Skybreaker Read Online Free PDF Page B

months ago. After our little tête-à-tête with Mr.Szpirglas, I decided the air was no place to cook to the best of my abilities. My feet may not be quite on the ground here, but it is better, I think.”
    “The
Aurora
must miss you and your food.”
    “Yes,” he said. “This is true. Many of the officers wept openly. But to cook in Paris, at such a restaurant as this, has many compensations. And you are studying here, are you not?”
    “The Airship Academy.”
    “Very good, Mr. Cruse. Very good.”
    “Maybe when I have my own ship, I can convince you to come aboard.”
    “Ha! Maybe so, Mr. Cruse. With you as captain, I need fear no pirates, no!”
    “It’s good to see you, Mr. Vlad,” I told him. “I’ve missed you all.”
    A sous-chef in a floppy white hat appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking desperate.
    “Monsieur Vlad, le consommé!” he whispered.
    “Idiot!” roared Vlad, standing. “Can I entrust you with nothing?” He turned back to me, all smiles. “These Eiffel Tower idiots. They have much to learn. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Cruse.”
    “I will. Thank you very much.”
    With that, Chef Vlad strode into the kitchen, shouting abuse at his stricken assistants in a variety of languages.
    Moments later, my waiter mutely returned with a platter of smoked salmon and capers and all sorts of breads and crackers to eat them with, and an enormous bowl of themost delicious-looking salad I’d ever seen. The champagne cork shot out with a celebratory pop. My flute sparkled and fizzed as it filled. There’s nothing like a sip of champagne to cheer you up. All those bubbles give you quite a lift.
    Kate was forty minutes late now, but I didn’t feel so upset anymore. I fixed myself some smoked salmon and sipped at my champagne, and enjoyed watching the other guests. The Great Farini smiled at me and lifted his glass high. The Yukon gold lady winked at me. I winked back. I was feeling on top of the world. Kate would come in and find me waiting with champagne, and an array of delicious food, and a whipped waiter who would hustle over whenever I looked his way.
    The drone of an ornithopter rose above the restaurant’s buzz. I turned and glanced out the north-facing windows to see a small single-seater flying towards the Eiffel Tower, at the same level as the restaurant. At first I watched with interest, then growing alarm, as the ornithopter, feathered wings flapping furiously, did not bear away or dip down to the landing docks below the platform.
    The diners nearest the north windows had also noticed and were looking at one another in consternation.
    “Look out!” a man bellowed, and dozens of guests scattered, knocking over cutlery and wine glasses and chairs in their panic.
    The ornithopter careened ever closer, and just before it came crashing through the glass, it banked more sharply than I thought possible, and veered off around the corner. The restaurant had windows on all sides, and I had an almostuninterrupted view of the ornithopter as it made a dizzying circuit of the Eiffel Tower.
    A cheeky daredevil this pilot must be, for as he came around for the second time he lifted a hand and cheerfully waved at the very diners he’d just sent scattering. I couldn’t get a very good look at his face because he was hidden behind flight goggles and a leather helmet. Then he swung away in a wide 360-degree turn, and made a proper approach to land his ornithopter below the Eiffel Tower’s second platform.
    Waiters hurried to restore order. Tables were relaid, chairs righted, complimentary wine and champagne poured to soothe rattled nerves. It took only moments before everyone was chatting and eating again, and the whole incident might never have happened.
    Another bottle of champagne and platter of salmon had appeared on my table, even though I hadn’t finished the first ones yet. I was hungrily eyeing the salad when I heard an excited murmur ripple through the restaurant. I looked up to see an ornithopter