Chapter nineI have said it before and, if the flint sickle of Kranlil the Reaper spares me, I shall certainly say it again. Ah! To speed through the sweet air of Kregen with the breeze in your hair and the radiance of the Suns all about! Now that is living!
On and on I urged the airboat in the sheer joy of flying. South the course headed, south to perils and horrors and death around every corner.
When I felt peckish — well, more than peckish, ravenous — I looped the bight of cord around the controls, keeping the voller on an even course and speed, and went off to rummage in the provisions aboard. My lads had done me proud. There were hampers of food, and bottles, and very soon I had the fire going on its slate bed. One has to be careful of fires aboard ships either of the seas or the air
