Hooded

by A A Woods

  Carlette kept scanning for Tuk, but she couldn’t help the answer that bubbled to her lips, against her better judgement.

  “They’ll kill him,” she whispered.

  “They will anyways,” Byrna pointed out. “Especially after everything that’s happened.”

  It was more than that, though. Carlette could handle Tuk falling in battle, maybe even his execution. But to think of Tuk dangling from the fences, a sign on his chest telling hoods and Nuri spies and everyone else what he’d done, what she’d allowed to happen…

  “Life’s not all battles and wars,” Byrna said with a grimace. “Sometimes it’s enough to have a fire, a pile of furs, and someone to share them with.”

  Carlette snorted. “That’s fresh, coming from a reformed Bloody Paw.”

  Byrna was silent for so long that Carlette turned to look at her, only to find her staring at the anchor tattoo on Carlette’s neck.

  “Some things are only skin deep.” Her eyes lifted, drilling into Carlette’s. “It’s your decision to make them more than that.”

  “I don’t have that kind of luxury,” Carlette said, sitting back on her heels, trying to puzzle through their predicament and not think about what it would feel like to be with Tuk, to feel his fingers on her skin and see what he looked like beneath his uniform.

  “Is it a luxury to be human?”

  Carlette glared at Byrna’s leg. “Yes.”

  Byrna sighed. “You’re worse than those dried-up old raisins in the Convent,” she said, falling back into the snow with a muffled whump.

  Carlette hesitated for a moment, prodding the snow. But this conversation had gone well past the point of shyness.

  “How did you escape?” she asked.

  Byrna lifted her head, eyebrows high. “Looking for tips?”

  “No one ever gets out of there. How did you do it?”

  Byrna let her head fall back. “I got lucky.”

  Carlette waited silently, her breath forming small clouds as the cold seeped in through her legs. Finally, Byrna continued.

  “I had been in the Convent almost a year when Yokan attacked. It was her fourth time raiding it. Found out later she was looking for you. I remember hearing the explosions and gunshots. The screams. Yokan’s warriors were ruthless coming down the tunnels. I’d never seen so much blood…”

  Byrna’s voice trailed off. She coughed before continuing.

  “When Yokan came to my cell, I thought she was Adenai herself, come to rescue me. Her face was painted with charcoal and her eyes were white. I renounced all the Moian gods right there and pledged myself to her.”

  Byrna took a deep breath. Carlette kept perfectly still, as if Byrna’s story was a wild animal that would spook at the slightest movement.

  “I don’t know why she took me in. Maybe she could tell I was like her. Another demon born in the belly of the world. Whatever the reason, she opened my cell and said I had one chance to prove myself to her. To earn my freedom. The guards were fighting through the blockade she’d set behind us, getting closer. Yokan unlocked my gloves.” Byrna chuckled darkly. “Let me tell you, those buffoons who guard your precious city are rather hilarious when they’re covered in ants.”

  Carlette couldn’t suppress a shudder. “That sounds… difficult.”

  “Not really. Threading the Weave is the greatest release in the world. Better than sex, sometimes.”

  “What’s the Weave?” Carlette asked to keep the subject from sliding back into uncomfortable territory.

  Byrna laughed outright. “What do they teach you in that school?”

  Carlette didn’t respond, knowing Byrna would fill the silence if she waited long enough.

  “The Weave is everything. It’s the threads of life that bind us together. It’s the tapestry we reach for when we hold the mind of beasts.” Byrna sighed and Carlette watched the mist rise from the girl’s head, a tendril of smoky air. “My father told me it has something to do with this land. That in Ferren, people were created differently. The power we hold… concentrates in our hands and eyes somehow. The settlers feel the physical world through their fingers. We feel the Weave.”

  Carlette thought of the chinked power around the she-wolf, the way the world seemed thicker around her. Dense with souls.

  “Woven energy,” Carlette muttered, tracing shapes in the snow.

  “Energy, life, power. Call it what you will,” Byrna said. “That’s the Weave.”

  “Thank you,” Carlette said, the words clumsy in her mouth. “I… never knew that.”

  Byrna snorted. “That and a million other things.”

  But Carlette wasn’t listening. She felt like an untethered balloon, trying to process what Byrna had said.

  The Weave.

  The Convent.

  Tuk.

  So many moving parts. It was easy to understand why soldiers followed orders without question, why guards held onto their blind hatred. Some deep, insidious part of Carlette longed to return to a world that was simple, sliced into discrete pieces and given to her in calculated mouthfuls. Everything was so much larger and more complicated than her mind could possibly hold.

  Still, she had to try.

  Tuk’s consciousness brushed against her own, ending her reflection. She rose, trying to shake off the heavy weight of unanswerable questions as he jogged into view.

  Carlette opened her mouth to ask where he’d been. But her question cut off when she saw his face. It was alight with energy, eyes infectiously bright.

  “I found it!” Tuk panted, clutching Carlette’s shoulders so that he didn’t topple onto Byrna. “I found it!”

  “What, your balls?” Byrna asked, smirking.

  Carlette shot her a warning look, but Tuk hardly seemed to notice. He was radiating the kind of energy that left Carlette light-headed, face stretched in the same grin he’d worn when they’d thought of hijacking the Nuri airship.

  “I found my ship,” Tuk said, the words falling out of him in a rush. “I thought I recognized this place, and I did. This is where I crashed, right before I was captured.”

  “Wait, did you say crashed?” said Byrna, whose face had gone, if possible, even paler.

  “It’s in no shape to reach Caika,” Tuk said, almost bouncing on the tips of his toes, “But if I can light a fire, I should be able to glide it along the sea. With any luck, they may not notice us until we reach the harbor. We’ll fly low and fast. Worst case scenario, we end up getting a little wet.”

  “No,” Byrna said. “Worst case scenario, we’re shot down and eaten by sharks.”

  “Well yeah, that too,” Tuk said with a blush.

  “I’d rather starve here, thank you very much.”

  “You’ll freeze to death first,” Carlette pointed out.

  “At least I’ll die on solid ground.”

  “Look,” Tuk interrupted, “It’s our only chance. It’s not perfect, but I can do this. I can fix her.”

  “Of course it’s a her,” Byrna muttered. “What else would a high-flying bitch—”

  “We’ll do it,” Carlette said, slicing a look at Byrna. “We trust you.”

  “Speak for yourself, little Furix, I trust nothing but my beetles.”

  “I’ll carry her on if I have to,” Carlette said, meeting Tuk’s eyes. “Fix up your ship and we’ll get on it.”

  Tuk’s smile was brighter than any sunrise Carlette had ever seen.

  Chapter Thirty-One: A Shared Horizon

  Carlette had lost count of how many times Byrna had vomited over the side of Tuk’s ship, the sound of her retching audible even over the wind.

  “I think your paint might be ruined,” Carlette shouted, her own bandaged hands twisted in the rigging.

  Tuk cackled. “I’ll get her to clean it later!”

  Byrna made a rude gesture without pulling her head back from the edge.

  It had taken Tuk six hours to rig his vessel into some semblance of a functional airship. As Carlette half-supported, half-carried a
n acerbic, agonized, angry Byrna through the mountains, following the trail of Tuk’s deep footprints, he’d bounded off ahead. It was as though nothing thrilled him more than flying a patched-up balloon over the mountains, down the cliffs, and into the turbulence of an incoming ocean storm. Tuk’s energy only seemed to grow as the afternoon went on. By the time he and Carlette carried his basket to the nearest ledge, he was almost vibrating with anticipation.

  They’d all made a point of ignoring the frozen, broken bodies of Tuk’s old comrades.

  Now, they were drifting over the edge of a cliff face, leaving the obsidian mountains behind. The surf boomed below them, hungry, waiting. Carlette’s hands were numb but she refused to release the ropes, even for a second.

  Somewhere up ahead, Delasir soldiers would be peering out of guard holes dug into the mountain. If Tuk wasn’t careful, their trip would be cut short by a volley of gunshots tearing through their balloon and a long fall into unfriendly waters.

  Carlette swallowed, concentrating.

  Maybe she could help.

  Even from this distance, she could feel the celebration, the rare happiness that spread from Tuleaux like fungal threads. She knew what the city would look like—every surface festooned with the gilded Delasir anchor or the Magistrate’s knotted chain. Mya’s orphans, faces scrubbed clean, would be sprinting down the Rae du Ora begging for the scraps of fresh oat cakes and popovers. Merchants would wear their best garments and vendors would present their wares on polished tables. It was the only day of the year that Tuleaux did nothing but celebrate, so the settlers did it with gusto.

  This Gaulday, of course, would be that and more. After the capture of the Pirate Queen, the sailors would be drunk on victory. Carlette could imagine them catcalling the prettiest whores and dancing over cobblestones. Guards would shout obscenities about the Featherhands and insult Yokan in loud, carrying voices. The prince would give a speech, with special attention to the poor and needy. Mya would gather her hoard in a place of honor, right at the front, her children’s eyes wide with admiration and yearning.

  If Carlette failed, their eyes would be wide with something very different.

  The ship dropped several feet.

  Carlette’s stomach seemed to fall out of her.

  Byrna groaned.

  “Sorry,” Tuk called, not sounding remotely apologetic. “Caught a downdraft.”

  “Do that again and I’ll cut off your prick and feed it to you,” Byrna shouted.

  Tuk only laughed, a wild, carefree sound that made Carlette’s heart spark like flint.

  Carefully, each hand placed as if she were putting together a mosaic, Carlette inched her way to Tuk.

  “How long until we reach Commercant Bay?” she asked.

  “Should be there within the hour,” Tuk said with a grin. “And totally intact.”

  “Why didn’t you fly your ship away, when you crashed? You could have avoided all this.”

  Tuk shrugged. “It wouldn’t have made it to Caika. The leak in the main balloon is why we’re dropping. It doesn’t matter for this mission, but if I’d tried to fly up, I would have flat-lined and crashed again even higher in the peaks.” Tuk’s smile widened. “Besides, if I hadn’t been captured by Delasir guards, I would have missed all the excitement.”

  A surprised ha burst out of Carlette.

  “Excitement? You’ve been condemned as a spy, betrayed your people, almost died more than once. Should I go on?”

  “Beats boring fly-over missions.”

  “I’m not so sure. It seems like you’d be happy flying for no reason at all.”

  Tuk’s laugh was a balm on Carlette’s soul, like a coating of warm butter on freshly baked bread. “Probably. The Commander caught me sneaking away for a pleasure-trip once. I’d just gotten into a fight with my bunkmate and wanted to feel the open air. Breathe freely, you know? Caika isn’t exactly roomy.”

  “What did he do?” Carlette asked, thinking of the kinds of punishments she’d seen her classmates receive. Whippings. Beatings. Locked in dark cells for days at a time without food or water.

  “Oh, he gave me triple watch. I didn’t sleep for three days.” Tuk grimaced.

  Carlette balked. “That’s it?”

  Tuk shrugged “Of course. No one survives the air corps unless they love flying. Half the boys I was bunked with took ships on joyrides, and the other half didn’t only because their fathers or brothers were in the service, keeping an eye on them. The wind is in our blood, Carlette. Why do you think Nurkaij built the Ziggurat? Our people have always wanted to be closer to the sky.”

  Carlette sat back against the edge of the ship, clenching her teeth as they dropped again. Byrna was muttering inaudibly in the front of the basket, her forehead pressed to the railing.

  “Did you enjoy it?” she asked after a minute. “The air corps?”

  Tuk hesitated.

  “Yes… and no. I love flying, always have. But I never really believed in the cause. Sure, I hated Delasir. They were invading our country and killing our people. I would have given anything to be on the front lines at Kammunuk, shooting down the King’s soldiers. But this…” Tuk’s eyes were fixed on the ocean fog, on the near-invisible horizon that threatened rain. “To kill someone because they were born different?” He shook his head. “I’ve watched my men gun down tribes and burn villages. You saw what they did to the Moians. And for what? So their power can’t feed Delasir’s war effort? So those kids can’t be turned into weapons and used against us?” Tuk sighed. “Never made sense to me. It’s like burning a forest so your neighbor can’t build a house.”

  “Would you have Nurkaij create their own half-breeds?” Carlette paused. “Like me?”

  Tuk’s smile was sad. “I’m afraid they already are.”

  “And you support that?”

  “No, but isn’t it better than killing them? Aren’t you glad that Jemelle at least gave you a chance?”

  Carlette had no answer. She swallowed, tipped her head back. “All I know is I’m glad to be free of it.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, the sun disappeared. There was a horrible ripping sound. The airship shuddered.

  “Duck!” Tuk shouted, shoving Carlette’s head down and yanking the rudder to the side. The ship swerved, swinging wildly in a sudden wind. With deft expertise, Tuk rode it, launching them up and to the side. An angry caw rang out, too large, too close.

  Carlette lifted her head.

  By the elders…

  A Ceillan raptor wheeled in the misty air, coming around for another strike. The bird was massive, iridescent feathers glimmering with sea mist. On its back, face painted, feathers braided into their hair, was the crouched shape of a man.

  Pirates.

  “It’s the Featherhands!” Tuk shouted as the raptor cawed again. “He’s calling for support.”

  “What do we do?”

  The raptor soared toward the basket, twisting in midair as it disappeared below them. The ship bucked. Carlette’s body jolted, her legs slipping through a tear in the woven reeds.

  “Hold on!” Tuk shouted.

  She tightened her grip in the rigging. Nothing but empty air separated her from the crashing sea. Carlette swallowed, pulled herself back into the ship as Byrna shouted obscenities at the pirate. Instinctually, she stretched her mind out for the hulking beast. But the bird was too strange, moving too fast, twisting in and out of her line of vision in erratic swoops. Her power couldn’t grab hold.

  There was another ripping sound from somewhere above them.

  “They’re going to tear us apart!” Tuk said.

  Carlette twisted toward him, frantic. “Tuk, we have to reach the bay.”

  His expression hardened. He jerked his head in a nod, as if coming to a decision.

  “You’ll need to jump. I’ll draw them away.”

  “We can’t just leave you!”

  Tuk’s face was pale but determined. “I’ll get you as close as I can and then y
ou and Byrna will have to swim for it.”

  “But if they capture you—”

  Tuk grinned at her, not entirely convincing. “I’ve charmed my way out of trouble before.”

  Carlette opened her mouth to respond, but Byrna interrupted her.

  “What the fuck are you two doing back here?” she asked, shimming past the torn hole in the basket. “And what the fuck are we going to do about that?”

  “He wants us to jump!” Carlette shouted over the noise of the waves.

  “What?”

  “Look,” Tuk said. “Either you jump now and reach the city, or we all go down and Tuleaux is destroyed. Carlette, they are going to capture this ship. I can’t out-fly a raptor, not in this state, and we don’t have the weapons to fight back. Even you can’t enhabit all the Featherhands at once. It’s this or nothing.”

  Shards of fear cut through Carlette. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The idea of leaving him behind, allowing him to be captured by pirates, was nauseating, unpalatable. But their ship was dropping fast, air leaking from the puncture wounds the raptor had made on its first pass.

  And two more raptors had appeared over the skyline, fast approaching.

  “Ok,” Carlette said, hating herself.

  “At least we’ll be out of the sky,” said Byrna.

  Carlette wrapped an arm around Byrna’s waist, pulling them up to the edge.

  “Wait for my signal!” Tuk called.

  And then the pirates were on them.

  It felt like a hurricane. Raptors sliced in from all sides. Bits of the balloon flapped in the breeze and their ship dropped again, harder this time. A tiny shriek escaped Byrna’s lips. As they rounded the edge of the cliff, Carlette saw Commercant Bay sweeping out before them in all its sprawling glory; the Magistrate’s home, the ships in the harbor, the floating Ceillan chariots penning them in.

  Carlette’s gut twisted at the lights and distant music.

  Despite the blockade, Tuleaux would still celebrate.

  Water sprayed Carlette, making her sputter, stopping her thoughts. They were skimming the waves now, barely above them.