The Paperwing sat on a juryrigged platform of freshly sawn pine planks, teetering out over the eastern wall. Six sendings clustered around the craft, readying it for flight.
Sabriel looked up at it as she climbed the stairs, an unpleasant feeling rising with her. She had been expeg something similar to the aircraft that had begun to be on in Aierre, like the biplahat had performed aerobatics at the last Wyverley College Open Day.
Something with two wings, rigging and a propeller— though she had assumed a magical eher than a meical one.
But the Paperwing didn』t look anything like an Aierran airpla most closely resembled a oe with hawk-wings and a tail. On closer iion, Sabriel saw that the tral fuselage robably based on a oe. It was tapered at ead and had a tral hole for a cockpit.
Wings sprouted on each side of this oe shape—long, swept-back wings that looked very flimsy. The wedge-shaped tail didn』t look much better.
Sabriel climbed the last few steps with sinking expectations. The struaterial was now clear and so was the craft』s he whole thing was made up from many sheets of paper, boogether with some sort of laminate.
Painted powder-blue, with silver bands around the fuselage and silver stripes along the wings and tail, it looked pretty, decorative and not at all airworthy.
Only the yellow fal eyes painted on its pointed prow hi its capacity for flight.
Sabriel looked at the Paperwing again, and then out at the waterfall beyond. Now, fed by floodwaters, it looked even more frightening than usual. Spray exploded for tens of yards above its lip—a r mist the Paperwing would have to fly through before it reached the open sky beyond. Sabriel didn』t even know if it was roof.
「How often has this . . . thing . . . flown before?」 she asked, nervously. Intellectually, she accepted that she would sooting in this craft, to be launched out towards the crashing waters—but her subscious, aomach, seemed very keen to stay firmly on the ground.
「Many times,」 replied Mogget, easily jumping from the platform to the cockpit. His voice echoed there for a moment, till he climbed back up, furry cat-face propped on the rim. 「The Abhorsen who made it once flew it to the sea and back, in a siernoon. But she was a great weather-witd could work the winds. I don』t suppose—」
「No,」 said Sabriel, made aware of anap in her education. She khat wind-magic was largely whistled Charter marks, but that was all.
「No. I 』t.」
「Well,」 tinued Mogget, after a thoughtful pause, 「the Paperwing does have some elementary charms to ride the wind. You』ll have to whistle them, though. You whistle, I trust?」
Sabriel ignored him. All neancers had to be musical, had to be able to whistle, to hum, to sing.
If they were caught ih without bells, or ical instruments, their vocal skills were a on of last recourse.
A sending came and took her pack, helpio wrestle it off, then stowing it at the rear of the cockpit. Aook Sabriel』s arm and directed her to peared to be a leather halfhammock strung across the cockpit—obviously the pilot』s seat. It didn』t look terribly safe either, but Sabriel forced herself to climb in, after giving her scabbarded sword into the hands of yet another sending.
Surprisingly, her feet didn』t gh the paper-laminated floor. The material eve reassuringly solid and, after a minute of squirming, swaying and adjustment, the hammock-seat was very fortable. Sword and scabba