CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

The chill night might’ve killed Henry’s good mood had he not flown thousands of feet above ground. A month had passed between the moment he’d bade goodbye to the Lenz Balloon and the one he was allowed to launch it back into the skies. It had felt like years. After Kinsi had abandoned him in that tasteless courtball pub, time in Reverence seemed to stretch on, endless and unforgiving. He could not go out unless necessary and he spent most of his time in idle thumb twirling.

He used to waste entire days sitting around in Ferrea, staring at the ceiling and reminiscing about his father or the Races, but he could no longer bear it. He grew restless, paced through the numerous tiny rooms of Treysh’s apartments, and sought a task to accomplish. Anything to busy himself and fill his mind. At first he tried to help Andeal repair the transmitter, but it ended with the engineer snapping at him, disgruntled and annoyed.

Treysh noticed, however, and invited him deeper into her dangerous world. Every day after breakfast, Treysh locked herself in a room and disappeared until dinner. They only knew she was alive by the occasional small explosion, the repeated curses and, once, by the foul-smelling fumes that’d slipped out the crack under her door. Henry had sworn never to go near that place. He preferred to remain in one piece.

She asked him if he wanted to see her projects one afternoon, after Andeal had suggested Henry glue himself to a chair and stop disturbing his work. The gleeful glint in her eyes as she offered to show him killed his resolve. He agreed, eager to see his painful boredom come to an end, but as a large grin spread on the chemist’s face, he realized the full extent of his mistake. The last time she’d smiled like that, she’d blown up a door.

She led him into a full-blown laboratory, lit by a series of white neons. In the middle stood a huge wooden table where beakers and vials shared the space with alcohol burners and a dozen petri dishes. Each of the latter contained a different metallic powder, some dark gray while others had a brownish tint. An old sink lay against the left wall and a second, long table occupied the back of the room. Gift-wrapping paper had taken over its surface while long rockets and cone-shaped fuses rested beneath. Posters with weird symbols and equations plastered the right wall.

“This,” Treysh said with a grand gesture at the room, “is my fireworks factory! Here, let me show you.”

She hurried to the closest alcohol burner and lit it as Henry examined the crazy setup, slack-jawed. Wasn’t such an installation illegal? Like that would ever stop Treysh.

“Come on, come closer. It won’t explode, I promise.”

“I bet you always say that.”

He stepped forward anyway. Amusement danced in her eyes.

“Near enough. My favorite times are when I don’t have to say it, though. Nothing like a good boom to pep up your day.” She tapped the petri dishes with her fingers, her excitement barely contained, and selected the one marked with Cu. “You know what’s marvelous about nature? How colorful it is. This is copper, you see, and it looks rather dull. But watch.”

She picked up a curved metal spatula, dipped it in the copper powder, and brought it over the burner’s flame. In an instant it turned from warm orange to emerald green. Henry let out a soft whistle.

“Is that how you dye your hair? Copper?”

Treysh’s bright laughter filled the room and she extinguished her burner. “No. It’s what I put in the fireworks, though. I’m afraid my hair’s green color is nothing so fantastic. I buy it as is.”

“Here I thought everything about you was extraordinary.” He’d meant to tease, but the words escaped his lips with a serious and complimentary tone. She smiled at him and set her spatula down as heat rushed to Henry’s cheeks. What was he thinking? And how had he ever found the courage to let that slip? He cursed himself for a blundering fool and cast himself upon the first other topic he could find. “How did you know so much about the Radio Tower?”

“I used to sneak inside all the time. I dated Kevin, their main announcer, and visited him when he worked late. At first I got caught but since he always defended me, I used the occasion to really explore.” Her grin reappeared, and she added: “Getting in and out unseen was more fun than he ever was!”

Henry mumbled a smattering of words then stopped, too stunned to continue. The announcer? The man with a drawling voice who droned on for days, repeating the same insipid news without a trace of energy? Poor him. If he liked his life as tranquil as his tone, Treysh might’ve scared him out of relationships forever. She noticed his astonishment and waved it away.

“I know. I was silly at the time.”

He tried not to laugh, but as he pictured his green-haired, explosive companion with the most dull, commonplace man he could imagine, a wild fit of laughter took over. Treysh joined in and soon they both held their pained ribs, one hand on the table so they wouldn’t fall. He forgot about his worries—the recording, his disheartening reunion with Kinsi, his continuous boredom—and had, for the first time since landing in Reverence, a moment of true respite.

Once they recovered their seriousness, Treysh proceeded to explain what kind of fireworks each rocket held. He remembered little of it, had been more absorbed by her than her words, but even today, as a chill wind pierced his coat and pushed their balloon around, he snickered at the thought of Treysh dating the radio announcer.

A stronger gust forced Andeal to interrupt his current broadcast and brought Henry back to reality. He hated to waste fuel, but they couldn’t remain at this altitude.

“Give me a sec,” he told his friend as he pushed the gas levers and bright, warm flames burst into life.

Andeal sat cross-legged at the bottom of the balloon, microphone in hand. He turned and scolded him. “You ought to be quicker. You can’t let wind interrupt me all the time.”

Henry bit back a remark as they reached a higher altitude and the wind stopped. Andeal returned to his broadcast without another word. Henry waited, tapping the basket with his fingers in an attempt to contain his frustration. They’d left Treysh once the receiver was repaired. Ever since, his friend had been ill-tempered and prone to snapping. It had lasted long enough. Henry had no intention to endure his moods and, when Andeal hung up, he stepped forward.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

Andeal cast one piercing glance up then wrapped the microphone in its protective waxed paper. “What’s wrong? What makes you think anything is wrong?”

Henry had to fight not to laugh. If he could see it, it meant something was obviously, terribly wrong.

“Since we’ve left, you’ve been in turn angry and brooding and…and mean!”

“Mean?” A smile reached Andeal’s lips, but it curled into a sneer. He assembled his broadcast gear, put it back into their protective bags, and sprung to his feet.

“You heard me,” Henry said.

His friend strode past him and knelt in front of the storage chest, shoving the sack inside. As his hands grabbed the lid’s two corners, however, he stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Henry’s stomach churned, uncertain this confrontation had been such a good idea after all.

“I want to be somewhere safe, with Maniel.” He snapped the lid shut. “Instead I’m here, with…”

His voice trailed off, but Andeal didn’t need to complete his sentence for Henry to understand. He clenched his fists and beat back the anger. As much as it hurt, he realized he could not replace Maniel. Henry stomped down his pride to try to lift his friend’s spirit.

“Did I mention mean?” he asked in a weak, joking tone before crouching next to Andeal. “Listen, if I could make her magically appear in this balloon, I would. Since it’s out of my very considerable power, however, you’ll have to work your way around it. Sulking won’t help. I spent a decade trying this technique and it never made my father reappear.”

“Your father was dead.”

Henry’s mouth opened but he found no easy reply. He ought to think more before he spoke and implied horrible things.

“And Maniel isn’t,” he said. “Union’s Day is but a few months away. You’ll see her soon enough.”

Andeal laid back at the bottom of their basket and stared at the extinguished burner and the envelope’s inside. “If only I could know for sure…”

Henry mumbled an agreement then changed the subject. He had nothing to offer but platitudes now, and he had a feeling Andeal would bounce back to his usual self anyhow. He’d lived through two years of torture and built another life for himself. How could he not survive three months without his wife?

Or maybe he’d managed so well after the lab because Maniel was there.

Henry sighed. “You never explained why you called it The Noodle Show.”

“The look you gave me was priceless,” Andeal said. “That’s not all, though. Galen’s news are like your noodles. Easy to make, they fill you up but don’t do much for your health—or mind, as far as the news are concerned.”

Henry’s mouth hung half-opened for a moment. He used to love the noodles. They’d always been there, cheap and easy to access. Reassuring.

“I can’t believe you’d say that,” he said with a pout.

Andeal chuckled, then shrugged and fell silent again. He wasn’t out of his strange mood yet. Henry had no idea what to do about it, except wait.

With a sigh, he straightened and checked the balloon’s altitude again. The helium contracted, its upward pull diminishing when the sun vanished, and this night’s winds contributed to lowering its temperature. Since he had no desire to be awakened by the basket skimming treetops, he gave the burner’s levers another push. Two beautiful flames shot up, sending a wave of pure warmth down on them and heating the balloon. The altimeter’s needle inched upward. Henry waited until they had a few extra hundred feet then released the burners. His heart pinched when the flames vanished. He wished he had borrowed some of Treysh’s copper, to throw into them. He missed her silliness. She would waste their fuel for the spectacle it offered, even if they needed it.

Henry hoped she was okay, back in Reverence, and that no one had linked her to their break-in at the National Radio Tower. They should have brought a radio receiver with them to keep an eye on the fabricated news.

“Henry?” Andeal had propped himself up on one elbow. A soft smile curled his lips, barely visible in their lamp’s dim light. “Maybe I’m wrong about the noodles. I think I’ll try it your way and munch on them until I feel better.”

“Go ahead, take mine.” He’d be glad if Andeal ate through his noodles. He was still attached to them, had brought the pile with him, but he hadn’t had the heart to eat a single pack since his short evening with Kinsi. The crispy instant meal reminded him of a time now gone, and the memories knotted his stomach up every time. “You can have the whole stack, if you want.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to eat instant noodles again.