"Are there any other Silverwings who have bands?"
"A bunch of the males, they got banded last year. Why?"
"And they're still alive too?"
"Some of them," he said tightly. "Others got killed."
"How?" she demanded.
"By owls."
"So maybe my elders were wrong," Marina muttered. "Maybe it doesn't always kill—"
Shade couldn't stand it anymore. "What are you talking about?"
"This!" Marina exclaimed, waving her banded forearm. "This is why I'm here! Alone." She took a deep breath. "Listen. This last spring I was with my colony down south. I'd just finished my first hibernation, and we were traveling back to our summer roosts. Me, my mother and father, everyone."
She paused to catch her breath, and Shade knew she'd waited a long time to tell this story to someone.
"One night I'm hunting along the river, chasing a tiger moth. I'm a long way from the others. And all of a sudden, smack, my wings are all tangled up in some kind of giant web. I didn't even see it with my echo vision. I struggle but can't get free. Then two Humans appear on the riverbank, and start pulling the web in toward them. Their faces are . . . they're blazing with yellow light, like the moon or the sun."
Shade felt his heart purring furiously. Was this what happened to his father? Was this how he'd received his band? Maybe these Humans were the very ones who'd banded Cassiel!
"What happened next?" he breathed.
"One of them plucks me from the net and holds my wings pinned to my sides. Incredible, his strength. I mean, I've never been more scared in my life. I don't know what I'm thinking, that I'll get eaten, I guess, I don't know. So I'm struggling, and twisting, and I try to bite his hand, but my teeth can't get through. He's wearing something over them, tough like animal hide. They keep hold of me, but they're gentle. They stroke my fur, like they're trying to calm me down."
"Did you talk to them?" Shade asked.
SlLVERWING 59
"I tried, but it's no good. They didn't understand me. They're talking to each other in these big slow voices like thunder, and I can't figure that out either. So after a while I just give up. One of them holds out my right wing, and the other one, he takes this band of metal and fastens it tight around my forearm.
"So they touch me once more, on the head," Marina said, "and then let me go. I feel—I can't explain it. Like something special has happened to me. So I fly back to the others, all excited. But when my mother sees me, she just stares at the band and starts to cry, and my father just gets this hard look on his face, and there's other bats who take one look at me and fly off scared."
Shade shook his head in confusion. "But why?"
Marina nodded, scratched at her nose. "They thought I was tainted. I mean, I didn't know anything, I'd never heard a thing about these bands. My mom and dad took me to the elders, and I heard it all. It turns out, years ago, a few of the other Brightwings got banded, and they all died or vanished. The stories I heard! One of the bats had his wing rot and fall off, and another bat just caught fire and burned alive."
Shade felt sick, thinking of his father. Was this what happened to him? And the other banded bats who disappeared? Maybe it was the bands that killed them, and not the owls at all.
"But it doesn't make sense," he said aloud, wanting to reassure himself. "Frieda didn't say anything about it, and nothing's happened to her. You're fine too, and you've had the band for months."
"Maybe they were just stories, I don't know," said Marina. "But the elders told me the band was cursed, and that there was nothing I could do. They told me I was . . . what was the word . . . unclean, that's it. I'd been marked by the Humans, and I would only bring bad luck to the colony. So they drove me away."
"No," Shade gasped. "Your mother and father—"
'They couldn't . . . there was nothing they could do/' Marina sighed. 'They were scared too. I had to say goodbye. At first I tried to follow them from a distance, but the elders sent some big males to chase me away, and eventually I got lost."
Shade could only shake his head in horror. The thought of his own mother, letting him be driven away; it was too painful to bear.
"It was like a bad dream," Marina said. "The first few days I'd kind of forget in my sleep, and I'd wake up and glance around and I was all alone. A few times I ran into other bats, but they took one look at that band and turned tail. By this time I'd hit the coast, and I figured I didn't have long to live anyway.
"I guess I must have been feeling dramatic, because I figured I'd just fly over the ocean and end it all. So I started out and kept saying to myself I'd dive into the water, but it just looked so darn unfriendly. So I thought I'd fly out a little more, and then do it, but I just couldn't quite get the nerve up—all that water, you just knew it was freezing cold—and by then I was so far out there was no turning back. I was downright scared then. Luckily, I caught sight of the island and made it before my wings gave out. And here I am. I mean, it's not so bad. There's plenty to eat, and not a lot of competition."
Shade cast his echo vision over her band, lingering over the strange Human markings. That thin silver ring, closing so perfectly around her forearm. He remembered the beautiful blazing circle of the sun's light, and felt soothed. It was part of the Promise: a sign. It was impossible the band could be anything bad.
"You're so lucky," he murmured, and then winced in regret. It sounded so cruel after all she'd just told him.
Marina snorted. "Yeah, it's done me a world of good."
"No, you don't understand. I mean ..." He didn't know where to begin. "My father had one, a band." And now his words came tumbling out. He told her about Cassiel, and
SlLVERWING 6l
how he'd disappeared down south; he told her about how he'd seen the sun, and the owls burning down Tree Haven. He told her about the echo chamber, the Great Battle of the Birds and the Beasts, the banishment, and Nocturna's Promise. And he repeated everything Frieda had told him about the bands.
Marina was silent for a long time after he finished. "I tried to rip it off once," she said thoughtfully, "after what the elders said. But it's so tight, like it's always been a part of me. Short of hacking off my claw, that band's here to stay. And you know what? Even when things were at their very worst, there was this little part of me that was glad. I guess I just couldn't believe the band was as bad as they said. There was something . . . important about having it. Something good. I felt it."
Shade nodded, envious. Did the Humans choose which bats to band, or was it just luck?
"I knew about Nocturna," Marina said, "and I'd even heard something about the Great Battle—but they never told us anything about this Promise. You really think we can come back into the sun?"
"I don't know how, but I'm going to find out."
Marina looked at him, and grinned. "Quite a little troublemaker, aren't you. Go see the sun, scare your mother half to death, get your roost burned down by the owls. My bet is you're not the most popular bat in your colony right now."
"I guess I'm not," said Shade, and he was grinning too, despite himself.
"I want to meet Frieda and these other bats," Marina said. She wasn't smiling now. "I want to come with you."
Into the City
"It can be a rough ride," said Marina the next night. They were heading out over the bay. A crescent moon hung in the clear sky, and there was only a light breeze. "But you shouldn't have too much trouble, even with those stubby wings of yours/'
Shade's ears shot up indignantly.
"My wings aren't stubby!"
"Well, they're certainly not as long as mine," Marina said, flaring them briefly. He had to admit, they were longer and narrower—but not by so much. "It's a simple fact. The longer the wings, the faster you fly."
"Mine may be a little shorter," Shade said, "but they're broader too, and that means I'm more flexible in flight." He remembered his mother telling him this when he was learning to fly.
"Hmm," Marina said
doubtfully.
"I can even hover. And I can fly through smaller spaces in the forest."
"Interesting. But up here on the high seas, speed's the name of the game, my little friend. And in that department, I've got the edge."
Little friend? She was as bad as Chinook. He hoped he wouldn't regret traveling with her.
"All I know is I made it through that storm last night,"
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Shade muttered, "and those winds were pretty bad. I can handle it."
They'd spent an hour feeding around the island, and Shade had gobbled down his food joylessly. All he could think about was how, every second, his mother and the rest of his colony were moving farther away from him. He was desperate to get going, but he knew he had to eat; he'd need all his strength over the water.
As they flew higher, the winds picked up, and Shade felt anxious. Leading the way, Marina's wings billowed impressively with every stroke. Shade grimaced and thought of Chinook.
"How much higher do we have to go?" he asked.
"A bat afraid of heights? That's a new one."
"Just wondering why we have to go so high."
"To find the right slipstream," she explained. "I've played around with them. You sometimes get a current blowing inland, and it'll make the ride a whole lot easier. And faster."
"Oh, right." He didn't like it that she knew more than him.
Angling her wings, she circled for a moment, nose twitching.
"I think we're close. Can you smell it?"
Shade sniffed too, but couldn't detect anything except the pungent odor of the sea. It took all his attention just to keep level in the strong breeze. Wind roared in his ears. He hoped Marina knew what she was doing.
"Just a little more . . . there!"
And Shade felt it too: The wind lulled, and he felt he was being sucked forward. Every wingbeat was like two. He looked down, and regretted it. The ocean, from up here, was nothing more than rippled blackness. He didn't like being so far from trees.
"The mainland's dead ahead. See?" Marina tilted her chin, pointing.
In the distance Shade saw the thin black line of the
coast, and then a tiny but intense flash of light. Darkness again, then another flash.
"That's the tower," Shade said excitedly. "That's where the storm hit."
"The old lighthouse. I remember it. The Humans use it for their boats. It tells them there're rocks ahead, and to steer clear."
She knows everything, Shade thought. She's bigger, even though she's a girl, better at flying, better at everything. And there was her band too.
"So, your colony was headed south, right?"
"For a couple of nights, I think."
"You think?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"We'll catch them along the coast if we're lucky. Depends on how fast they're going. A couple nights maybe. So long as you keep us on route, we'll get there eventually. You know the route, right?"
Shade's stomach felt like he'd just plunged a few hundred feet.
"Well . . ."he said, "my mother sang me a map."
"You've forgotten it?"
"No," he snapped. "I remember everything." He wasn't lying really. He knew he could recall all the sounds and pictures—he just didn't know what they meant. He wished he'd made his mother explain before the storm.
"Well, that's a relief," muttered Marina.
"Anyway, we'll catch them along the coast, right?"
Marina just grunted.
Shade found that the best thing to do was fix his eyes on the flashing lighthouse and will it to draw closer. They talked a little at the outset, then less and less, saving their breath.
The winds held steady, and Shade knew how lucky they were. The eastern sky was beginning to pale as they reached the mainland and banked around the lighthouse. Shade felt exhausted, but exultant. He'd made it back.
Under a toppled birch, they found a secret hollow, and
crawled inside just as the birds' dawn chorus rose from the trees. Instantly he was asleep.
"Wake up."
Shade popped open an eye and stared blearily at Marina. She poked him again with her nose.
"What's wrong?"
"The sun went down half an hour ago."
Night already. He felt like hardly any time had passed. He rustled his wings, and a searing ache spread across the muscles in his chest and back.
"Should've woken me," he groaned.
"Seemed like you needed sleep pretty bad after last night."
"Let's get going."
"Aren't you hungry?"
Of course he was hungry. But it was like torture, knowing there was a long journey ahead, and wasting all that time catching beetles and mosquitoes. Every second was a dozen lost wingbeats.
"They've got to eat too, you know," Marina told him.
He nodded, feeling better. He hadn't thought of that.
"And looks like you could use it. Are all you Silverwings so small?"
"No, they're not," said Shade hotly. "I just happen to be a runt." He almost laughed. Runt. That word was such a big and hated part of his life—he never thought he'd use it in defense. "Anyway, I bet we're better hunters than you Brightwings."
"Think so?" She seemed amused.
"Yeah. Just think about it. We're faster in tight spaces, like around trees where the mosquitoes are. And our fur's darker, so we're better camouflaged. Any insect who's not blind can see you coming a mile away!"
"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"
"I bet I catch more mosquitoes than you. First one to hit a thousand."
"You're on," she said. "Go!"
They scrambled out from under the fallen birch and darted into the air. While Marina struck out for the tree line, Shade veered through the trees themselves, feeding on dense swarms of mosquitoes, dropping down over small pools of water for newly hatched eggs. He worked out the aches in his body as he flew. Never had he eaten so much, so fast.
He streamed past Marina and they shouted out their scores.
"Six hundred and twenty-five!" he hollered.
"Six eighty-two!"
Know-it-all! He flew faster, twisting and flipping through the air, snapping up every mosquito that flickered across his path.
"A thousand!" he bellowed a minute later. "I did it! Where are you?"
"What took you so long?" said Marina, hanging from a nearby branch, leisurely grooming her wings.
"You got a thousand?"
"Hm-hmm."
"You didn't!"
"A few seconds ago, actually."
"Well, you didn't say anything," grumbled Shade, landing beside her.
"You didn't hear me." She burped loudly.
"You know, I don't feel so good," he said.
"Serves you right."
"Me? What about you? It was your idea!"
"Look, I don't feel too jaunty either," Marina admitted.
"I never want to eat another mosquito in my life."
"Did they seem unusually spicy to you?" she asked.
"Please, don't talk about it."
It took a while before their stomachs settled enough for them to fly. Shade felt like he'd swallowed a large stone.
"Let's call it a tie," said Marina after a while.
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Shade smiled and gave a deafening burp. "Sounds fair to me."
They kept up a good pace through the night.
It was the coldest yet, the grass sparkling with frost. They kept the coastline on their left wingtip. There was a Human road snaking along the shore as well, and by now Shade was used to seeing their vehicles race along it.
"Do you think the Humans will help us somehow?" Marina asked.
"That's what my father thought."
"I've been thinking about the Promise. About coming back into the light. Wouldn't we go blind?"
"Only if you stared right at the sun for a long time," Shade said. In the cold night he remembered its heat, its sheer power.<
br />
"But you just saw a bit of it, right?"
"Well, yeah, but Frieda saw all of it. They just don't want us to have it, the other birds and beasts. Know what I think? If we could get the sun, we'd grow, and we wouldn't have to worry about the owls hunting us. We can ask the other Silverwings—the males who are banded." He stared at the horizon. "If we ever catch up."
"You said they'd follow the coast for a while. Then what? How do we know when to change course?"
"I could try singing you the next bit maybe." Not that he'd been taught, but he thought it was worth a try. He was good at catching echoes . . .
"It won't work."
"It won't?"
"Don't you know anything? You're a Silverwing, I'm a Brightwing. Our echoes aren't the same. It'd just be a big mess."
"So only I can read the map," he said, and couldn't stop a grin. He liked that. Something he knew that she didn't.
"Don't look so cocky about it. You'll have to explain it to me best you can."
He called up his mother's sound map. He saw the ocean, the lighthouse, the coastline, and then—
"Lights," he told Marina. "Like stars, only they're not really. And they're down on the ground instead of in the sky. And it's like everything's made of the light. Giant shapes ..."
"A city," Marina said simply.
Shade blinked. That was easy. "You've been there?"
"Once. We've really got to go in there?"
There was something important in that city, in the midst of all that light. A tower, higher than the lighthouse . . .
"Yes. There's a landmark. We use it to set course, something to do with the stars and a metal cross ..."
"Listen!" Marina said suddenly, cutting him off.
Shade's ears twitched, strained, and he could hear the unmistakable creaky flutter of wingbeats. Not just one set, but many.
"Come on!" With a burst of speed he soared through the sky until, in the distance, he could see the bats with his echo vision, hundreds of them shimmering out across the tree line.
"I think it's them!" he told her. "It must be!"
"I hope they like me," said Marina. "How should I introduce myself? Hi, I'm a friend of the bat who got your roost burned down."
Shade laughed aloud with delight. "Hey! Hello!" he called out at the colony. "It's me, Shade!"
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