'By listening to what they say."

Steve looked puzzled. 'Are you telling me you understand their language? How the elf-eft did you learn to do that?"

'The same way I learned to build airplanes."

'unbelievable. Can you speak j.a.panese too?"

'Yes, like a native. And just for the record I can read and write it as well." Cadillac checked their immediate surroundings, then uttered a fluent stream of gobbledegook.

Steve didn't understand a word, but it certainly sounded like the real thing. He shook his head in amazement.

'Why the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me about this before?"

'You never asked. But forget I told you. Outlanders aren't allowed to speak j.a.panese. If they found out, they'd kill me."

'Don't worry, I won't breathe a word."

'Good. C'mon, let's go back to the house."

'What about the ground trolleys?"

'Your friends can pick up the pieces. You and I have got something to celebrate."

We certainly have, thought Steve. He found it hard to contain his excitement. Christopher! This could be the final break he'd been looking for. Ever since Jodi had told him about the yellow-card system and the arm-stamps, Steve had been trying to find a way round the problem of the paperwork. He had also discovered the small problem that Side-Winder had omitted to mention: slaves weren't allowed to carry money. The only d.i.n.k who could procure their tickets was the Herald, but Steve was not about to reveal the planned escape route to anyone he was not totally sure of. And now, the Herald would not be needed. Steve pictured the whole thing in his mind. Yeah . . . it was brilliant. Cadillac could do it all.

Seated cross-legged at the low table, Cadillac pulled the stopper on a fresh bottle of sake and filled their cups to the blue line painted round the rim. He took one and toasted Steve. 'To the daring young man in his flying machine."

'Very funny." Steve raised his cup in response, then took a heart-warming swallow. 'Next time, I want something with real wings on. Otherwise you can get yourself a new a.s.sistant."

'You shall have it,' said Cadillac. He examined the inside of his cup thoughtfully, as if he was trying to work out why it was empty. 'Look, I know you took a tremendous risk, but it worked perfectly. I know how these people's minds work. When they saw that cart take off it really made their day."

'Glad to hear it. It almost put paid to mine."

'Yeah. For a minute I thought it was going to flip right over, but..."

Cadillac replenished Steve's cup and refilled his own.

Steve couldn't figure out why he didn't just drink it straight from the bottle.

'... you got away with it yet again. You're the luckiest man I know.

Cheers."

It sounded more like a reproach than a compliment.

'Don't lose heart,' said Steve. 'After a few more stunts like that it may run out on me." He downed some more sake. He'd put on an air of bravado when he'd waded ash.o.r.e, but his insides had been shaking like a Seamster working a jackhammer. The sake brought almost instant relief.

He'd have to watch it. A guy could get to like this stuff. He laid his cup firmly on the table and held it there.

'So... what next?"

'That's easy. You helped me design that two-seater.

I'm going to teach you to fly it."

Steve stared at him for a moment, then laughed. 'That should be an interesting experience, but do you really think it's necessary?"

'Absolutely. You're going to take up the rocketpowered prototype.

After all, it was your idea."

'Yes, but ' 'It's very simple. Apart from myself, there are only two other people here with flight experience. Kazan and Kelso. I'm not going to put their lives at risk until the system's been properly tested - in the air."

'And that's where I come in."

'Exactly. I hate to say it, but you're the best man for the job.

That's why I want you to take it up."

'Okay, but why the pretence?"

It was Cadillac's turn to laugh. 'You're not usually this slow to catch on. Must be the sake." Cadillac tipped his head back, drained his cup in one gulp, then banged it down on the table. 'You're a gra.s.s monkey, Brickman.

Endowed with a certain, limited intelligence but basically an unskilled, untutored savage. Never mind. I have decided to take you under my wing - so to speak and as part of your education I am going to teach you to fly."

'Smart move,' said Steve. 'How many crack-ups am I allowed?"

'None. You're a fast learner." Cadillac refilled his cup and toasted Steve for the third time.

'The average at the academy is ten hours. Better make it fifteen."

'We'll make it twenty. You're not that clever."

Steve raised his cup with a rueful smile and started to empty it a sip at a time. The ground tests had only used a short burn. The rockets they planned to fit to the flying-horses would last twice as long.

But, unlike a normal power plant, there was no throttle and no cut-out.

Once they ignited that was it. You just had to sit there and ride it out. Provided the acceleration didn't rip the wings off, he did not foresee any insurmountable problems. Not with the aircraft, anyway.

'This is all fine with me, but how about the d.i.n.ks? Are they going to let you do this?"

'Do what?" Cadillac's voice was starting to slur.

'Teach me to fly. As you just reminded me - I'm a Mute."

'I don't see what you're getting at."

'Aren't the Iron Masters going to end up flying these things?"