I had a lovely break from my solitude today, for Marc came to visit, and he brought Amelie with him! It was but the briefest of visits—should the Provençese return to Bois-de-Bas they must find Amelie present there, or they will never believe I have run. I quite scolded Marc for his recklessness, smiling all the while. He merely laughed at me. But Amelie and our child-to-be are quite well, and it did my heart good to see them.
They came immediately after divine worship, bringing with them some fresh food (eggs, a jug of milk, and a small cake, for Sonnedi), assured me that I was not forgotten, and then vanished again, having helped me eat the cake.
Marc cast a few longing looks at my sole completed sky-chair, and I could tell that he wished to take it back to Bois-de-Bas with him; it must weigh hard on him being the only means of communication with me on Le Blaireau. But first he must train another to operate the chair he has—and I am of no mind to rid myself of my only way of returning home at need. Still, it is clear that I must finish yet another sky-chair post-haste.
I have been entirely lazy today, at least in the matter of manual labor, for of course it is Sonnedi; and I am still consumed with pondering the design of Le Blaireau. I had to do a few arithmetical exercises to be sure, but now I think I understand.
The reason the great sky-ships do not use formed elements for propulsion in more than the most modest way is simply a matter of scale. The relevant elements in Le Blaireau—the keel, the rudder, the lifting element in the railings, and the small element for moving about the harbor—are all formed as single hardened pieces. This adds greatly to their durability, as the women of Bois-de-Bas can attest of their cookware, but it is difficult to form elements of such size. One former working by himself can only do so much. A team of formers working together can do more—must do more, for the enormous sky-freighters and warships—but working in teams is also difficult, and formers are rare and expensive.
At the same time, the simpler the task, the easier it is; and the lifting element and keel have been designed to be as simple as possible and still perform their functions. Simply put, a single propulsive element capable of moving a sky-freighter at speed would be enormous and enormously expensive. One could do rather better on a sloop such as Le Blaireau, for it is quite small as ships go, but the effort might well still be inordinate.
And then there is the design of the ship to consider. The force of any such propulsive element must be carefully placed, and the structure of the ship designed to transmit that force properly to the ship as a whole. It would be quite useless if the propulsive element was so strong that it ripped itself clear of the ship! A standard sky-ship, on the other hand, makes use of the tried-and-true designs of water-going ships, with their keels and masts and rigging and so forth. The forces are well understood.
And yet…need the propulsive element be formed as a single piece? It seems to me that many small elements working together, perhaps distributed about the vessel, might do very well, and achieve the same force as a single much larger element. Control would be more difficult, and the…collection? Congerie? Yes, the congerie would be more susceptible to damage than a single element. But if the propulsive elements were hardened, and part of the structure of the conveyance, as they are in my sky-chairs…. Truly, I think something might be done.
The classic design’s advantages of strength and durability are undeniably, especially on a long voyage through the Abyss, especially with no former to fix storm damage. But of course I am a former; and for local use—and local defense—it might be possible to build a number of smaller vessels along entirely new lines. Vessels that do not require masts, vessels that are easily hidden, vessels that might give us a fighting chance if Le Maréchel comes calling. Yes, and it might be possible to harden the rest of their members, too.
I must have materials, and I must have help. More, I must have room, and that means a permanent camp, which means that we must dispose of Old Man Blaireau.
I shall certainly complete another sky-chair tomorrow.