“Aye, I hae been in helicopters many times.”
“If they daena use powder or flint?—”
“Tis another sort of fuel.”
“…and it courses through the machine. How dost ye keep it from catchin’ fire when ye are flyin’ through the sky?”
I opened my mouth, closed it. Truth was, I had no idea. “Och, I daena ken, Sean, I hae crashed in one before, but I haena hadone catch ablaze, though I hae seen that it can happen. I hae the best pilots, they must ken how tae keep it from catchin’ fire.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking up at the sky, thinking. “So they…sometimesthey catch on fire?”
“Aye, but most of the time they daena burn.”
Sean chuckled. “Mostly? Och nae, Young Magnus, ye are takin’ me tae a kingdom where men ride in iron birds powered by lightning, and the best ye can say is ‘mostly they daena burn’? What happens when it does? Dost one just leap out tae his death?”
“Ye daena want tae leap out, Sean, och, tis a far way down. I was once holding on, danglin’ from the side, near fallin’ tae the earth?—”
“I winna get in one, ye canna convince me tis safe.”
“Tis safe! I lived through it, och nae, ye are a coward. They hae belts tae hold ye in yer seat, and the men wear something called a parachute. If ye do fall it opens above ye and ye float down gentle as a thistle seed.”
He stared at me, eyes wide. “‘If ye do fall!’ Nae, Young Magnus, ye are tryin’ tae get me killed. I canna believe ye trust it.”
“Tae be truthful, I hae never much wanted tae ride one, I am always forced intae it.”
Sean shook his head, chuckling. “Ye make yer kingdom sound magnificent, the king, Magnus the First, is forced tae strap his arse intae metal bird, with lightnin’ coursin’ through it, mostly not on fire, defyin’ all sense, until it daena fly anymore, then the king will float tae the ground like a thistle seed. I hae decided, I will remain on the ground.”
I laughed despite myself. “Tis not m’kingdom forcin’ me tae?—”
“Save yer words, Young Magnus, next ye will tell me they hae machines tae wipe yer arse.”
I paused just long enough that Sean’s grin widened. “Nae, do they?”
“…they hae something called a bidet, tis a fountain that washes all the arses, not just the king’s.”
He shook his head. “Ye are goin’ tae drag us all tae a place where men fight wars from iron birds and then go home tae hae their arses pampered by fountains? I am in turns worried and lookin’ forward tae it.”
“When ye are sittin’ in the cockpit with the stick in yer hand, rainin’ fire on our enemies and then danglin’ yer arse over a delightfully warm fountain, ye will thank me.”
He nodded, his eyes sweeping the view. “I am lookin’ forward tae seein’ what trouble m’sons get up tae with a castle full of arse fountains.”
We laughed, then we both quieted, and I said, “Tis goin’ tae be verra good for yer sons, ye ken?”
“Aye, I ken, I am grateful ye are doin’ it for us, but I still worry. I want them tae be capable. I daena want them tae not understand how the world works, ye ken? I worry they will be sorely hindered.”
“They are capable, they will figure it out, or they can do as I do and pretend tae understand while they figure it out.”
“Tis fine for ye, ye are auld and a king, they are young men, young men canna be ignorant of the world. I worry they might fail.”
“At what?”
“At everything.”
I nodded then said, “They will hae titles, they will be the sons of a Duke.”
“Aye, but tae hae a title is a far cry from bein’ capable. The men in the future sound soft, but they ken how tae turn on the arse-wipin’ machine, what will happen tae my sons if they daena ken how tae turn it on?”
“I think much like m’self, they will learn tae adapt.”
