The Knights of Bithynia A few houses down from their own, their little hedged-in lane gave way over a wooden stile to a spread of flat fenland, and Kay and Ell followed the loping strides of the two wraiths onto the frosted stubble. In the slow going of the garden and the tough brake and briars at the end of the lane, Kay had been stumbling, almost suspended between sleep and wake; now the sharp, frosted air of the fen hit her like a blast, and she looked, hunting and alert, for her sister's hand. Ell was still stumbling a bit, groggy and delicate after nearly tumbling from the low roof outside the back window. Kay dragged her on. Scrambling over a slick stile, she thought she had lost the wraiths completely; but then, ahead, a burst of something caught her eye--a low orange flame, it looked like--and she heard Flip's impatient voice. "Come on!" he hissed. "No time! It's almost dawn!" It only broke on her, as they came in closer and the dark of the sky seemed to engulf them entirely, that they had stepped into the shadow of something enormous. "Quick--hop up and into the basket," Will said, putting out a hand. In another sudden burst of orange flame, the entire scene was illuminated. Kay felt a surge of excitement and terror: the two wraiths had tethered a giant hot-air balloon to the frozen ground, and its massive lifting envelope tow-ered above them in the cold and settling damp of the early morning. Kay's eyes were drawn by the burst of flame into the interior of the balloon, into the seemingly endless curve rising into the air. Ell had stopped dead and was pulling back on her arm. Flip, by contrast, was all motion, scuttling around the balloon and hauling up the stakes that had kept the basket at tether. "No time, no time," he was feverishly muttering to himself, punctuated by heaves of effort as he dragged up at the long metal stakes and pushed down on the handle of a complicated-looking contraption he had fetched from its hook on the edge of the basket. "We really are short on time," Will said insistently, now from the more-than-darkness left by the extinguishing of the flame. Ell was still trying to pull Kay backward, away. "We need to make height by dawn, or we'll be noticed. Wraiths are one thing," he said, now putting both his hands out over the lip of the basket to the two girls. "We're here, we're not here--but big colorful balloons in the sky attract attention. Come on, I'll help you up. Plenty of room inside." "It's going to be okay. Really," said Kay. Then, taking Ell in a warm hug and burying her face in the soft-brushed texture of her fleece, Kay promised that she would take care of her. She lifted her up toward Will, climbed easily into the basket herself and sat down hard on the floor, shutting her eyes against the quickly advancing light that would have shown her--had she turned her head--the end of her lane, the houses pale in the predawn and the streetlights--one, two, three--shining outside the window where their mother lay still asleep in her warm bed on Christmas morning. Kay gritted her teeth. She could hear Ell sobbing, and then felt the weight of her burying into the pit under her right arm. Flip must have been lighting the burner again, because she could feel on her face the heat and light of the huge flame, and hear the rush of the gas. And she could hear him winding winches and tightening the various halyards and straps on what sounded like a thousand cleats. Then, suddenly, there was a jolt, and she heard Flip call out from close by, "Almost!" And then there was a bang and a lot of grunting as the two wraiths hoisted them-selves into position in the basket. Then silence. For an instant Kay felt nothing but the tension in the whole frame of the balloon--the buoyancy of the bag above, straining to fly free of the cold earth, the hot charged air surging up into its envelope, the creaking in the thick, ancient-looking wooden boards of the basket floor as they seemed to be nearly torn asunder between the cables above and the last taut lines below. Just for an instant. Kay only noticed that she had been holding her breath when it finally exploded from her--as the balloon broke from its last mooring and sprang into the air. Ell cried out into her side, and shook. Or perhaps that was the shuddering of the basket itself as it throbbed, then leaped into the slack of the cables, then settled again, making the whole balloon lurch sickeningly even as it shot up into the sky. Kay gasped and gasped. She squeezed her eyes tight shut again, braced her leg against something hard and drove herself into the solid wood behind her. And then, after what seemed like a single unbroken and very tense moment, during which they might as well have been falling instead of rising, she felt something warm covering her lap, and she dared to crack an eye open. "Here, pull this up to your chins," said Will as he tucked a heavy blanket round them where they huddled on the boards, under the hang of the basket's rim. The air rushing into their faces, even from their sheltered spot, was well beyond freezing; as cold as the questions that lay chill in Kay's mouth. She quickly drew the blanket up to and across their faces, putting her arm round her sister. Questions could wait. Excerpted from Twelve Nights by Andrew Zurcher All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. 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