Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 12
"Winds save us from Inventors," said Ryman darkly.
"We should destroy that abomination, for safety’s sake. ...And
anyone who looks at it too much."
They all laughed. Jordan fumed, trying to think of a
retort. Willam glanced at him, and shook his head. Jordan
might have enyoyed a little verbal sparring before, when he
was just one of the work gang. Now that he was leader,
Willam was saying, he should no longer do that.
He took one more glance at the steam car. All the village
kids had found excuses to be in the courtyard today; he could
see boys he’d played with two weeks ago. He couldn’t even
acknowledge them now. He was an adult, they were children.
It was an unbreachable gulf.
Behind him Chester swore colorfully, as he always did
when things went well. The men began heaving stones onto
the rickety scaffold. Jordan grabbed an upright; for a moment
he felt dizzy, and remembered last night’s dream--something
about swirling leaves and dust kicking into the air under the
wingbeats of ten thousand screaming birds.
A group of brightly dressed women swirled across the
courtyard, giving the steam car a wide berth. His older sister
was among them; she looked in Jordan’s direction, shading her
eyes, then waved.
Emmy seemed in better spirits than earlier this morning.
When Jordan arrived at the manor she was already there,
having been in the kitchens since before dawn. "There you
are!" she’d said as he entered the courtyard. Jordan had
debated whether to tell her about his nightmare, but before he
could decide, she bent close. "Jordan," she said in a whisper.
"Help me out, okay?"
"What do you want?"
She looked around herself in a melodramatic way. "He’s