Cloudbound

by Fran Wilde

  “Describe this Singer,” Kirit said. Her voice cracked.

  “Gray wings,” Djonn said. I shook my head. Anyone could wear a pair of gray wings. We knew that now. “Tattoos, like some of yours.” His fingers traced shapes on his face. A knife. A spiral.

  “A spiral. Like this?” Kirit held up her hand. Djonn bobbed his head. Yes.

  A low growl rumbled from Kirit’s throat. “Only one person had marks like that. A very dead Singer.”

  “What were his injuries?” I wasn’t following Kirit’s line of questioning. I knew some of the tattoos, but not specific ones. “What did this Singer look like?”

  “He’d broken his back. His legs were dead. His arms too. He couldn’t talk. Dix said he whispered to her. She could understand him. And she carried him, which was easier because he was very thin. Worse than me.” Djonn put a hand over his scalp, thinking. “He was bald, so I could see he had a big scar on his head, too.”

  Realization bloomed on Kirit’s face before I fully understood. She bolted for the door, knife drawn, but Beliak and Ciel caught her. Meanwhile, in the span of two breaths, I held Djonn by the robe. The cook fire guttered. I pushed Djonn backwards until his back was against the cave, bone brace against bone wall.

  Aliati’s own knife glinted as she held it up in the lamplight, near me. “Everyone, stop. Djonn has done nothing but tell us what he knows.”

  Beliak moved behind Aliati, ready to stop her from striking anyone.

  “Rumul,” Kirit said, coming to stand closer to Djonn, dragging Ciel with her. Ciel whimpered and pulled her fingers from Kirit’s grip. Shook them in the air.

  I held out my hand for Aliati’s knife. Only when she’d given it to me did I release Djonn.

  “When did you last see the Singer?” Ceetcee asked Djonn. Her voice was gentle.

  “Before Aliati took me from the Spire. Dix came, carrying the Singer. Dix wanted the gas, my tools.” Djonn put a foot possessively on top of a metal case. “She couldn’t take them. She grew so angry, she said she’d kill me one day, when I was no longer useful. Then she told me why Rumul still lived.”

  Djonn looked outside, eyes searching the clouds for hunters, then back at us.

  “What did she say?” Kirit asked, her voice tight.

  He swallowed hard. “Dix said she kept him because—for better or for worse—he’d been the city’s last true leader. That he was still useful. She said that the city was unlucky now because it lacked strong leaders. That it couldn’t rise without them. With Rumul under her control, Dix said she’d become the leader the city needed.”

  * * *

  The circling hunters tightened their path, drawing close around us. They hadn’t discovered the valley or the cave yet, thanks to the cloud cover, but each time their wing shadows appeared near the ridge wall, I knew they were closer.

  As the sun set below the clouds, it tinted the towers and ridges around us red and orange.

  Kirit hugged the entrance arch, leaning against the grate. “We need to talk to Dix.” The way she said it, it didn’t sound like she planned to talk much at all.

  “We will,” I said to her. I put my hand on her shoulder, but she flinched it away. “But we have to leave here first,” I said. “And we’re taking Djonn with us.”

  Aliati protested. “How can I know we’ll be safe with you now?”

  “You’re not any safer here,” I said. “As for us, I could tell you secrets to gain your trust, or lies. But I won’t. You’ll be safe with me as long as you are honest with me.”

  She nodded, thinking. “As good as you get with scavengers. Take the equipment you can carry. Take the tools.”

  Outside, silk rustled in the wind. A pair of black wings dipped past the cave. Another pair followed.

  I looked to Ceetcee and Beliak, Ciel and Kirit. “Move away from the entrance.” Mentally counting arrows, I wondered if the two blackwings had friends.

  If not, we seven stood a chance.

  But Aliati pushed aside the jumble of equipment, revealing a low tunnel through the bone. “There’s another way out. Follow me.” She reached out a hand to Djonn and pulled him through the tunnel. They moved down the path, and the rest of us followed, until the tunnel opened out into a larger passage. Djonn straightened painfully and balanced his lopsided weight on Aliati’s shoulder. They kept moving.

  This wasn’t a cave on the ridgeline. This was a tangle of passages. As we ran along the path, metal gleamed at intersections. The bone ridge’s interior had been purposefully shaped into a shelter long ago. The spikes, and even a few rectangular plates were weather- and age-worn and looked very old. Ceetcee balked at the entrance, then took a deep breath and put her hand on Beliak’s shoulder. She followed us in.

  “You know your hiding places in the clouds well,” I said to our scavenger.

  Aliati frowned but kept moving, her breath coming fast from the effort of helping Djonn. “People used to live down here. Remember? We’re close to where several towers stopped growing. I’d heard rumors about this one, but no one ever comes here. Took a chance when I needed a place to hide Djonn. Found where the council fell when I came back to bring his supplies.”

  A small hand dragged on my sleeve. “How much farther?” Ceetcee whispered, her voice tight. We seemed to be ascending deeper into the ridge, not out of it.

  Aliati answered. “We’re going back to the ghost tower, if we can make it to the other side of the ridge. Otherwise, there’s one other hideaway that I’ve heard of. But it’s far and dangerously low. Scavengers say it’s—” She turned to look at me. “I want the city to know we helped you. That we aren’t part of the attacks.”

  “They’ll know,” I promised. The path brightened and pools of cloud ran along the floor. A breeze brushed my cheeks. Aliati’s strong arms lifted Djonn to her chest and crossed her wingstraps over his shoulders too. He tucked his legs around the backs of her knees, light as a child.

  “Try to keep up,” she said. And then she dove into the darkness.

  I lifted Ciel and flew her the same way; both of us on my wings was still faster than her fledge wings.

  Kirit and Ciel both echoed, although Kirit stopped now and then and had to be snapped aware with a brusque “Kirit!” from Ceetcee. We moved quickly through the moonlit clouds, away from the ridgeline now below us.

  Once, looking back, a glimmer of skymouth appeared outlined against the darkness. Once, I glimpsed black wings passing in the distance. I whistled to Aliati, and we sank lower in the clouds. No blackwings pursued us farther on our flight from the ridge.

  We stopped once to get our bearings, at a low outcrop near the Spire’s trunk. After Aliati confirmed we were going the right way, she and Ceetcee flew a circuit of the area to make sure we could approach our cave without being observed.

  Several blue luminescent pulses at varying distances in the haze kept us company while we waited, until it became too light to see them. Now that we knew that they were littlemouths signaling, their presence comforted.

  “What do you think they’re saying to each other?” Ciel wondered.

  Beliak watched them thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re telling each other that they’re not alone.”

  That seemed to satisfy the girl, who leaned against Kirit and closed her eyes, whispering, “You’re not alone.”

  Before Aliati and Ceetcee returned, the sky darkened, then brightened again, sunrise replacing moonlight. We took off in early morning light, singing The Rise softly.

  By the time we reached the ghost tower, we were exhausted. We circled up to the towertop, where Doran waited with his scope, scanning the clouds for signs of us.

  20

  PROOF

  Kirit made a mad landing, furling her wings while still in the air. She dropped beside Doran. The fall jarred her injuries, and she yelped, then shouted at the councilor from Grigrit, “You dare come here?”

  I rushed my own landing, just as Kirit tried to grasp Doran’s throat.

  “Easy,” I said
as gently as I could, pulling her back. “He’s not your enemy.” I tried to see where Doran had placed his guards, but could not spot any nearby.

  Kirit turned on me, eyes wild, scars livid. “He’s close enough! Dix fought when he asked. Dix knows the man whose knife—” She bit back her last words and spun towards Doran again, who looked astonished to see her. “Where is Dix?”

  Doran addressed me, not her, his voice loud in the mist. “I wasn’t followed. You gave good directions.” Now Kirit looked like she wanted to throttle me instead. Doran continued, “But what do you mean by bringing this Singer unbound to threaten me. Is she your proof?” He had one hand tucked inside his robe, and he’d swapped out his fancy Liras Viit wings for those of a Varu guard.

  Kirit struggled against my grip on her robes. “You are not innocent!”

  “She’s not my proof,” I said, hanging on to my friend. “Ezarit is gone.” Kirit did not bend, she did not weep when I said it. She turned hard and silent as bone.

  Doran’s demeanor collapsed into shock. Sorrow clouded his eyes. “I feared this, but hoped she would be found.”

  “You aren’t allowed to hope anything,” Kirit said to him. To me.

  “I’m trying to help,” I said. Kirit had to understand.

  The others landed, and Ceetcee tried to pull Kirit away. Only when Ciel clasped her hand did Kirit take a step back. Aliati landed a few steps away carrying Djonn, with Beliak close behind. He nudged the scavenger towards me.

  “My proof,” I said looking Doran in the eye, “is the artifex, here.”

  Aliati cried out. “You said we would be safe!” She put a hand to her knife hilt.

  With everyone furious at me, I continued, “The artifex is under my protection, as is his guard and friend. If you don’t agree, we will disappear into the clouds again, and you will be lost. Listen to what they have to say.”

  We made Djonn tell Doran his story again. When he said “Rumul,” Doran interrupted. “Singers! I knew it. Clouds take them all.”

  “Don’t you see?” I said. “It’s not Singers. Dix has Rumul, but he can’t speak, can’t walk. She’s helping him, or controlling him.”

  My proof laid out, I waited for Doran to react. Had I been wrong to give him another chance? Would he tell the council, and end the Conclave? Then we could come back above the clouds, and Ceetcee and Elna would be safe. Ciel would be safe. And Kirit could find the man who owned that knife.

  But Doran’s face reddened and his fists clenched at his sides. “She’s doing more than that. In the short time you’ve been under the clouds, Dix has roused the city against me for putting off the Conclave.” He looked at me as if this was partly my fault. His voice thickened with anger, but he didn’t shout. “If we hadn’t waited for you, she wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

  “If you hadn’t waited,” Aliati said, “she would have found other means. You fell for a show of loyalty. Now she’s making her move.”

  “To what end? What does she want?” Ceetcee asked.

  I shook my head. “Power.” What I’d thought I wanted, once.

  Doran shook his head. “Her kaviks have spread messages across the towers enjoining citizens to return to protecting the city. Some say the city is unlucky now but that she can fix it.” He held up a skein of chips and showed us. “Her kaviks attack birds they don’t know. They almost killed Maalik.”

  The councilor withdrew his other hand, heavily bandaged, from his robe. He held my whipperling out to me. Maalik’s feathers were mussed, and blood speckled his wing and breast. “I fought the kaviks off with my bare hand. I’ll shoot them from the sky next time.”

  I took Maalik and held him gently. He settled in my hands, cooing. His heart pulsed, rapid but steady against my fingers. “Thank you.” Dix will pay for all of this. “Where are your guards?” Why didn’t they help you?

  Doran reddened again. This time, the words came slower. “My blackwings, most of them, have left. Dix promised them a revelation after Conclave: a way to move forward, while harnessing the strength of the past. She’s promising to fix the towers, to rise again, but to do so, she must throw down Wik, Moc, and the protesters from the Spire at Allmoons. She is demanding you, Nat, and your party as part of the appeasement.”

  The ghost tower bristled: all our knives, bows, and sharp edges appeared before he finished speaking. Ceetcee cried, “Betrayal,” as I scanned the clouds for guards, expecting to have to defend my friends from my mentor. Kirit held her knife ready to throw it at the clouds. But Doran shook his head. “I’ve changed winds, Nat. Whether or not Dix was involved, the council attack made a hole in the city’s leadership, and she has stepped in to fill it. She’s fanning people’s superstitions, their twined love and fear of the city.”

  Doran lowered himself to sit on the towertop, mist swirling around him. He looked tired, and much older than I’d ever seen him look. I didn’t stow my weapons. “I refused to support her methods when I learned what they were—especially not the fledges. I won’t condone her actions now.” He paused and met my gaze. “Don’t worry. Elna is safe on Varu, with loyal friends. With my family.”

  “Where is Dix?” Kirit asked again, staring into the mist.

  “She’s taken control of the lighter-than-air storage on Laria. Says she won’t help any towers that do not tithe to her. She’s allied herself with the poorest towers, and is encouraging them all to rise up against the city. That blasted game—Justice—is in every tower. And each time it appears, market riots follow. Plus, her kaviks are everywhere; few messages get through any longer, except for hers. With the exception of the northwest and Macal, few city councilors are willing to oppose her. In those that do, their towers are turning on themselves.”

  Beliak shook his head. “The towers are smart. They must know she’s behind the riots and the fighting.”

  “The towers are afraid,” I said. “And superstitious.”

  Doran blinked. He’d tried to use fear as political leverage. Now he’d been deposed by it. “Dix says she’s found a way to bring the city luck again. Those who wish to live within it must tithe to her, and must allow the Conclave.”

  “She is cloudtouched,” Ceetcee said. “She’s got nothing to offer.”

  “On the contrary,” Doran sighed. “She’s got the south. Bissel and Laria.” He sighed heavily. “And Grigrit.”

  “Worse than that,” I realized, “she’s got captives to throw down.”

  * * *

  Shaking off Ciel’s grip, Kirit said, “I’ll stop her. I’ll end this.”

  “You will do nothing of the sort,” Doran said. “We need Dix alive.”

  “We?” She looked at Doran, then at me, and laughed. A hollow sound. “You two made a bargain, not me.”

  I couldn’t argue. But Kirit had turned back to Doran. “Why do we need her alive?” Her look of anger and sorrow spoke more evocatively than her words. Why does Dix get to live while Ezarit does not?

  Doran pressed his lips together and massaged his injured hand, stalling. “Dix has manipulated the city better than anyone: her kaviks spread conflicting messages. People don’t know what to believe, except that the city is unlucky. They can see as much in the cracked Spire, in all the Remembrance banners. The Justice game reminds them of tower war. Dix has the city so riled up that one wrong move, one bad death, could set off just that war. Unless she swoops in to fix everything.”

  He was right. We needed Dix alive, and Rumul too. We needed to argue a case before the city, with proof. They might not give willing testimony, but it was easier to see the faults of the living than the dead.

  One look at Kirit told me she disagreed. She seethed as she leaned on Ciel’s shoulder. Would she listen?

  Ciel tightened her grip on Kirit’s hand. “We’ll make it all right again,” she said.

  “Maybe,” Beliak said. Ceetcee knelt, tired, on the towertop, back against his legs. He turned on Doran. “We are seven. I have no love for Dix, nor Rumul. Nor much for you either, after e
verything that’s happened. Will you put yourself at risk to stop Dix’s Conclave?” He looked at me, then away. “So far, you’ve been happy letting others do your dirty work.”

  A sharp pain at my wrist. I’d twisted the blue silk cord so hard, it left a purpling dent. I wanted to reach out to Beliak, to say I was sorry. That I’d made mistakes and was trying to fix them. But I couldn’t here, not in front of Doran. I gave the cord another twist and stayed silent.

  Doran frowned and bowed his head, but his was face red and angry. He looked like he had at Grigrit, when Kirit questioned him. I braced, prepared to fight him if I had to. Beliak did as well.

  But Doran sighed. “I understand. My mistakes have been terrible, and my accomplishments are no trade for them.”

  Ceetcee rose and stepped forward until she was toe-to-toe with the councilor. She was smaller than him, and exhausted, but she held his gaze unflinchingly. “You will not lead us, Doran. But you may join us in the clouds.” Her voice was as light as silk wing, and as strong as the battens shaping that wing.

  For a moment, Doran’s face fell, his eyes softened. Then his cheeks reddened again. “I am still a councilor.”

  Kirit watched him carefully.

  “What’s your reasoning?” I asked Ceetcee.

  She looked at us all. “We need Doran’s connections, the guards who are still loyal to him, if we want to rescue Wik, Moc, and Hiroli, and end Dix’s pursuit of us. I don’t doubt Doran wants to regain power.” She didn’t embellish. “But I think in the end he intends well for the city. I don’t think the same of Dix. I think she intends only to do well for herself.” She’d made a bridge between our two goals, and when she was finished, she sat down to rest again.

  We watched the two halves of Doran’s emotions struggle like the skymouth and bone eater had in the clouds. I willed the calmer side out, but knew now that the real Doran, the one with fears and anger, the one who needed loyalty, was the one who could betray us. It was the source of the fault in his politics that allowed Dix to sneak in and subvert his work.