The crowd milled impatiently around the edges of Graduation Field.

The younger apprentices pushed their way through to the front to see the cordoned off area where the two scout ships stood, their sails neatly furled and the masts folded back in their storage positions against the hull. Most of the fully qualified wizards were content to stand at the back of the crowd, though. They knew that most of the action would be taking place in the air, over their heads, where everyone would be able to see it, and to stand patiently at the back while the apprentices surged around gave them an air of aloofness and serenity that would impress their young charges. A few wizards were nevertheless using levitation spells to hover a few feet above the ground, infected by the electric atmosphere of excitement that permeated the crowd.

Thomas had Derrin balanced on his shoulders to give him a good view. The boy felt a little self conscious about it, being sixteen years old, but the unavoidable fact was that he was small. Only the size of a human eight old, and without the lift he would have been unable to see over the heads of the crowd. He endured it, therefore, and was soon enjoying himself immensely as he lost himself in the occasion.

Thomas held onto one of his son's legs with one hand and Lirenna's hand with the other. "Strange to think we spent all those weeks aboard one of those," he said. "They look so small, sitting there like that."

"They're beautiful," added Lirenna, whose eyes were closed and who was gently massaging her temple with the pale, slender fingers of her free hand. She was using her ring of ESP to see the ships through the eyes of a shayen boy standing at the front of the crowd, a boy who had no idea that his view was being shared in this manner, and the demi shae cursed softly whenever his eyes darted away from the objects of her interest towards a slender shae girl standing beside him. A girl whose long golden hair shone in the morning sunlight.

"It would be a joy to sail on a ship like that," she added. "The stars bright above us, shining in the rivers and lakes below. I wish I could have been with you on that voyage."

Thomas gave her hand a squeeze, then slipped his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her against him. He'd been overjoyed to learn that she would be with them aboard the Ship of Space as part of the shayen contingent and didn't mind at all that it meant she'd have to keep shayen secrets from him. All he cared about was that they'd be together on a mission that might last months. Well, not together as such. She'd be spending most of her time up on deck one, the shayen forest dome, while he'd be down in the human decks, but they'd be seeing each other fairly frequently and would get to spend the occasional night together. He thought of the tiny cot he'd had in his shipboard quarters. Barely big enough for one man. They'd be squeezed tightly together on it. He smiled in pleasant anticipation.

"You may still get the chance," he pointed out. "There'll be new worlds to scout out, and each ship will have to carry a pair of shae folk to operate the Orb of Levitation. Maybe they'll give you the job, with your experience of wilderness questing."

"Do you think so?" she asked hopefully, gazing radiantly up at him.

"They'd be fools not to consider you. Actually, I imagine you'll all get a turn. A chance to get out and see a real sky over your heads. Even with all the illusion spells, it would be tough on a shae to spend the entire mission cooped up in a twenty yard steel sphere."

"I could endure it forever if you were with me," mumbled Lirenna happily.

Thomas nodded as he stroked her silky soft hair, but then he frowned. He remembered the mental anguish she'd suffered in the caverns of Kronos. Despite being a quarter human, she still felt the shayen need for wide open spaces and he intended to use all his influence to get her aboard a scout ship at every possible opportunity.

"Look!" cried Derrin, his hand leaving his father's forehead to point off to their left.

His parents turned to see a group of senior wizards and other dignitaries strolling sedately along the Wizard's Way from the teaching buildings. Valeron Hort was there, looking magnificent in his Beltharan dress uniform, and Seskip Tonn, striding in sedate dignity alongside Carlanta, who'd altered the beauty spells she wore to give herself an extra four inches of height as well as a special lustre to the flame of auburn hair that flowed down her back.

At the front of the small procession walked Natan Crowley himself. The Director. He was wearing his ceremonial robes of office, black trimmed with silver, the most ancient colours of magic, and in his hand he held the Staff of Lexandros, the fabled artifact that was said to have belonged to the founder of the University himself. He was talking to Saturn who, it was said, had been cured of his invalidity and was once again able to cast spells. They were chatting like old friends, as if nothing had happened, and the Director even laughed at something Saturn said while Seskip, walking behind, glared at the backs of their heads. Well, that clinches it, thought Thomas. He really must have been on some kind of secret mission back in old Agglemon. He wondered again what it could have been, but he knew that he would almost certainly never find out.

The crowd parted to make way for them, and they crossed the empty space to the nearest of the two scoutships, the Dragonfly. They climbed the boarding ramp and gathered on the deck where they exchanged a few pleasantries with the crew and shook their hands. Thomas recognised Ihvon, one of the men who'd been with him on the Hummingbird, but the rest were unknown to him. Newcomers who'd just finished their initial training among the Louradan shae folk and were now getting some practical experience with the veterans of the flight to the Southern Continent.

Conversation buzzed through the crowd as they waited for something to happen. Thomas looked up, but the cloudless blue sky was still empty.

"Shouldn't be long now," said a cracked and ancient voice from behind him.

Thomas turned slowly and carefully, feeling Derrin's hands tighten on his forehead as he made sure his balance was secure. "Elmias!" he cried joyfully, recognising his former tutor. "Master! Thank the Gods you're better!"

"On the mend, on the mend," wheezed the ancient wizard, leaning on the shoulder of the young woman who accompanied him, an acolyte of Caroli the Healer. "And don't call me master. I've told you that before."

"You'll always be my master," said Thomas, however. "You were always my favourite teacher. My inspiration."

Elmias glowed with pleasure, grinning toothlessly. "And you were always my favourite pupil. I'm delighted to see you achieve the potential I always knew you had. I've heard about your recent exploits. The Southern Continent! You know, I've been to a thousand worlds in a thousand different universes, some weird beyond imagination, but I've never been to the unexplored continent right here on our very own world. You turned out to be quite a hero, so I hear."

Thomas blushed with embarrassment and hurriedly changed the subject. "I hear they asked you to name the Ship of Space. That's quite an honour."

The ancient wizard's grin widened. "They're still trying to ease their conscience over what happened in the war. Ancient history, I say, but you know how they are. Long memories, and me still around to remind them. They'll all be glad to see me safely off to my grave."

"You never did tell us exactly what happened," said Lirenna. "What did they do that was so shameful?"

"No, and I probably never will. Ancient history. Let it lie."

Thomas nodded. "So why did you choose such a strange name for the Ship of Space? Does it mean something in some language?"

"It's a man's name. A man who lived on a world I visited once. A dreamer and a visionary whose imagination travelled further than any of my wanderings. I wanted his name to be heard on our world, and I couldn't think of a better way to do it."

"Jules Varne," said Thomas thoughtfully. "It does have a certain ring to it."

"Jules Verne," corrected Elmias. "A truly extraordinary man."

"You met him?" asked Lirenna.

Elmias shook his head. "He died over a century ago, but he left behind a legacy of truly remarkable stories. You've both got translation spells, haven't you?" They both nodded. "You'll have to borrow the books, then. I'm sure you'll love them, once I've explained some of the more unfamiliar terms and concepts. Take them with you when you set off into the unknown. You'll need something to pass the time."

"Thank you," cried Thomas, delighted. "That'd be great." He looked up into the sky again. "Wonder where it's gotten to anyway? Ooh, Derry, you'll have to get down now. You're too heavy for my poor back." He lowered his son gently to the ground.

"Probably still touring the provinces," said Lirenna with a sigh. "His Majesty wants to make sure he gets his moneysworth."

Thomas nodded, feeling annoyed with the King of Belthar. For the wizards of Lexandria, the shae folk of Lourada and the moon trogs, the Ship of Space (the Jules Verne, he corrected himself) was a reaction to the discovery that a civilisation vastly more powerful than their own might exist on a nearby planet. They wanted to spy out that civilisation. Find out if it still existed and, if it did, what their intentions were towards the people of Tharia.

To King Fennerel, though, the whole project was merely a massive propaganda campaign. By spending vast amounts of money on an ambitious, high visibility project, the Beltharana were advertising their continued power and wealth to the whole world, and especially to their own citizens who were the ones they really had to convince. Thomas had heard that the King himself had been aboard the ship as it cruised slowly above the streets of Tara, the capital city of Belthar, and he could imagine him dressed in all his finery, crown on his head and jewelled sceptre in his hand, waving down at the cheering crowds below.

The Jules Verne had spent a week touring every part of that vast country, from the affluent and densely populated heartlands surrounding Lake Lima to the rural, outlying regions to the north and east. Maybe even as far north as the new garrison towns being built to hold back the undead hordes of Lord Darkthorne, the last surviving member of the Circle of Raks who'd been the Generals of the Shadowarmies.

The ship had then gone on a tour of Belthar's former provinces, staying high enough to be out of range of spell and ballista bolt while remaining low enough to be clearly visible from the ground. A visible reminder of the continuing power of their former masters and an implied warning that Belthar was not yet ready to fade into history.

That tour was supposed to have ended the day before and the ship was now due to make its last stop in Lexandria Valley before setting off to begin its true mission, but the sky was still empty and the crowd was beginning to get impatient. The entourage of senior wizards and other dignitaries was now standing on the deck of the other scout ship and Thomas saw that Saturn was also glancing up at the sky impatiently.

Clearly the Ship of Space was overdue, and Thomas felt a tightening in his stomach as he wondered what was keeping it. Could the felisians have managed to slip another saboteur aboard to stage a last minute coup, perhaps bringing the ship down in ruins somewhere in the mountains? Or perhaps all the various magics of the ship had begun interfering with each other, crippling the ship and leaving it drifting dead in space. The anxiety reached a new height when he saw Saturn making the hand movements of a Farspeaking spell, probably demanding that someone with a Coronet of Farspeaking get in touch with the ship and find out where in hell it had gotten to. A hubbub of conversation began breaking out in the crowd and people began milling about restlessly.

Then someone shouted. People were pointing and every face was turned up to the same spot in the sky. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the tiny globe high overhead, looking like a fourth moon as the yellow sun illuminated a fingernail crescent of hull. It was descending slowly as the orbmaster struggled to balance the thrust of the Orb of Propulsion against the pull of Tharia's gravity. If he got it wrong, he might crash, merely buckling the landing legs if he was lucky. Maybe wrecking the ship beyond all repair if he wasn't. It occurred to Thomas that the Orbmaster had successfully accomplished this manoeuvre twice before, in both cases actually landing the ship on the ground. Once to pick up the King of Belthar and his retinue and again to drop them off. The ship had survived without, apparently, having suffered a single scratch and so he forced himself to relax. It'll be okay, he told himself. He knows his job.

The crowd was cheering now, people jostling their neighbours as they jumped up and down or waved hats in the air. Derrin grabbed his arm, begging to be lifted back up onto his shoulders, and Thomas grunted with the effort as he complied. His son was putting on weight quickly now. With the boy's legs around his neck again and his small, cold hands holding tightly to his forehead, Thomas looked up again to follow the ship's descent.

It was dropping in fits and starts, dropping like a brick for a few hundred yards as the shayen Orbmaster relaxed the power of the Orb of Propulsion, then steadying as he increased the power again. Thomas wondered whether everyone aboard was feeling seasick, then remembered that gravity was constant aboard the ship. Those aboard were feeling no motion at all. It was only those watching on the ground who might be feeling a little green.

Finally, though, the shae seemed to get it figured out and the ship began descending slowly and smoothly, finally coming to a halt a hundred yards above the crowded field. Thomas was amused to see that a huge oak tree had been painted on the tiles of the micrometeorite cladding, next to the coat of arms of the royal Beltharan army; a griffin and a lion holding a crown between them. King Fennerel obviously wanted there to be no doubt in the mind of anyone seeing it that it had been built with Beltharan money.

Saturn, still standing on the deck of the second scout ship, appeared to be speaking to himself, although he was probably using the Farspeaking spell to talk to someone aboard the Jules Verne. A moment later a long, straight crack appeared in the lower part of the ship as a large, wedge shaped piece of hull began to swing out, revealing the hanger deck inside. It looked impossibly small. Thomas found it hard to believe that the two scout ships could fit inside such a confined space.