“This is actually pretty incredible,” Gil shouts over the roar from the sky.  “Where are they all from?”

Lauren puts down her binoculars.  “All over.  Some of them come in from off-stream, or catch interplanar drifts.  Some from down south.  You know, wherever.”

Above, the thousands of airships flock like birds, shift in huge waves, feint and blare, social animals jockeying for position.  The colours – of sails, of flags, of sailors – are mind-boggling.

“What next?”

“Let’s see if we can find a ride.”

They take an elevator to a docking station, and haggle their way on to a monkey longship.


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