The eldest Master is holding the final thing I will need today: a spell crafted by the guild wizards to take me to the City above. Without that I won’t get anywhere near the prince. The Master does not yet give it to me and I eye it anxiously. I need that spell, and I am in no mood for the old man’s games.
“One more thing, mija.” I grit my teeth and hope he doesn’t see; I can’t let him see me react to that word in his mouth. He may have raised me but he isn’t my blood. I hate hearing the words of my family in his mouth but I’d long ago learned to hide it for my own survival. You should never let your captors see how much you hate them.
He just eyes me and continues. “I must caution you, mija. You may be the youngest to test for full assassin but you have not yet faced royalty, so you do not know; no matter what happens, you must not look the Prince in the eyes. Promise me.”
“Of course, Master,” I say confidently. Everyone knows not to look the royals in the eye. From our first days we are all taught not to look at anyone from the Five Families. Does he think me a child? I hold out my hand for the spell. He pauses and searches my face.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” I say, trying not to sound irritated. He acts as if this is my first kill, maybe even my last; as if he isn’t going to see me again. But the Trial is just a formality at this point, even if the mark is a Prince.
Finally, with an awkward pat on the shoulder, the old Master hands me the spell and I am gone, my leather slippers silent as I slide out into the night.
The spell is light as a wish in my pocket as I make my way through my city of perpetual darkness, wondering about the City above. No one I know besides the Masters has ever been up there; you can only get there by the will of a god or the spell of a wizard. I’m glad I have the spell; it’s much more concrete than the will of a god I’ve never met, even if he is my patron.
Soon enough I am there, at the large transport disks used to go back and forth to the City. I look up, wondering if I can see it from here, but I just see clouds and rock hanging down, the rocks that hang from the underside of the City above. We are out on the edges here and I can feel it.
Built by magic, the disks are circles set into the ground and made of a material that has no name; maybe it is a name known only to wizards. A strange light shimmers above them. The four largest disks are used for moving supplies, the food and jewels and raw magic my people harvest for the nobility living above us. The smaller ones are for people traveling between the cities. The controllers at all the transport stations somehow tell each other when cargo or people are coming and going.
I check the sky again, hoping I am not too late. But no; just as a cloud crosses over the moons past the horizon of the hanging City the controller at the nearest platform yawns and stretches and walks off, just as the Master said he would. He is taking a break, incented by some bribe or threat, so the controllers will never know an assassin is using the transport. Our guild is prestigious but many object to receiving our services; it would be best if no one is expecting me.
I walk swiftly to the nearest transport disk and as soon as my feet touch it my thumb presses down and I activate the spell. I see a flash and then the black of a night without stars and I land in a crouch on the paired transport disk up in the City in the sky, now officially the highest I’ve ever been. I hold a map of the City in my mind as I quickly look around; the controller on this side is gone as well and I disappear behind a corner before they can return.
I dare not walk around in my assassin’s gear openly in the streets up here, even at night. Night in the City above doesn’t give as much cover as I’m used to. The moons are brighter than I’ve ever seen them; is this what full daylight is like? I can’t imagine anything brighter than this. It’s almost blinding.
I dart over to the nearest building and scamper quickly up the wall, finding hand and footholds in the bricks and windowsills until I reach the safety of the roof. My heart beats fast from exertion but not from fear; I do not feel fear. I do not fear the fall.
My clothes blend in the darkness so I allow myself a moment to get oriented, looking at the streets and buildings and comparing them to the map. One thing jumps out at me right away; the streets here aren’t flat, which explains some of the markings on the map. The City in the sky is a floating island, ripped from some ancient ocean ages ago, which is why from the ground it looks like an inverted mountain. From here I see hills leading up to a peak; green paths wind up to archways that go nowhere and I can hear a splashing in the distance, the sound of water running down one side of the city and going gods only knew where. I hear it is beautiful, an impossible waterfall that comes from nowhere and goes right back to where it came from. All I’ve ever seen of it is the mist that drifts down to the Bazaar below.
And there, at the highest point of the city in the sky, is the palace of the royal family, where I will find and kill the Prince of the Air.
I wish I could see the City in the daylight. I’d love to see the suns. I’ve heard that the streets are paved with grass that never dies; the buildings glow in the light of the suns and the City is never covered by clouds, being up so high it is above them. The Palace of Air rises in obsidian spires at night but is rumoured to sparkle with crystalline rainbows during the day, under the light of the suns. The moonlight casts everything in a silver and black glow; the city is beautiful but I see enough of night, even if this is the clearest night I’ve seen. I want to see the day.
I touch the wizard’s spell in my pocket for luck and I whisper a quick prayer to the Joker and then I am off, running and leaping from building to building as I make my way closer and closer to the palace. The spell is the only way to get home and I am thankful for the seals on my pocket as I somersault and then vault up to a higher roof, grabbing a rain gutter and pulling myself up. It’s funny, I am up so high but the air up here is sweet and rich, not dirty like the air below; not thin like we are told it should be. Magic.
The palace is close now and I’m trying not to sweat off the ash on my face; I’m slick with the effort of climbing higher and higher. I am up so high now I can use something from my bag of tricks to get to the palace itself. If I hadn’t taken the roofs the only way up to the palace would be the long thin staircase that starts at the last road; a road with no cover. The path is much too visible for my kind of work.
I pull on gloves and rub my hands and feet with a sticky paste from a tiny jar stashed in one of my pouches and then from another I pull out a wad of black silk, spun by spiders in the forest of Nevel and enchanted by Guild wizards. I blow a kiss at the moons and then I let out a giant burst of air from my lungs, unfurling the terribly light spidersilk and letting it catch the air like a kite and carry me from the roof up and over the wall, up and across to the palace itself, where I hit the side and cling with my sticky gloves and shoes. The silk wraps itself around my arm and out of the way, its magic spent.
My hands and feet make tiny peeling noises as I use the sticky goo to walk over to the closest window, facing into a small bedroom, empty for the evening. Perching on the ledge, I peel off my gloves and thin leather shoes and stash them in another pouch. This is why thin leather slippers are so good; they are light, flexible, and fold up small.
I let out a silent sigh when my bare feet touch the ground and I swing the window closed. Roofs don’t bother me but flying across the sky, held aloft only by a very thin sheet of silk coated with magic, just doesn’t feel right. I feel more anchored with something under my feet. Now that I’m so close, I let myself feel the excitement I buried deep inside. I grin widely before forcing my face back to the dispassionate expression of the professional assassin. “Calm yourself,” I whisper, echoing the eldest Master and centering myself in my years of training; training that buried my feelings and sharpened my skills.
I pass ornate rooms and priceless art on my way to the prince but I cannot spare the time to dawdle and gawk, even though I am tempted. I am not a thief, here to steal shiny
things; I am one of the Gods’ assassins, sponsored by the Joker, chosen by the Priestess of the Sky. I will make the eldest Master proud. I will win my place as a full assassin; I will give up my name.
Soon enough I am outside of the Prince’s chambers. According to our information he should still be out, doing whatever princes do after dinner and before bed. I crack the door and slip in on a shadow; the door closes without a sigh and I am in his sitting room. I dart across and through into the bedroom, empty as expected. With a quick prayer to the Joker I wrap myself in a shadow spell and crouch behind a chaise to wait for his return.
CHAPTER 3
Hours pass. I tell myself I made the right decision not to explore the Palace; the Master made it clear that it was critical that I be in this room before the Prince returns. I know I can open a door without waking a sleeping man but the Master insisted; since this Trial will determine my future, I follow his instructions to the letter.
I try not to doze while I wait but it is dark and warm in here and there’s not really anything to look at so I let myself drift while I wait until, just when I’m convinced he’s not coming, the doors open and the Prince walks in.
The room lights up as soon as he enters, the lamps spelled to him. I watch him walk through the anteroom and into the bedroom, his famously ash-blond hair mussed. He looks familiar, but I am not sure why, other than his face on most of our coins. Then he turns and I have a full view of his face and I realize he is the young nobleman I saw in the Bazaar earlier this morning. His face is fuller, lazier than the face on our coins, but it is him. I feel it like ice on my skin; never have I killed someone that I know. Never have I been sent to kill someone I’ve seen in the city. This cannot be a coincidence.
I do not like this.
I chew on my lip as I study his face and I remind myself why I’m here; this is the price of my freedom.
He has clearly been out all day after being out all night. His clothes are rumpled and his face is puffy from drink. His death will bring me no honor, just as his carousing clearly does not bring honor to his family. He’s a waste of royal blood, but who am I to judge? Maybe up here where no one works and there is no poverty or death or strife they know nothing other than parties and drink and soft living. I can still hear the sneer in his voice as he flipped me a coin for saving his life.
I judge him anyway. Someone has ordered his death and, while it will not be especially challenging, I will do what I must. Haunted by the memory of blood, I decide not to use my knives; I will use the garrote to finish him.
Drunk as he is, I still take no chances; I do not move while he changes into nightclothes, and I concentrate on holding the shadows around me so he cannot see me even if he comes close to the chaise. He’s humming and half singing some drunken song as he stumbles around his room and finally collapses into his bed.
He’s snoring within minutes. I slide the garrotte out of its pouch, the thin cord slick in my hands, ending in two sticks of wood the width of my middle finger. The cord will cut into him and draw a thin line of blood while I choke the life out of him; the blood will serve as proof of death when the wizards get the cord back from me, so everyone will know it is done and that I deserve to be a full assassin. My heart beats fast with excitement but I ignore it; this is my future. There is no room for mistakes.
I step carefully over to his bedside and stretch the garrotte. There is a little gap of air between his neck and his very soft pillow; I slide one of the handles underneath, close enough to smell him. Oddly, he doesn’t smell of alcohol; just mint and vanilla and sandalwood. Something about that bothers me as I wrap the garrote around his neck and start to twist the handles together, tightening the cord.
Just as it is about to get its first taste of his skin, biting into his neck, his eyes flash open. I’m so close to him; I can see they are blue flecked with green and circled in gold, the famous eyes of the royal family. I can’t look away. I feel like I’m falling.
“No,” he cries out, his hands coming up and covering mine.
We are trained to expect fighting and resist pleading and begging. You never know what someone will do at the end. But he surprises me.
“Stop,” he commands, and I do. I stare at my hands and will them to twist the garrotte but they don’t. I don’t know what to do; the Masters have not trained me for this, for my own body not obeying me. I feel dizzy.
“Get that thing off me,” he commands, and my hands, no longer my own, unwind the garrotte and slide it away from his neck. There isn’t even any blood on it.
He watches me closely but there is no fear on his face, just speculation, as he sits up and rubs his neck.
“Guild or contract?” he demands. My own snobbery would compel me to answer, even if he didn’t have control of me like he does.
“Guild, of course.”
He looks...sad. “Well. That explains a few things.”
I stare at him blankly until he continues.
“I should have paid attention when the Priestess said my time at the palace was coming to an end. I thought they were going to send me away for a late fostering or early ambassadorship, not order my death.” He runs a hand through his unruly hair.
“What is your name? I’m going to need to call you something.”
I don’t want to give him my name but he’s looking me in the eye again and I have no choice. I curse the eldest Master for not being more explicit; it seems the royals can control us with their eyes. My head feels heavy and strange.
“Alinya.” My voice is sullen. I am struggling to get control. He looks closer at my face, the ash not really hiding much.
“Were you the urchin in the Bazaar?” he asks, incredulous. “Were you trying to kill me then?”
I shake my head, irritated. I wonder if he is always stupid or if it is the result of his drinking. “Of course not; I was saving you from the thieves in the marketplace. I didn’t even know who you were; I just didn’t want a bloodbath, especially not on the day of my Trial.”
He snorts but doesn’t argue. He looks around the room, considering.
“Call me Zair, Alinya, since we will be spending some time together. You are going to smuggle me out of the palace and take me away from the City before my mother succeeds in killing me.”
CHAPTER 4
I’m having trouble processing this. One moment I’m fulfilling my duty, killing the spoiled and useless Prince of the Air, and the next I’m tying us together with spider silk so we can escape from the Palace I just broke into. He has stuffed his pockets and a money pouch with jewels and coins, and also made me stash some in any space I can find in my own pockets. I don’t have the heart to tell him the jewels will be useless as currency, but they are pretty. The city below doesn’t trade in jewels; no one can afford them. All the jewels mined by the down-below girls are sent up here.
I don’t think he would care anyway. He is desperate to leave. After changing into street clothes and filling his pockets he hands me a cloak to hide my assassin’s clothes. I feel the pride of my guild and I do not want the cloak with its flashy colors but he commands it, staring at me with his strange eyes. Our legends tell that when our people first came here, from a world with only one sun and one moon, we didn’t have any magic or powers or the Five Families, but I can’t imagine a time when things were so different. We have always been slaves.
As Zair throws the gold and red cloak around my shoulders and stashes gemstones like a squirrel I realize the royal family is even more different than I’d thought. I tie the cloak around me tightly so it won’t flap around and we perch on his windowsill for a moment while I orient myself. His window faces a different part of the city than where I came in and I haven’t studied this section at all.
He sees my face and tries to reassure me, which would be funny if I weren’t still in shock at failing to kill him. I’m sure I’ll get another chance; I certainly want one.
“I know where we are going.” He points across the city. “We need to get to the
far edge of the city. Can you get us close?”
I have to think about it but then I nod, calculating. “I think so. We are high enough here that we can make it to the edge before we hit the ground.”
We check the silk wrapped around our wrists. All three moons are out and the city looks beautiful, winding creeks and small falls and ponds scattered among the grassy roads, wrapping in rings around the city. The view from the palace is incredible, everything laid out for us to see, and I waste a moment wishing I were here under different circumstances. But wishes are wasted on my kind.
The light from one of the moons changes and I see a shadow move behind me in the room just as the wind starts to rise.
“Now, Alinya?” the Prince asks me, and I can’t answer him, all I can do is stare at the face hidden in one of the shadows of the Prince’s bedroom. The eldest Master. The wind tugs at the silk and my heart beats wildly and the Master stands and glides toward us, silent in his bare feet. He holds a finger to his lips and he has a knife in his other hands and for a moment, a perfectly balanced moment, I do not know if he is here to kill me or the Prince. I don’t have time to think.
“Now!” I tell Zair, and with a movement I’d practiced with him moments before, we shake out the silk sheet and let it pull us out the window and take us drifting across the city, road after road rippling out below us. There are houses below us, and shops, with spires and signs and so much color, color I can see now with all three moons, and just like I’d hoped for earlier the twin suns start to rise and the entire city lights up below us.
The light hurts my eyes, the City sparkling with all the colors I’ve ever seen and some I’d only heard of, and even in the green grass of the roads and path there are crystals that catch and refract the light. I gasp, stunned, and Zair calls to me over the noise of the wind, “This is the most beautiful city in the world, Alinya. This is why I brought my jewels; I will never see my home again. I wanted to bring something that would remind me of home.”
Empire of Sky Page 2
