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still occurred then, one that stunned Finn above the rest. A large balloon exploded, its fabric set ablaze. Finn covered his eyes from the blast as a gaseous ball of fire blossomed nearby.
    Before it was done, he counted nine of the monsters down. There was no way to tell how many men had perished as well.
    “Have you—have you ever seen this happen before,” Finn said, staring at Bucerius. “Whales and Nails, it's not
always
like this, is it?”
    “Isn't bad. I be seein’ worse.”
    “Worse?”
    “Trouble is, there be plenty of
bold
balloon pilots, but there isn't no
old
balloon pilots. If a captain don't die his first trip, he don't be ever signin’ on again.”
    “You seem to make it, all right.”
    “I be a business person. I'm not some kinda fool what's fightin’ in a war.”
    Bucerius looked at Finn with a mix of scorn and pride. “War be for human persons. Killin’ be what they like to do.”
    “There are many brave Newlies who have joined our forces to fight with valor in the war.” “Uh-huh. They be stupid, too.”
    And that, it appeared, was that.
    AS IF ON SOME SILENT SIGNAL, THE CLUSTER OF merchant balloons rose higher still, higher than they'd risen before. Finn peered over the side and saw the reason why. There, far below, lay the dread, desolate province once known as Melonius. The only dry land in the midst of the Swamp of Bleak Demise, it was now the battleground where warriors from Prince Aghen Aghenfleck and the King of Heldessia, met to slaughter one another as they had for seven hundred thirty-nine years.
    Finn was glad they had risen so high. The balloons of Fyxedia and those of her foe, which had just arrived from the west, were disgorging their troops on the bare and blackened ground—those that had survived the journey there. The gaily decked officers and somber-clad men were much too far away to appear more than blotches to Finn's eye, and he was most grateful for that.
    Beyond, the swamp took hold again, and, past that, the onset of the night.
    “I see the sun is nearly gone,” Finn said. “We can hardly have more than an hour more of light. Where will we stay for the night?”
    “What?” The Bullie scratched the little nubs where horns had appeared among his kind in the past.
    “Where would you
like
to stay, different from where you bein’ now?”
    “Why, down there somewhere, of course. Surely you wouldn't attempt to sail this device in the—in the dark?”
    Finn felt a sudden chill, for he could see the answer in the Bullie's glassy brown eyes.
    “No, truly, that makes little sense at all. We can't very well remain aloft unless we can see… “
    “An’ what'd you like to do? Set ‘er down there among that poor lot? By damn, if you'd stop thinkin’ ‘bout your Mycer lass, you'd see what be a'happenin’ outside your fuzzy head… “

 

FOURTEEN
     
    T HE MOMENT THE SUN VANISHED UNDER A purple haze, two frightening things occurred. First, the dark flowed in so quickly, Finn felt some heavenly scribe must have spilled his ink across the skies. And, with the coming of night, the breeze that had driven them steadily from morning's light suddenly disappeared.
    Bucerius’ balloon began to sink like a stone. Finn drew in a desperate breath and held on tight, waiting for the dreadful impact with the ground.
    Why hadn't the Bullie mentioned they'd never had a chance at all? That would have been the proper thing to do.
    Instead, the fellow grabbed Finn's shoulders, bellowed out instructions that nearly left him deaf in one ear.
    In an instant, he was tossing out sandbags as quickly as he could, watching the ground rise rapidly in the dark. Behind him, Bucerius was yanking at his infernal array of lines, shrouds, pulleys and vents, actions which seemed to have no effect at all.
    Then, of a sudden, all was well again. They weren't moving fast, and they surely weren't sailing very high, but they were still in the air and not crushed upon the ground.
    “Would you mind,”