checkpoint tallies in hand

at all times to verify that you landed and talked to race officials. Everyone understand

the route?”

Zachariah didn’t know who he was asking. Was he asking the pilots, or the crowd?

“So they aren’t staying in the city?,” said Bolan. “How are we supposed to study

them?”

“I already am,” said Zachariah. “Do you think Knife can record what he sees for us?”

“I didn’t think of that,” said Bolan. “Knife can draw anything he can look at. That’s

how we put together Master Ryan’s red boat.”

“Better get him started,” said Zachariah. “It won’t be long before the race starts.”

Knife dropped to the ground. Its eight eyes focused on the crowd. Some of the nearby

crowd focused on it and moved away.

“We need you to do drawings of the flying machines,” said Bolan. “Can you do it?”

Knife whirred internally. A tray opened in its belly. A piece of paper showing the

assemblage on the ground fell out.

“Keep doing that until the race has started,” said Bolan. “We might need pictures of

the planes in flight too if you can do that.”

Knife chittered quietly. He slid more drawings out as the machines jostled for

position to lift off and head on the route determined by the commission.

The machines started down the field one by one, lifting off gracefully as the pilots

turned on the circle they were supposed to follow around the inner wall over the train

tracks. The daemons launched with a flap of their wings, some of them vanishing as

they made the turn and headed on the circle. The flying dagger launched from the

ground and circled amidst the other fliers. The tree was last, waiting for its number

to be called. Then the roots carried it forward like big feet, the limbs began to spin at

the top of the trunk. It floated into the air and chased after the other fliers.

Bolan picked up the pictures and smiled as he watched the colorful vehicles head out.

“I want to do that next year,” he said.