That was even true; some part of him wanted very much to die. That was out of the question just now if it could be avoided.

“Attack by files. Rotate every five minutes; the enemy can’t face relays of fresh men. Legate, lead your troops!”

“We’re going to make it,” Ian said.

“I mean, probably! If nothing goes wrong!” he added frantically, as Ritva and several Dúnedain spat or made the sign of the Horns or other gestures against ill luck.

The rattle-bang-thump sound of combat was continuous from the doors of the stairwell; they’d barricaded the exit with everything they could find, but the sound of sword-blades and the flat snap of bowstrings sound, the battle cries and the screams of pain . . . they were all getting closer. Ritva didn’t like to think of what it must be like in there, fighting in the near dark.

And out of the north, a long orca-shape was coming. Still a tiny dot, but unmistakable; in this Fifth Age of the world, what else flew like that?

Well, Windlords and dragons. But we don’t have those. At least not yet, I suppose anything’s possible. I wouldn’t have believed the Sword of the Lady if I hadn’t seen it or what happened on Nantucket if I hadn’t been there.

She pulled a monocular out of its case on her belt and looked. The ship of the air was just as she remembered it, three hundred feet of blunt-pointed teardrop with cruciform stabilizer fins, and an aluminum-truss keel along the bottom anchoring a spiderweb net of light cables that distributed its weight over the great gasbag. The gondola was slung beneath like a stylized Viking longboat sans dragon’s head; it was taut fabric over an aluminum frame as well, with the captain’s post and wheel at the front and a propeller and rudder at the rear. You couldn’t see it from here, but the slender hull held twelve units made from recliner cycles on each side of the central walkway to power the propeller shaft.

That was the power source. Unfortunately it was a rather feeble one, and the stiff wind was far more than it could handle. That was why Lawrence Thurston hadn’t built more of them. Curtis LeMay was extremely useful in a dead calm, and nearly helpless as an ordinary balloon in anything else. Gliders had far lower payload and endurance, but you really could steer them in most weathers.

“One pass,” she said. “And that’s it. They can’t turn back against the wind, just steer a little across it . . . yes, they’ve spotted our smoke flares.”

The great shape became more nearly circular as the nose turned towards this building.

“Why are they coming in so low?” Ian asked.