The Stars Are Legion(73)

“Well, you’re mad,” Casamir says, “but I’m getting used to you.”

“It’s no madder than this idea,” Arankadash says, nodding to the half-inflated balloon.

“It’s simple science,” Casamir says. “Hot air rises. You’ve never made a paper lantern?”

“What’s paper?” Arankadash says.

“It’s so strange,” I say, “that we all live in the same place, but everything is so different from place to place.”

“Not really,” Casamir says. “If everything is the same, we wouldn’t be living in a free society. It would be a tyranny. Who wants to live in a hierarchy? When you have hierarchy, someone always has to be at the bottom. I can’t live comfortably, knowing someone is always suffering so I can have more.”

“Maybe you’d be at the top,” Arankadash says. “The priests get more resources in our city. They do important work.”

“I can’t speak for everyone, obviously,” Casamir says, rolling her eyes.

Arankadash snorts and finishes the apple. “You tinkers, always thinking you’re so much better. If we didn’t kill the mutants before they stormed your level, you would all die of stupidity. You cannot even pick up a club.”

Casamir says, “It’s not a club getting us up there to see what happened to your child, is it?”

Arankadash says nothing.

“Sorry,” Casamir says.

I glance at Arankadash. “You’re coming with us?” I say. Had she told Casamir this when I was asleep? When did she decide this?

She gazes up at the hole in the sky. “I want to know,” she says. “I want to know what happens to our children. What happened . . . to my child.”

“I’m not sure you’ll be able to get back,” I say.

“I have nothing to go back for,” Arankadash says. “I want to know what’s up there.” She gets up. “You sleep,” she says. “I’ll keep watch.” She does not look at Casamir as she walks away, back into the halo of light.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Casamir says.

“Intent doesn’t always matter,” I say.

She’s still trying to talk to me as I doze off. Sometimes it’s just best to let her ramble.

It’s Arankadash who wakes me. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but the fungi overhead are brilliant green again, and I see the pale, billowing form of the ballooned organ behind her. It squirms like a fat maggot, still rippling as it inflates.

Casamir is by its side, counting off the rope again. She holds tight to it, though it’s tied off behind her on a jagged piece of metal jutting up from the beach.

“Something wrong?” I ask Arankadash.

It’s Casamir who answers. “I’m not sure it’s going to hold me,” she says.

I walk over. “It’s not full yet. Maybe—”

Casamir shakes her head. “I’m too heavy,” she says. “We’ll need to . . . I don’t know, construct a second balloon, maybe sew it to this one?”

“Sew it with what?” I say.

She is gnawing on her lip, which I haven’t seen her do before.

I glance over at Arankadash. We are both far larger than Casamir. I’m broader and taller, and though Arankadash is leaner than me, she’s much taller than I am. If the balloon won’t hold Casamir, it won’t hold either of us.

“What about Das Muni?” I say.

“What?” Casamir says. The look she gives me tells me she didn’t even consider that option.

“Das Muni’s half your weight,” I say. “She can get up there.”

“And the rest of us?” Arankadash says.

“Casamir?” I say.

She shakes her head. “I don’t . . . a pulley, maybe? But that’s complicated. We can rig another line to the balloon. She gets it up there, puts it over something, and from down here, we can help pull up another person. Might save us some climbing time. Honestly, that’s so far up, I’m not sure I can even do it on my own, just climbing.”

“So, we’ll put together more rope,” I say.

“You want to leave her up there alone?” Arankadash says, low. I look for Das Muni. She is sitting far down on the beach, hugging her knees to her chest.

“She can do it,” I say. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

“It’s not her strength that concerns me,” Arankadash says.

“I have more reason to trust her than you,” I say. “Yet here we are.”

Arankadash huffs out a breath of displeasure.

“All right,” Casamir says. “We’ll get more rope.”

Making rope takes a lot of time, but when it’s done and Casamir has explained the pulley to Das Muni, we tie her into a makeshift harness made of rope and hook her to the balloon.

As I check the knots, I say quietly, “Are you sure you can do this?”

She nods. She gazes at me with her big, glassy eyes. Her large ears twitch in the folds of her cowl. “I would do anything for you,” she says softly.

“Don’t do it for me,” I say. “Do it for you.”

“All right,” she says.

I cannot bear her looking at me, so I step away. Nod at Casamir.