Mythology Abroad Read Free Page B

accidents in planes, owing to bad maintenance or fatigued metal. Holl preferred to live long enough to see the far lands on the other side of the ocean, and return home again. There was so much that was precious to him, only the thought that he would return allowed him to wrench himself away. Feeling outward gently with a cohesion spell, he touched the braces and bulkheads of the giant airliner, seeking weak spots and untightened bolts. The jet’s complexity of construction amazed him. Not surprisingly, the massed metal repelled his touch, but reassuringly sent back impressions that it was solid and whole, needing none of his magic to finish its journey in safety. Holl relaxed, satisfied. This jet was well built and correctly maintained. As a craftsman, he approved such work.
    The stars were remarkably clear up here. The disturbing sight of the far-distant surface was covered by a soft carpet of white clouds, ghostly fleece under the moon. Holl spotted constellations and counted stars until he fell asleep with his face toward the moon.
    ***

C HAPTER THREE
    “Good morning!” The sheer power of the loudspeaker over their heads belied the flight attendant’s friendly greeting. “We will be landing in just about an hour, so we’ll be serving breakfast and distributing landing cards now. Please have them with you when you pass through Customs.”
    Holl woke up like a shot at the first blast of sound. “They dole out sleep in grudging amounts, don’t they?” he asked grumpily, planting his cap on top of his disordered hair. Keith had been curled up like a grasshopper with his thin knees against his chest until the flight attendant’s voice shocked him awake. Both legs shot out and banged into the seat in front of him, earning a sleepy grunt from its occupant. “Sorry,” Keith murmured. He focused his reddened eyes on his friend and ran his hands through tousled hair.
    “Good morning,” Holl said politely.
    “I guess they don’t want us to get too comfortable.” Keith noticed the glare of the sun coming over his shoulder. “Sounds like we crashed straight into tomorrow. Oops, I must have nudged the shade open while I was asleep. Sorry.” He glanced down at the shimmering gray sea far below them, visible through thinning white clouds.
    “Don’t bother,” Holl said, catching his hand. “I don’t mind any more. It doesn’t look real up this high. There, I see coastline, clear as I can see you. Which is it? Can we open up your maps?”
    Breakfast was a basket containing a cold, sweet pastry, fruit cocktail, and a sealed cup of orange juice, and accompanied by a white document identified by the flight attendant as a landing card, which all non-United Kingdom residents needed to fill out. Holl tasted a single bite of the pastry and rejected it, as he read the card.
    “Newsprint mixed with sugar, and topped with more,” he complained. The fruit was pronounced edible, but the orange juice proved to be as difficult to open as the peanuts. “They must have an endless supply of that plastic.”
    “Don’t worry,” said Keith. “I have emergency rations in my bag. Cookies, candy bars, and sandwiches. Do you want peanut butter and jelly, or ham, tomato, and mustard?”
    “I apologize, Keith Doyle, for all the bleating,” Holl admitted, shamefacedly accepting a sandwich. “Grousing about such trifles as food, when I’ve just flown three thousand miles and more. A wonder, and I’m not even properly grateful. Your pardon.”
    “I promise, I would never have assumed you were scared out of your skull,” Keith replied, very solemnly, but his eyes twinkled. “If I didn’t know better, I would have put it down to that.”
    Holl laughed. “That’s the truth of it. I don’t react well in crisis, do I?”
    “Lack of experience. You’re much better on your home ground,” Keith reasoned. “Why not let yourself go, and take the adventure as it comes? The food wasn’t poisoned or anything, just not that good. I