“And your problem…is interesting.” Representations of forces and lines of power, of femtomorphic resonances and energy fields were beginning to leap into his consciousness. “It’s easy enough to get you into the air. Balloons, force manipulation and whatnot. Even easy to get you up there more than once. But to get you up there whenever you want it, under your own steam…which is what you’re after, yes?” Yagharek nodded. Isaac stroked his chin.

“Godspit…! Yes…now that is a much more…interesting conundrum.”

Isaac was beginning to retreat into his computations. One prosaic part of his mind recalled that he had no appointments for some time, and that meant he could immerse himself in research for a little while. Another pragmatic level did its job, evaluating the importance and urgency of his outstanding work. A couple of piss-easy analyses of compounds that he could put off more or less indefinitely; a half-promise to synthesize an elixir or two—easy to get out of…apart from that, it was only his own research into vodyanoi watercræft. Which he could put to one side.

No, no, no! he contradicted himself suddenly. Don’t have to put watercræft aside…I can integrate it! It’s all about elements arsing about, misbehaving…liquid that stands free, heavy matter that invades the air…there’s got to be something there…some common denominator…

With an effort he brought himself back to his laboratory, realized that Yagharek was staring at him impassively.

“I’m interested in your problem,” he said simply. Immediately Yagharek reached into a pouch. He held out a huge handful of twisted, dirty gold nuggets. Isaac opened his eyes wide.

“Well…uh, thank you. I’ll certainly accept some expenses, hourly rates, etc…” Yagharek handed Isaac the pouch.

Isaac managed not to whistle as he weighed it in his hand. He peered into it. Layer on heavy layer of sifting gold. It was undignified, but Isaac felt almost spellbound. This represented more money than he had ever seen in one place, enough to cover a lot of research costs and still live well for months.

Yagharek was no businessman, that was certain. He could have offered a third, a quarter of this and still had almost anyone in Brock Marsh panting. He should have kept most of it back, dangled it if interest waned.

Maybe he has kept most of it back, thought Isaac, and his eyes widened even further.

“How do I reach you?” said Isaac, still gazing at his gold. “Where are you living?”

Yagharek shook his head and was silent.

“Well, I have to be able to reach you…”

“I will come to you,” said the garuda. “Every day, every two days, every week…I will make sure you do not forget my case.”

“No danger of that, I assure you. Are you really saying I can’t get messages to you?”

“I do not know where I will be, Grimnebulin. I shun this city. It hunts me. I must keep moving.”

Isaac shrugged helplessly. Yagharek stood to leave.

“You understand what I want, Grimnebulin? I do not want to have to take a potion. I do not want to have to wear a harness. I do not want to climb into a contraption. I do not want one glorious journey into the clouds, and an earthbound eternity. I want you to let me leap from the earth as easily as you walk from room to room. Can you do that, Grimnebulin?”