infractions that carried the death penalty, “You’ll be hung, maggot, because you aren’t worth the three fegs it costs for a bullet and the powder to shoot you.”
The Four, on the other hand, had been expected to think. They were required to use their ingenuity, to attempt new things, to record their successes in detail so they could be repeated, and to analyze their failures so other ways could be devised to reach the same goal. Since such a regime of training had never been previously attempted in known history, both trainees and trainers were essentially making it all up as they went along, and that was why such emphasis was put on originality and creative thinking. They had been under the tutelage and care of the African woman T’saya, and the inhumanly strange Yancey Slide, although other specialists had been brought in with the hope that they might be able to make a contribution. Some of what the quartet went through, although grueling, was straightforward and physical. They had run and climbed and swum and exercised, just like any other teenage recruit, all according to an only slightly adapted version of the Albany Rangers training manual. At the other extreme, they had meditated and honed their cognitive skills. They had also drunk, swallowed, and smoked strange potions and mixtures devised by T’saya, the Shaman Gray Wolf, and the Lady Gretchen. They had experienced visions and tripped to other realities, unclear as to whether the landscapes in which they found themselves were real or merely the products of their assembled imaginations.
The metaphor of flying had been used since their very first excursions into the Other Place. They “flew” over occult landscapes of both incredible beauty and measureless horror. Their paranormal workouts had become known as “training flights.” Then the metaphor had been taken too far, and a trainer had been brought in from the Norse-run flying school of the Royal Albany Air Corps, to see if he could devise a way to record the “geography” of the Other Place, but, in a matter of hours, the veteran aviator had become so violently spooked that he made his stammering excuses and left. In the Other Place, they had essentially worked on refining the pattern they had instinctively fallen into when, during the battle of the Potomac, still knowing nothing, and hardly knowing each other, they had been expected to stem the paranormal assault by Quadaron-Ahrach, the High Zhaithan, and his twin sister, Her Grand Eminence Jeakqual-Ahrach. They had found through trial and error that the original approach, and playing to their basic strengths, was always the best way: Cordelia tended to surge ahead, while Argo followed like a protective, ever watchful shadow, on the lookout for unexpected danger. Jesamine would take a center position and her inclination was to function as an anchor. Raphael brought up the rear, and was constantly sensitive to what might suddenly appear behind them. An implacable caution seemed to be emerging as his strongest attribute. Plus, a remorseless and deadly resentment of any enemy that tried to blindside the takla .
As though acknowledging his thoughts of flying, three heavy RAAC Odin biplanes buzzed overhead, filling the clear morning air with the whine of their engines. The aircraft were either on a nuisance raid on the Mosul, flying out to drop their payloads of twenty-pound bombs on an enemy who was now halted and digging in, or else they’d been ordered up simply to enhance morale and military spectacle as Albany went to the shooting war. Their undersides were painted gray-blue so as to present a less precise target to possible ground fire, but Raphael knew the upper surfaces were bright and aggressive, and the Crowned Bear of Albany was emblazoned on top wings and tailplanes as though on the banners of ancient knights. The airplanes of the RAAC had no need of camouflage from the air. The Mosul so far possessed no aircraft, although everyone knew,
The Four, on the other hand, had been expected to think. They were required to use their ingenuity, to attempt new things, to record their successes in detail so they could be repeated, and to analyze their failures so other ways could be devised to reach the same goal. Since such a regime of training had never been previously attempted in known history, both trainees and trainers were essentially making it all up as they went along, and that was why such emphasis was put on originality and creative thinking. They had been under the tutelage and care of the African woman T’saya, and the inhumanly strange Yancey Slide, although other specialists had been brought in with the hope that they might be able to make a contribution. Some of what the quartet went through, although grueling, was straightforward and physical. They had run and climbed and swum and exercised, just like any other teenage recruit, all according to an only slightly adapted version of the Albany Rangers training manual. At the other extreme, they had meditated and honed their cognitive skills. They had also drunk, swallowed, and smoked strange potions and mixtures devised by T’saya, the Shaman Gray Wolf, and the Lady Gretchen. They had experienced visions and tripped to other realities, unclear as to whether the landscapes in which they found themselves were real or merely the products of their assembled imaginations.
The metaphor of flying had been used since their very first excursions into the Other Place. They “flew” over occult landscapes of both incredible beauty and measureless horror. Their paranormal workouts had become known as “training flights.” Then the metaphor had been taken too far, and a trainer had been brought in from the Norse-run flying school of the Royal Albany Air Corps, to see if he could devise a way to record the “geography” of the Other Place, but, in a matter of hours, the veteran aviator had become so violently spooked that he made his stammering excuses and left. In the Other Place, they had essentially worked on refining the pattern they had instinctively fallen into when, during the battle of the Potomac, still knowing nothing, and hardly knowing each other, they had been expected to stem the paranormal assault by Quadaron-Ahrach, the High Zhaithan, and his twin sister, Her Grand Eminence Jeakqual-Ahrach. They had found through trial and error that the original approach, and playing to their basic strengths, was always the best way: Cordelia tended to surge ahead, while Argo followed like a protective, ever watchful shadow, on the lookout for unexpected danger. Jesamine would take a center position and her inclination was to function as an anchor. Raphael brought up the rear, and was constantly sensitive to what might suddenly appear behind them. An implacable caution seemed to be emerging as his strongest attribute. Plus, a remorseless and deadly resentment of any enemy that tried to blindside the takla .
As though acknowledging his thoughts of flying, three heavy RAAC Odin biplanes buzzed overhead, filling the clear morning air with the whine of their engines. The aircraft were either on a nuisance raid on the Mosul, flying out to drop their payloads of twenty-pound bombs on an enemy who was now halted and digging in, or else they’d been ordered up simply to enhance morale and military spectacle as Albany went to the shooting war. Their undersides were painted gray-blue so as to present a less precise target to possible ground fire, but Raphael knew the upper surfaces were bright and aggressive, and the Crowned Bear of Albany was emblazoned on top wings and tailplanes as though on the banners of ancient knights. The airplanes of the RAAC had no need of camouflage from the air. The Mosul so far possessed no aircraft, although everyone knew,
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