Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 31
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Jordan's mother ladled out a thick soup and revealed a
spread of cheese, salad and fresh bread. She smiled around the
supper table with proprietary kindness, while Jordan's father
talked on about the stone mother and Jordan’s bravery.
"Ryman can’t say a bad word about the boy now. Ha!
What a change. But the fact is, when it came to the moment,
he panicked, and you didn’t."
"Thanks." Jordan found himself squirming. All this
sudden fame was strange, and tiring on top of everything else
that had happened today. Despite his exhaustion, he was afraid
of going to sleep tonight. The nightmare might return.
He wanted to tell his family about Allegri’s idea that he’d
been blessed by the Winds. He opened his mouth to speak, but
a cold feeling deep in his stomach stopped him. Father kept
printed broadsheets detailing the escapades of the inspectors
and controllers; Jordan could see several tacked up by the door
if turned his head. That was all Mother would allow as
decoration, the rest being relegated to a chest on the porch.
Father would would be thrilled and proud beyond description if
he thought Jordan might be able to gain a government position.
But it wasn’t what Jordan himself wanted.
He had always assumed he would follow in his father’s
footsteps, and was content with that. Jordan’s highest ambition
was to have a comfortable home, a family, and to be
considered a solid member of the community. What more