Diana Wynne Jones’s Fantastical Journeys Collection. Diana Wynne Jones

pink and said nothing more. Ivar, who would have laughed loudly at anyone else, looked at her sympathetically. “I can see it’s an art,” he said. I found I still seethed a little at that.

      Ogo went on asking things, but the question I chiefly remember was when we were eating piles of pancakes covered with jam and honey for dessert. Ogo said, “Do you ever get snow here?”

      “Not often,” the Dominie said and, typically of a teacher, went on, “Gallis lies in a warm air current from the southern ocean, you see.”

      “But when it does snow,” Ogo said, “what do the bards do?”

      “Oh, they get really busy,” Rees said, laughing. “They swarm around singing it all thick and white and picturesque, with beautiful icicles on every waterfall.”

      “Not on my farm, they don’t,” Bran said, and he and the priest exchanged slightly grim looks. I could see that he and the priest disagreed about the activities of the bards.

      All through the meal, Wenda had been looking at Aunt Beck in a deep, thoughtful way. “This is quite a strange spell she’s under,” she said to me. “But I’ll see what I can do.” And, when supper was done, she took Aunt Beck away somewhere else in the house. The Dominie and the priest left as if this were a signal and the rest of us helped the maidservants clear away. While these girls sat down for their supper, Bran sent Brent to bed and led all the rest of us into a small parlour. Someone had lit a fire there as if we were expected. Plug-Ugly padded after us and laid himself down in the warmth again.

      “Right, Rees,” Bran said. “Are you set on this?”

      “More than ever,” Rees replied. He had – somehow – come alight. I could see he had been holding himself in ever since we first saw him, and from probably before that.

      If Aunt Beck had been there and in her right mind, she would have said something like, He’s been hiding his light under a bushel, hasn’t he? Now he was himself. His eyes shone and he sat as if he were ready to leap out of his chair.

      “What I’m going to talk about is something very secret,” he said. “The priests would call it ungodly.”

      Finn shifted about as he sat. “Are we in a conspiracy then?” he asked. Green Greet leant down from Finn’s shoulder to stare into his face.

      “Yes, I think so,” Rees said. Blodred suddenly popped out from under his collar and stared at Finn too.

      Finn swallowed. “I see that this is important,” he said. “Would my goddess object?”

      Bran said, with a small chuckle, “Be easy, man. One thing I have learnt over the years is that what the priests say and what the gods think are quite often different things. We have a prophecy to guide us here.”

      “Ah,” said Finn.

      Rees leant forward eagerly. “This is something I’ve been wanting to do for years. I want to rescue my uncle who was stolen away with the High Prince. I’ve been working on the practical way to do it all this year.” He looked at me. “You want to see your father again, don’t you?”

      I felt as if a huge hand was squeezing my chest. I didn’t know if it was excitement or terror. I managed to gasp out, “How – how—?”

      “Now you are here, you can help,” Rees said. “I was going to take four people from the Pandy, besides Riannan to sing us on, but you four are perfect. Will you agree to come?”

      “Yes, but how are you planning to get through the barrier?” Ogo said. “Nobody else can.”

      Rees laughed. “We fly in,” he said. “Over the barrier.”

      “But,” I said, “but isn’t the barrier like a dome over the whole of Logra?”

      “It can’t be,” Rees declared. “If it was, Logra would have run out of air long ago and the fishermen have seen people alive there. But, if it is a dome, we just fly back here and think again. See, the wind sets from the west at dawn, which is when we’ll go, and it sets from the east at sunset, so it will bring us back to Gallis.”

      “What kind of wings do you plan to use to fly to Logra?” Finn asked. “It’s a fair way to go. We’d have to flap for miles.”

      “Over the sea too,” Ogo said. “Some of us could drown.”

      Rees laughed again. He was almost hugging himself with delight. “No wings,” he said. “I have made a balloon.”

      We all said, “What?” Even Ivar, who was in a corner with Riannan and not listening to a word up to then, came to himself and demanded to know what Rees was talking about.

      “It rises by hot air,” Rees explained, “and is made of silk. In Gallis, we float small silk balloons at Midsummer by lighting a candle underneath. That gave me the idea. But I put one of Bran’s floating carts under mine to help it fly. It will work.”

      “Have you tested it?” Ogo asked.

      “Only in miniature, unfortunately,” Bran told him. “You can just imagine what the bards and the priests would say if Rees went flying across Gallis without permission. We’d be turned out of the farm. But the small model worked like a dream. Flew like a kite. We told Gronn it was a kite.”

      “So,” Rees said, “my very first flight will be tomorrow at dawn. Are you all willing to come along? I need two pairs of people, see, to man the bellows to keep the hot air going.”

      Bran sighed a little. “And he needs his dad to stay at home and pretend Rees and Riannan are walking to the coast with you all. You are all going, aren’t you?” I could tell he was itching to fly too and knew that he couldn’t. He was as enthusiastic as Rees about the plan.

      So were we all. Rees had carried us away with him somehow. When I look back, I see it was a crazy idea. We didn’t even know if this balloon-thing would work, let alone if we could get all the way to Logra in it. But I was on fire with the thought of seeing my father again and I could see Ogo ached to fly home to Logra. But why should Finn agree? Or Ivar? And they both did. Riannan I could understand. She admired her brother so, and I think she wanted to prove that she could sing magically enough to soar through the skies.

      “What are our plans when we get to Logra?” Ivar asked, just as if he were a practical person.

      “Land in a field somewhere near the main city. What’s it called?” Rees said.

      “Haranded,” Ogo put in.

      “Yes, Haranded,” Rees said. “And go in on foot to find Gareth and – what’s that prince called?”

      “Alasdair,” I said.

      “Alasdair, yes,” Rees said. “I can’t imagine they’ll be guarded very closely after all this time. Then we take them back to the balloon at dusk and fly away. I’ve laid in enough fuel for the return journey, see.”

      And that was all our plans. We had got this far when Wenda came in, bringing my aunt with her.

      “So you have truly decided to risk it?” she said, looking sadly around at our faces. “Ah well. Beck can stay here with me. I’ve done what I can for her for the moment, but it’s going to be a long job, I think. And of course we’ll look after your donkey while you’re gone. But, if you change your minds in the morning, we shan’t think the worse of you.”

      

      I thought I would be too excited to sleep that night, but in fact I slept very well. Aunt Beck, though she looked no different, actually put herself to bed in the little room next to mine without my having to shout at her once. This was such a relief that I suddenly