A third push saw the bubble encompass the entire heavy lifter. With one last shower of sand, the air was clear. Cries of relief and confusion rose up out of the storm's roar.
Shilly stood up to check the extent of the charm. Sal hadn't killed the storm completely; he had simply formed a quiet patch at its heart. The wind still swirled around them, just outside the gondola. The sand hissed like a snake trying to get in, reminding her of something she had recently dreamed.
“Let's not sit here gawping!” she shouted, feeling the effort it was taking to maintain the charm against the combined will of all the yadachi. Sal's eyes were closed as he concentrated on maintaining the image in his mind. “We haven't got all day!”
The wardens kicked into action, rolling up ropes and readying themselves for the next step. Everything was covered with sand, prompting more than a few sneezes. Shilly's eyelids felt rough and raw.
Skender and Chu called for help with directions. The way ahead was completely obscured by the storm. Abi Van Haasteren moved painfully forward to lend her assistance: with Sal otherwise engaged and the heavy lifter back in Stone Mage territory, she and Skender were the only active Change-users in the gondola. Shilly could feel their wills probing through the storm like insect antennae, searching for their destination. It wasn't long before a shadow slid over the heavy lifter. They had reached the tower, safe and sound.
That wasn't the end of their trials, though. A giant, hairless man with ornate tattoos all over his scalp and upper body—the quartermaster, Shilly assumed—waved at them from the uppermost ramp. Chu guided the dirigible as close as she dared, and the wardens tossed out their ropes. The man caught them and tied them to rings at the edge of the platform. The heavy lifter strained against the ties as the sandstorm raged around it, but the knots held.
Shilly shook her head in denial as rope ladders followed the ties. The gap between gondola and platform might be only a few metres but there was no way she was going to be able to cross the distance, not with her leg still sore from the chase that morning.
The first warden went across as soon as a ladder was in place, stretched horizontally through empty air. She crabbed from rung to rung to the far side, swinging like a child on play equipment, apparently paying no mind at all to the drop beneath her. Another rope ladder followed, allowing wardens to disembark two at a time. The gondola rocked as the weight it bore steadily lessened. Tom clambered over with his eyes tightly shut, followed by Kemp. All too soon there was only Sal, Shilly, Marmion, Skender, and Chu left. Mawson had been bundled up in a rope sling and swung over like a side of beef. Chu's wing had gone the same way. Shilly would be cursed rather than suffer the same indignity. She shook her head violently when Marmion suggested it.
“We don't have time to argue, girl,” he said, a gust of wind making his thin hair wave like seaweed.
“The rest of you go,” she said, looking over the edge of the gondola. The storm hid any view of the ground, but she knew it was horribly far down. “I'll stay here with Chu.”
“I'm going, too,” the flyer called back. “The quartermaster will take the lifter away and put it down in the hangar to distract the yadachi. They're tracking Skender's licence, so the quartermaster will take that with him as well. If we stay here too long, they might figure out what we're up to.”
Shilly felt a mixture of shame and anger, the latter directed firmly at herself. The plan made perfect sense. She was the one thing holding it up.
Because she couldn't bear the thought of being separated from Sal for another moment, she finally agreed. Skender and Marmion lashed a rope seat around her waist and thighs and gave her another rope to hold onto. Then she was being hauled across the gap with all the grace of a reluctant cow herded onto a cart. She hoped her eyes weren't as wide with fear as they felt.
Hands caught her on the far side and helped her to her feet. Skender followed with her walking stick, and he handed it to her as the last of the ropes around her fell away. Marmion came next. The quartermaster went to relieve Chu, allowing her to cross while he kept the dirigible stable. Then it was Sal's turn.
Shilly watched with concern as he climbed over the edge of the gondola and took hold of the ropes. His movements were slow and deliberate, so as not to break his concentration. Even so, the need to balance took its toll on the charm. Thick tendrils of sand curled around the dirigible with the sound of a brush fire, making him blink. He stopped halfway across, swaying, and it seemed for a moment as if distraction might get the better of him. Shilly put a hand over her mouth, wishing she could do something to help.
When he started moving again, it was all she could do not to cry out with relief and encouragement. One step, two steps, three—then finally he was within reach of the wardens. They hauled him to safety just as the bubble collapsed and the storm returned in full force.
“Cut it free!” The wardens took up Marmion's cry as Shilly gripped Sal's arm and hurried him away. She could feel the platform bucking under her as the weight of the dirigible pulled at it. “Cut it free!” Ropes snapped with twanging sounds. The heavy lifter's engine throbbed. She felt rather than saw it pull away. The last thing she saw were the propellers glowing like eyes, fading into the swirling sand.
They hurried off the platform before the sheltering storm dissipated. “This way!” Chu led them to a wide, wooden cage suspended over a steep drop by thick chains. When they were all inside, she pulled a lever and it began to descend. The sound of the wind and the stink of sand faded.
“What are we going to do next?” asked Skender. “The quartermaster won't fool them for long.”
“When we reach the Black Galah, we'll split up,” said Marmion. “Half of us will get the vehicles. The rest will break the others out of house arrest.”
Shilly wasn't thinking that far ahead. “I'll just be glad when I have solid ground back under my feet.” The cage was moving too slowly for her liking. She imagined them sinking into a ring of city guards like turkeys in a cage, ready for the chop.
The fear proved to be groundless. The base of the tower was deserted, the only sound the eerie, distant wail of the yadachi.
“The atmospherics have scared everyone off,” said Chu. “No one in their right mind would come anywhere near here right now.”
They bundled from the cage and out into the street. Shilly shook gritty sand from her robes and hair. The heart of the storm was swinging away, following the heavy lifter. Echoes of the yadachi's wailing song shifted and faded around them, a constant, ululating background. The confines of the city seemed especially close after the endless vistas of the sky.
“I'll just slow you all down,” she said as Marmion gathered the wardens together. “You go ahead. I'll catch up.”
“I'm not leaving you here alone,” said Sal.
“I didn't mean you.” She took his arm. “You're staying to keep me company.”
“Me, too,” said Skender. “You'll need me to show you the way.”
“Then I'll have to stay, too,” said Chu, hefting her end of the wing.
“No,” said Marmion. “I need someone to give us directions, too, and we have plenty of spare hands. Tom can help you carry the wing.”
“But—”
“Chu, please. The fewer stragglers, the better. We may have to leave in a hurry.”
Skender's mother looked like she might argue as well, but Marmion was making sense. Even Shilly had to admit it.
There was no time for farewells as the wardens hurried off, furrow-browed Shom Behenna bringing up the rear. The odd bunch moved as one, driven by grim determination. So much was left undone: the Caduceus, Pirelius, the Homunculus, Highson Sparre. A handful of outsiders versus an entire city. If Marmion thought it was hopeless, he didn't let it show.
Chu looked over her shoulder at Skender, her expression unreadable, then she rounded a corner and was gone.
“In the flickering flame and the crumbling stone, in the stagnant water and air turned stale, we perceive the end that awaits u
s all.”
THE BOOK OF TOWERS, FRAGMENT 110
The three of them stood for a moment in the streets of Laure. It occurred to Sal that it was the first time they had been alone in one place since the Haunted City. He felt fourteen again, just for a moment. They looked awkwardly at each other, waiting for someone to take the lead.
The sound of booted feet approaching snapped him out of it.
“I think that's our cue.”
“Right behind you, Skender,” said Shilly.
“Okay. Along here should do for a start.”
They hurried across the street and ducked down an alley lined with vases full of dead plants and painted-over windows. Sand pooled in the corners and drains. Sal called up a mnemonic he hadn't used since leaving Fundelry, one designed to divert attention from them, if they didn't move quickly enough.
“You came this way before?” Shilly asked, the two-step rhythm of her gait echoing off the brick walls.
“Not exactly, but don't worry. I've seen the city from the air. It's all in my head now. And this way we avoid the yadachi.”
Sal allowed Skender's point. The longer they could keep the red-robed bloodworkers off their back, the better.
They took a left at the end of the alley and then an immediate right. The clouds parted and the sun appeared. Shadows lengthened as the day aged and the yadachi's song eased. The sky to the east remained brown. Sal could hear the storm howling in the distance. He was glad to be out of it, and even gladder to be no longer fighting it. Breaking was easier than creating—undoing the work of the yadachi took a lighter toll on him than had whipping up the brief flurry in the Divide that had saved him and Skender from falling to their deaths—but he still felt the cost of it. Something at the core of him was drained, as though his bones had gone soft. Maintaining the small concealment charm took an effort.
They hurried through the streets. Citizens gradually reappeared, people coming out to sweep off steps or wipe dust from windows. They gave the strangers in their midst no more than a quick glance. A chained guard dog barked at them from a fenced-off yard, making Skender jump. Two dark-skinned children with hair in plaits waved at them from an open doorway, and Shilly waved back.
Skender had taken off the licence in the heavy lifter. The tattoos on his arms and face had dwindled back to nothing. His eyes had returned to their normal colour. His ochre robes remained ragged and his face bruised, but the lack of obvious Change-working made him slightly less conspicuous.
“So, tell us about your girlfriend,” Shilly said to him, prompting a look of panic.
“Girlfriend? What? Did Chu say something to you about that?”
“No.”
“Oh.” A flurry of conflicting emotions passed over his features. “Right.”
Shilly couldn't hide her enjoyment at his reaction. “How did you meet?”
Skender told her the story Sal was already familiar with: that he had been rescued by Chu from the tunnels under Laure and agreed to help her get her licence back. Sal listened with amusement. Just like Skender of old, always getting into tight spots and requiring help to get out of them. It didn't sound like he was having much luck with his side of the deal.
“Did your father really send you here?” Shilly asked. “I can't imagine him letting you out of his sight again.”
Skender shrugged. “He's the same as ever. A bit older, and grey around the edges with it. But he's stuck in the Keep; the only way we'll get him out is on a bier. Someone had to come help Mum, so it had to be me.”
There was an undercurrent of uncertainty. The decision had obviously been harder than he made out.
“You know,” he said to Sal, “I didn't tell you this earlier, but I brought that old buggy of yours. Do you remember it?”
Remember it? thought Sal. He had spent half his life in it. “Sure. How's it running?”
“Like a dream. It's in the garage of the Black Galah. You can take it for a drive, if you like, later.”
Sal feigned enthusiasm, although the thought of the old buggy brought back memories of the death of his adopted father, and of Shilly's accident. And he wasn't cheered by the news that it was in the Galah's garage—it had probably been impounded along with the Wardens’ vehicles.
A quartet of guards came towards them up the street. Shilly waved the three of them into an alcove, where Sal tightened the weave of the charm around them.
The guards ran on by without a glance, the sound of their boots fading into the background wailing of the yadachi.
“They were definitely looking for someone,” whispered Sal.
“How do you think the others are doing?” Shilly responded.
“Fine, as long as Marmion hasn't started shooting his mouth off.”
“So they're screwed,” said Skender, pulling them out from cover. “Come on. We're not even halfway.”
They hurried along the street. Sal was acutely conscious of the day passing. What with the slow crossing of the Divide and the time it was taking to rejoin Marmion, anything could be happening to the Homunculus. The longer it took them to work out how to rescue it, the guiltier he felt.
“Whatever happened to Lodo?” asked Skender. “I haven't heard anything since we closed the Way to Fundelry on you.”
There was a long silence. Sal didn't know whether to answer for Shilly or to let her say it.
“He died,” she said, examining the cobblestones passing beneath her feet.
“I'm sorry.” Skender looked uncomfortable.
“It's not your fault. You couldn't have known.”
That was the truth. There had been many times Sal would have liked to contact Skender, but the distance between them had been a considerable obstacle, and security was an ongoing concern. Although mail did travel from the Strand to the Interior, there was no guarantee that letters wouldn't be opened or their origins traced. A similar risk applied to calling through the Change; crossing such a large distance would take enormous energy, and such efforts were not easily hidden.
“It's hard to believe it's been so long,” Skender said. And there it was, the other hard truth. He wasn't fourteen any more. Time had passed, and all three of them had changed with it. Waiting for things to be the same as last time was inviting disappointment.
“Lots of things have happened,” said Sal. “We've put a lot of stuff behind us.”
“But not everything. I mean, you two are looking so good. I always hoped it would work out for you, and it obviously has.”
“How's that?” asked Shilly. “We're in the same mess as you, remember.”
“But you're together. That's the way it's supposed to be. You were destined.”
Shilly made the same noise she had five years earlier, whenever that notion had been raised. “That doesn't make it any easier, believe me. We may look good now, but it hasn't always been like this. We've argued and broken up and sworn we'd never talk to each other again, just like any other couple.”
Skender looked incredulous. “Really?”
“Of course. Wait until you've been with someone as long as us. Then you'll know what it's like to have scars no one else can see.”
Sal could tell that Skender was disappointed. He understood that. Love wasn't supposed to be painful, and in the stories Sal had been told as a kid it didn't seem to be. Yet there were times he'd thought that, if he'd known just how vulnerable it would make him, he might have stayed in the Haunted City with Highson and devoted himself to a life of celibacy.
He was glad he hadn't.
“It's worth it,” he said, clapping a hand on Skender's shoulder. “Believe me. Shilly's just trying to give you a scare. Don't let anyone talk you out of something like this—least of all yourself.”
“Thanks.” Skender looked equal parts relieved and terrified.
“I agree,” said Shilly, “and maybe it'll be Chu—even though that'd mean you're really following in your father's footsteps.”
“What?”
“Oh, you know. He's not exactly the a
dventurous type, is he—and who did he marry? A Surveyor. I bet they see each other, what, once or twice a year? Now you're flirting with a flyer from the other side of the Interior. It's a recipe for exactly the same disaster.”
Skender looked aghast. “I didn't…” he stammered. “I mean, that is—”
“Wait.” Sal held up his hand. Behind their conversation, the song of the yadachi had changed. Instead of the usual wailing tune, the weather-workers had adopted a newer, more complex tonality that called and echoed across the rooftops. Rhythms developed in one place then faded, only to spring up again in another, far removed from the first. Intricate counterpoints wove through the towers like tangled threads. “Listen.”
“I hear it,” said Skender, his head cocked. “It sounds like they're talking.”
“Maybe they are,” said Sal, scanning the sky visible from street level. Nowhere did he see the blood-red robes of the city's weather-workers. “Are you sure they couldn't have seen us?”
“No,” said Shilly. “This has nothing to do with us.”
As she said the words, a strange new noise rose up over the city. It sounded like a giant cow lowing, but its pitch was much too deep to come from a living throat. Its volume increased until Sal could practically feel the air vibrating.
“What is it?” asked Skender, his hands over his ears.
Shilly shook her head in confusion as more tones joined the cacophony. Sal realised then that it was giant horns blowing, sounding powerful calls over the city. There was no melody or beat, just one growing chord containing notes high and low, as dissonant as a hundred voices yelling at once.
People ran by with looks of fright on their faces. Skender grabbed one and repeated his question.
“What is it?”
The Blood Debt: Books of the Cataclysm Two Page 35
