by Fran Wilde
He nodded to the assembled councilors. Several bobbed their heads in reply.
I’d been edging around behind Dix, getting closer to Kirit. But before I could grab her, a guard, one of the men who’d played Justice with her at Grigrit, shouted, “Enough, Doran!”
When Doran didn’t stop speaking, the man drew another glass-tooth knife from his belt and threw it.
The point edged Doran’s robe at the hip and fell away. The councilor wavered but remained standing. He spoke again. “You play with towers, you set people against each other. How will you lead when you have no more people, only game pieces?”
I moved fast then. With a piece of Djonn’s flint, I lit an oil-soaked rag we’d tied around an arrow. Shot it through the webs. It left a widening hole from its passage before it struck Doran’s attacker deep in the gut and brought him to his knees.
More shouts came from beyond the web-encircled room. The outer-tier crowd drew closer, as web walls split and dropped.
Ceetcee and Beliak appeared as one wall fell. They had Wik and Hiroli with them. Wik’s Lawsmarkers lay heavy on his shoulders, blood oozed through his robes, and he looked dazed. Hiroli appeared little better, her head lolling as Ceetcee half dragged her. Moc wasn’t with them.
“You won’t stall the Conclave again,” Dix yelled when she caught sight of Ceetcee. “You’ll be part of it.” The muscles in her arms and neck tensed. “Rumul says there must be a Conclave.”
A man in the growing crowd behind us whispered, “Skytouched.”
But Dix clutched the edge of Rumul’s sling chair, and drew back the quilt that covered the broken Singer. Blood beat hard in my ears. Moc lay in Rumul’s lap.
Dix began dragging the two of them towards the tier’s edge, her guard pulling Kirit along behind. Another guardsman started towards Ceetcee.
“In fact, he says I could have Conclave right here.” Dix motioned as if she would throw Moc from the tower immediately.
“No!” Aliati shouted. We burst through the webs, tripping on thick skeins. I landed hard on my hands and knees, then got to my feet and raced for Moc. Was he alive? I thought his chest moved, but I couldn’t be certain. A high-pitched voice behind me screamed, “Murderer!” Ciel.
Aliati turned on Dix while Ceetcee ran for Moc. She lifted him away from Rumul, then leapt from the tower. The two flew away through the illuminated night as Remembrance fires bloomed on towertops high above us.
A charging blackwing tried to wrap his arm around my neck and drag me from the tower. I ducked and twisted, and he fell free, without me.
Inside the tier, all was confusion. More of Laria’s citizens emerged and shouted at Dix’s guards, and at us. The peace of Allmoons was shattered. In the melee of blackwings and silkspinner tower fighters, few noticed a Singer fledge approaching the chair where Rumul lay. I saw her and tried to fight my way closer. Each time I knocked a guard aside, another charged me. Finally, I got clear, just as Ciel snuck close enough.
She screamed again at Dix, tears streaming. “Murderer! My brother!” A knife gleamed orange in flamelight; a small hand dropped hard to an old man’s chest. Ciel stared at the result, hands retreating from the knife hilt, eyes wide.
A towerman stumbled into me, bleeding. Then rose and ran for shelter. Meantime, Dix howled as if she’d been struck herself. “Traitors have killed the city!” She pulled a knife from the sheath on her leg and lunged at Ciel.
Aliati reached Ciel before Dix or I could. The scavenger grabbed the girl and swung her away, into the sky.
In the sling chair, Rumul stared unblinking at the burning Remembrance flags. His wheezing breath went silent. Dix threw her knife at me instead, and I ducked, readying another arrow. The blade spun through the air, struck a target. Beliak staggered, clutching his leg. He dropped to the floor.
The world slowed then, as I tried to get to Beliak. I dragged through webs, past blackwings, screams and shouts. None of that reached my ears as loudly as the spider bodies being crushed and ground to paste beneath my feet. Doran lifted Beliak and dragged him from the tower. “I’ve got him,” he yelled. “Get Dix!”
In the outer tier, Kirit helped Wik from his Lawsmarkers and into a wingset torn from a guard. Hiroli slowly pulled on another wingset. The tier was filling with smoke.
Through the smoke, Dix shouted, “They’ve kidnapped Councilor Doran Grigrit! Kirit Spirebreaker, Nat Brokenwings, and their thieves—they’ve killed … they’ve doomed the city!”
I found her then, standing beside Rumul’s chair. When she spotted me through the smoke, her lips pressed to a pale, thin line. Dix pointed at me as I approached. “There! There’s the traitor!” Nearby Laria citizens slowed, confused about whom to listen to, and who spoke the truth. A silkspinner lunged for me while Dix ran for the balcony, preparing to jump away from her attackers and the fighting. I dodged his outstretched fingers and leapt over a guard’s body, pursuing Dix. But the older woman moved faster towards the balcony than I did, towing Rumul’s chair behind her.
In the moonlight, a telltale silver gleam outlined small lighter-than-air sacks bobbing above Rumul’s head. Dix maneuvered these well clear of the flame-licked webs.
No. She would not get away like this. I drew my knife and closed the distance between us, too late.
With a great shove, Dix tipped Rumul’s seat over the balcony edge. She leapt after it, snapping her wings open. The sacks of lighter-than-air buoyed both her and the sling. She began a slow, burdened glide towards Grigrit.
I leapt into a fast gust and caught her footsling in the air. Jerked the fabric backwards. Dix flipped, and we clawed air and silk, trying to tangle each other in the tethers that held Rumul in the sky.
Grasping Rumul’s sling, I rolled hard, tearing Dix’s hands from its frame. A tether snapped, and Rumul’s body slid, hung suspended for a moment, then fell. I grabbed for it, snagged his robe, tore it. Silk in my hand, the sling rising lighter, while the body continued to fall, striking tower outcrops until it disappeared into the clouds.
I turned towards Laria again, blinking grit from my eyes. Dix circled lower, keening. My fingers gripped the sling, the silk robe.
Rumul, who had been close to death for a long time, was gone. He’d been a game piece. A remnant to be knocked over. Dix had made him a rallying cry for her cause. Something that Kirit had always refused to be.
A blackwing soared towards me. The world and the small battle within it had not stopped. But he flew past; the tethered skymouth husks hid me from view.
On Laria, the remaining web walls were on fire. Smoke choked me. Kirit huddled with Wik and Hiroli.
Below, a small circle of blue lights appeared dimly in the cloudscape, then faded. “There!” I shouted. Dix’s guards had regrouped and were headed for them. My friends leapt from the tier, wings tightly tucked. They plummeted to the glow in the clouds and disappeared.
Above me, more fliers began escaping from the tower, the blackwings coming from Grigrit now, fresh for battle and well armed. They chased us, but could not fall as fast, because they feared the clouds. That would not stop them for long, but it was enough for now.
I cut two air sacks from Rumul’s chair and sank through the night, my wings heavy with spidersilk. The plan had gone all wrong. The towers were in disarray, and we had no proof of anything to show the city except the empty robe of a dead man.
Far below the clouds, Djonn had spread the net beside the ghost tower and anchored it to the last of our skymouth husks. He double-cranked his whirlwind wings in reverse, faster now, sending gusts of air up towards the tower. Only when we were in the clouds did we extend our wings. The updraft slowed our fall.
Aliati circled, bow ready. Ceetcee landed, carrying Moc. Doran and Beliak fell into the net, then Kirit and Wik, then Hiroli, and the rest of us guided them to the tower.
When the net was clear, I helped Djonn crank the whirlwind faster, sending gusts of wind towards the tower, trying to blow our enemies back. Ceetcee bandaged Beliak’s leg as best
she could on the towertop.
They kept coming, circling in the high cloud, trying to see us in the dark. Our eyes had grown used to the dim light. Nearby a littlemouth pulsed on the tower over Ciel’s shoulder, where she sat sobbing, holding her brother. The boy moaned. I was glad to hear the sound.
Djonn groaned and stood upright, the blisters on his hands seeping. I could see sweat across his robes where they’d tucked under the lip of his brace. The whirlwind slowed, then stopped. He stared at the cloudtop: “We can’t keep them at bay.”
We’d been fools to think we could.
“You should have let me kill her, Nat. Saved yourselves more trouble.” Kirit’s voice, angry and despairing.
“No,” I said. “We tried to save everyone.” We tried. That was my pulse, saying that. We tried and lost. Dix had escaped. Her guards had a new enemy to turn the city against: us. We had no answers anymore, except Djonn. We were cloudbound. My friends were hurt. It hadn’t been enough.
On the ghost tower, we stood together as morning dawned.
The moment light pricked the mist, ten blackwings broke the clouds open. They dove for the ghost tower and the caves, looking for us.
PART FOUR
HIDDEN
Dark messengers flocked at Laria, awaiting orders. Black-winged guards tied chips to each kavik claw and sent them aloft. One by one, dark wings parted the breeze and pushed it away. They churned the air between towers. In Amrath’s shadows, a hush, then the twang of a bow. A messenger fell, but more of the kaviks flew undaunted, then returned home to roost.
CLOUDTOP (new)
None but blackwings fly the clouds.
For safety’s sake, avoid
The lowtowers and the white-spun shrouds.
COUNCIL (new)
When council speaks,
All attend; when Laws
Make, all obey.
SINTER (new)
To break a bridge,
A moment’s pause, for city’s sake.
Two towers middle-meet, unarmed
A last resort, for both to take.
24
BLACKWINGS
Aliati grabbed Ciel and scrambled to the ghost tower’s edge. They launched themselves deeper into the clouds. Beliak and Ceetcee followed, holding on to the sling chair with Djonn inside. Blood had already seeped through Beliak’s bandages.
Wik lifted Moc while Doran dragged Kirit to the tower edge. Together, they prepared to fly into the void below.
“Spirebreaker! Brokenwings!” a circling blackwing shouted. “You attacked a tower. Broke Laws. Kidnapped a councilor. You’ll be held accountable.”
“What of Rumul, the betrayer of the city? Was he held accountable?” Kirit shouted back. “What of Dix? She’ll turn on you next.”
An arrow flew past me, too close. The blackwings surged lower. They were trying to find the tower by our voices.
“Stop arguing and fly!” I yelled. I leapt from the towertop and began a fast dive, locking my wings. As the figures above receded into dim, moonlit shadows, I readied my bow. We could still hear them calling.
A strong gust curled mist skyward, and I rode it up to meet them.
The blackwings saw me coming up from the shadows and tried to turn away. My first arrow flew low, but a second pierced a guard’s wing. He fought to stay aloft long enough to reach the safety of a tower ledge, his wing sliced open and flapping.
Our pursuit reduced by one, and more cautious now, I turned and flew after my retreating friends.
Aliati, with Ciel, zigzagged ahead. “Follow,” she whistled, as I came close enough to hear. Our group coalesced around her, and she flew into the depths, echoing. The wind rushed in my ears and the towers grew close around us. We flew lower than we ever had. Above us, blackwings’ shadows flickered past, then disappeared, only to reappear dark and distant on our tail.
We dove again, desperate to get away. Any moment, I expected to strike a ridge of bone or a dim tower trunk, but Aliati continued to whistle “follow,” and we did, in a close formation that was more like falling than flying.
Soon the towers grew together to form tunnels and gaps, crannies and valleys. The wind grew trickier, with more shadows and fewer gusts. As a group, we wobbled and fell, then fought for balance again as we swept through gathering ridges. The light was tinted soft green. It played tricks on our eyes. I thought I saw joined towers. Walls. We passed beneath an old bridge that had calcified. From its spans, small towers dripped down, leaving arches and finials that would have been beautiful if they weren’t dangerous.
Moc did his best to help Wik fly straight by staying as still as possible, but Wik’s injuries made holding the boy difficult. Ceetcee and Beliak struggled with Djonn’s seat, until the two closest fliers, Kirit and Doran, took over for them and eventually cut another gas-filled bag loose. Aliati spilled wind from her wings and narrowly avoided an outcropping crusted with moss. She shouted a warning, and we scuttled out of the way. Kirit, Doran, and Djonn shot up, over the ridge, while the rest of us passed below it.
Behind us, three blackwings came out of the mist, screaming at each other. They looked disoriented and afraid. Judging by their panicked shouts, their eyes had not adjusted. Mist coated their unsealed wings, dragging at them. They didn’t see us as we hurtled away.
Aliati flew ahead of us, echoing, trying to scout the best wind. Beliak weakened behind her, the cut on his leg bleeding through his robe.
I could not see our other three fliers.
A shadow passed over us, moving faster than we had dared. A cry of fear broke the air, pierced at the end with agony. I spared a look up. A blackwing had struck the bone spur we’d barely missed. Now his wingset seemed paused midflight, stilled in time. Aloft, air-filled, and unmoving.
The other blackwings slowed, more careful now, then ended their pursuit and rose back up to the light.
I shouted to my friends to wait, to find the missing three, but Aliati continued to dive, drawing out the distance between where we’d last seen Dix’s blackwings and us. Between us and where Kirit, Doran, and Djonn had disappeared, too.
She descended lower than anyone had ever dared, taking us with her, though I whistled “stop” until my lips ran dry.
* * *
Past an overgrown bridge, we saw a wide cave. Split bones littered the ledge below its mouth.
Aliati whistled “danger,” too tired to say more. I ached to land there or anywhere. To ease the tension in my shoulders, the tremors of my arms. To look for our friends. But she was right, it was too dangerous. We slowed, lacking pursuit for the moment, hoping that Kirit and Doran could catch up. We whistled but couldn’t find them.
“We should go back,” Wik said, concerned.
Mist curled around our wingtips as we flew, searching. A breeze brushed my cheek. Scanning the clouds for a sign of my friends, I began to chuckle. We’d done it, attacked the tower. We’d lost everything. And everyone. The others laughed back, including Wik.
We flew lower, our laughter increasing.
Aliati flew among us, worried. “Stop. We have to go back up.”
Wik laughed. “I don’t see the others. The guards. Where’s Kirit? We should go lower.” He laughed harder, the sound of it high-pitched and echoing.
His laughter should have worried me, but instead, my mouth curved hard in an unstoppable smile. Ciel began laughing too, and that was even funnier. I chuckled, then joined in the laughter. Soon I was trying to catch my breath, and I couldn’t comprehend why. Next to Ciel, Ceetcee wiped away a tear and smiled. Beliak and Hiroli giggled.
Aliati shouted, “We have to go back up. Now.” She whistled “follow” again.
This made us laugh harder. She sounded so serious. My sides began to hurt. “What’s happening?” Tears streamed from my eyes. “Why can’t we find Kirit and the others?”
Ceetcee gagged and knelt on the ledge. “Why am I laughing?” Her question was a wheeze.
“We descended too fast; the depths and the air are ma
king you ill,” Aliati said. “You must follow me.” She grabbed Ceetcee, then prodded Wik with a bone hook. “Help me.”
Wik and Beliak grinned at each other, but did what she asked. I followed gamely, feeling lighter and happier than I had in many months, despite an undercurrent of worry for the others.
“Aren’t you afraid of the blackwings?” I shouted to Aliati. She hushed me, but nodded. Then she yelled at Ceetcee, and they both rose, driving Wik, Moc, and Beliak before them. I made Ciel go ahead of me, and bumbled on a turbulent gust of wind behind them until we’d reached a ledge a half dozen tiers from where we’d last seen the blackwings.
Near where we’d last seen the others.
This ledge was deep and well-shadowed, though not as protected by overgrowth as the bridge below. Wind whistled over the bone spur that rose little higher than Wik’s head.
As my head cleared, nothing seemed so funny anymore.
“What happened?” I demanded as soon as we’d settled.
Aliati looked at me, ashen. Then at Beliak, who was still smiling happily, and Ciel, who giggled with a hand over her mouth. Moc was the only one of them not laughing. “We might have to go up again even higher, if they don’t recover.”
As we stood on the ledge, a drizzle began to fall. More moisture than we’d ever seen at one time. Ciel giggled harder and opened her mouth to drink it. Choked and coughed. Ceetcee drew deep breaths, her color returning.
Somewhere nearby, I heard water running. A cloudbound waterfall.
Ciel’s giggles slowed. She looked at Wik, then at Aliati. “What’s happening?”
Aliati leaned against the ledge wall. “Scavengers have another verse of ‘Corwin and the Nest of Thieves.’”
