Cloudbound (14 page)

Ezarit had always seemed as if she knew her path, and Kirit's, a long rise, straight up. That path hadn't seemed to include me, nor Elna, and I'd longed for that kind of direction. But families didn't always work the way they looked, and they were complicated. Ezarit was family too, and Kirit. I'd not forgotten, but I'd been blinded to it by the turmoil in the city. By what I'd wanted for myself.

My family now was a complex construct, a web of sinew and bone, bridges and chasms. The missing were as important as those who had always been there, and those whom I'd grown close to over the past few Allmoons. We might rise, but we could also fall. Same as any family. Someone threatened family of mine? I'd take them down as far as they could go.

Ezarit spoke again, this time to everyone still awake in the tier. “The council is souring. The towers are close to turning on one another. We cannot lead the city the way we need to. We need to stop leading out of fear and anger.” She meant the vote. She meant me. “But we do need decisive action. On that point, Doran is correct, and I am prepared to act also.”

Was she advocating for Conclave? I must have looked shocked.

“We can never undo a Conclave,” Wik said, speaking my thoughts. The fledges watched Ezarit intently.

“I don't want a Conclave,” she said. “I want the city to come together, and a Conclave provides only a false resolution. There are too many disturbances. The riots show there are many wounds left unhealed from Spirefall. We must address that directly.”

“But first,” Aliati said, “we need to stop the Conclave.” She touched Ezarit's shoulder. “Get everyone looking for Kirit. Singers too. We'll find her.”

Ezarit's shoulders sagged.

“The protest tomorrow at the council plinth,” Beliak said. “I don't think it will stop the Conclave, but some are hoping to try.” He looked guiltily at me, as if he'd kept a secret, or planned to join them. Then he said, “Ceetcee and Elna among them.”

The thought of Doran shouting at my family for interfering brought me to my feet. “They can't. Elna's too ill. Ceetcee could get hurt.”

“Elna's frail, and skyblind,” Ezarit said. “But she wants to speak, and we should hear her. She's taught me much over the years, and she's stronger than you know. Ceetcee too.”

She was right, and I knew it.

Ezarit pointed to the bucket of heartbone and the fledges. “If we combine strategies, Nat, and add your proof of what's happening beneath the clouds, we could stop this. We have to try.”

*   *   *

A kavik and a whipperling landed one after another on the balcony and chattered at us. Sunlight laid rainbows on the kavik's deep black wings and mottled the whipperling. The bone chips at their ankles dragged on the tier floor.

Aliati bent to release the yellow silk cord from the whipperling's claw. “Hiroli is bringing wings for the fledges,” she said, nodding at Ezarit. “Your apprentice is resourceful.” She lifted the next message chips from the kavik. The red cord dangled from her fingers as she groaned in alarm. “Guards are coming for the Singers. Soon.”

“Already?” Ezarit's face fell. “They didn't want to wait and risk more dissent.”

In the past, when Singers called for a Conclave, there had been little warning, and less resistance.

Beliak scratched a message on the chip's flat side. “I'll let Ceetcee and the protesters know.” He began to tie the message to the kavik's leg.

“Use the whipperling,” Ezarit said. “Kaviks have been unreliable lately.” Her brow wrinkled. She was thinking hard. “I need to return to council. Let them know you have been found. Try—” She paused. Pressed her lips together. “When Hiroli brings the wings, you must hurry.”

The fledges gathered around her, but didn't press. They watched her tighten her wingstraps. Within the furled silk, we could see the beak of the tea-dyed kestrel that marked her wings. Not a whipperling leader, after all.

She hugged Beliak and me. Pressed Wik's tattooed hand between hers, and then put her arm around Ciel. “It will be all right. You'll see.”

Then she turned from us and unfurled her wings. Leapt from the balcony and swept a strong gust around Bissel, north and east towards the council plinth.

When she was gone, the tier seemed smaller. Emptier. Wik and Beliak spoke softly to the fledges and looked at the map.

Aliati nudged me. “Let me see the plate that Wik found in your satchel,” Aliati said. “The one he doesn't want anyone to see.”

“I thought you were going to look for Kirit.”

“I am. As soon as Hiroli arrives with the fledges' wings and the guards come for Wik.”

I hoped Hiroli would hurry. That the guards would be slow. Opening the satchel, I pushed the codex page back to reveal the brass plate. Tilted it to the sunlight so that Aliati could see.

Across the tier, Wik rose from where he and Beliak studied the search map and started to protest. But then he quieted and knelt again, the Lawsmarkers rattling his shoulders. Beliak came over to us.

“I can't read these symbols,” Aliati complained. “There are a few scavenger marks. This one says ‘trade' but not what for.”

“I can't read any of it,” I said. “Wik said to keep it hidden.”

Aliati frowned. “Do you think that's a good idea? Singer secrets. We could tell Ezarit, tomorrow.”

I nodded. I couldn't imagine what tomorrow would be like, if Conclave happened. What had I done? A lifetime ago. I wished I could go back and fix it all. That Kirit were here. She could stop them.

But they had me instead. And four fledges. We would have to stop the Conclave with the truth. No more secrets.

Three guards landed first. Two wearing hunter blue wings, with a net. One blackwing. The blackwing pulled a small bladder of muzz from his belt. Carried it to Wik.

“
You
drink that,” Wik said.

The blackwing held up his free hand, as if to strike the Singer.

“Leave it,” the first hunter said. “His choice.” They hauled Wik to his feet, scattering the map of flight paths.

“Let him go! Let him fly on his own!” Moc rushed the guards and tried to pry their fingers from his uncle's arms. His face was fierce, but his eyes swam with tears.

The second hunter lifted Moc off his feet. “You're that Singer fledge?” Moc's Lawsmarkers rattled at his wrists. “Danger to tower?”

“Bring him too,” the blackwing said.

“No!” Beliak and I moved to pull Moc away, while Ciel and Aliati yelled at the guards, calling them monsters, skytouched. Worse than Singers. Fledges dragged at guards' robes, their wings. Beliak landed a punch and was pushed to the ground.

“I'm a councilor!” I shouted. “Stop this.” But the guards bound Moc's wrists and ankles with spidersilk. They tied Wik too. Made him climb into the net that all three guards dragged to the edge.

We shouted more, but the guards held us off. Even me. A councilor.

The blue-winged hunters leapt in tandem, pulling the net from the ledge behind them, and circling up, working the gusts hard until they flew level with the tier again. The blackwing attached Moc to a bone hook and strong-armed the struggling boy off the ledge with him.

Without another word, they were gone. Flying towards the council platform.

“I'll follow them,” Beliak said. We raced to tighten his wingstraps. He met and held my eyes. “You're back. You'll stay? No more clouds?” He didn't look worried that I was skytouched any longer. Instead, he looked worried that I'd disappear.

“No more clouds,” I said. Until I led the council to investigate Dix's Treason, I could keep that promise. He gripped my arm, tight, then turned to the sky.

Time slowed as Beliak unfurled his wings and leapt from the tier. By the time he'd found a strong gust, the guards and their burdens were already black specks on the far horizon, disappearing fast.

 

10

THE COUNCIL

By the time Hiroli arrived from the southeast with five pairs of fledge wings strapped to her chest, the six of us who remained at Bissel stood arrayed on the tier, staring out.

“Where's Ezarit?” Hiroli asked. “I have messages for her.”

“Council plinth,” Aliati said. “Urgent business.” She'd been gathering the map and markers from the tier floor. Now she straightened and, with the air of someone who'd rarely done it but knew what was proper, bowed to the junior councilwoman. “You are welcome here, Risen.”

Hiroli blushed, then untied the wingsets. She counted fledge heads. “I thought you said…”

Ciel stared at her, cheeks streaked with spent tears. “Give me a pair, quick.”

With a confused laugh, Hiroli handed the girl a wingset. “We'll all go together,” she cautioned, as Ciel fumbled with the straps. We quickly told Hiroli what had happened.

When she'd finished, Ciel took the remaining wingset and tied it to her chest. “For Moc.” Her eyes defied anyone to challenge her.

Good for her. The girl seemed quiet, compared to her brother. But
only
compared to her brother.

I sealed the bucket of heartbone in a pannier and shouldered Kirit's satchel. The remaining codex page and the strange metal plate clacked together as they settled against my side.

Aliati lifted the windbeater wings from the balcony and laid them against the central core wall. Readying for a quick departure. Angrily.

Hiroli bowed to me. “Fly well, Councilor.”

“On your wings, Councilor,” I replied. How had she voted? She'd been a refusal in my count, but Councilor Vant had said he'd talk to her too. I hoped she'd voted against the Conclave, but I could not bear to ask.

If I manage to remain on the council,
I promised the wind,
I'll seek more opinions than just my mentor's. I'll look beyond the council, to the towers as well.
A lesson hard learned. I hoped it had been in time.

All the fledges finally had their wings on. Aliati looped a long coil of spidersilk tether over her shoulder and doused the oil lamp. The sun was high above the clouds now, and it was time to go.

Aliati descended the rope with a wave. “Will let you know what I find.” She ignored Hiroli's raised eyebrows. The codex pages were lost to the clouds, probably, but I hoped she'd find Kirit.

“I dropped something down below,” I said. “When I found the fledges.”

That was an understatement. And a truth.

“She doesn't want to help protest the vote?” Hiroli asked. Now I knew how she'd voted.

“She's needed elsewhere.” I pulled the fledges to the tier edge, where Ciel waited, impatient and frowning.

Ciel and I leapt first, circling to wait for the fledges and Hiroli. When I saw Ciel preparing to glide off on her own, I whistled for a chevron formation. She joined us, flying with angry, jerky motions, but we flew together. Hiroli took point, I flew to the west, and the three fledges arrayed between us, with Ciel leading.

*   *   *

The council plinth hung suspended between Varu, Naza, and Narath towers. The woven fiber platform was decorated with tower sigils and oil-polished. Green and blue silk banners strung from the tethers curled and uncurled in the breeze. As if for a celebration. Or a wingfight.

Hiroli flew to the right of our formation, her wings bouncing the sunlight off the dark silk, each batten and seam taut enough to shine. As we neared the platform, Hiroli adjusted the curve of her wings and slowed. Let the fledges land before she did and scurry out of the way.

They gathered, pale wings, ragged, gray robes, in a knot as close to Wik and Moc as they could. Ten Singers and one fledge were assembled in the plinth's center, surrounded by blackwing guards. I spotted silver-streaked hair and knew they had Viridi, Rumul's second in command. She'd been one of the Singers who'd judged my wingtest, nearly three Allmoons ago. The white in her hair was more dominant now. Wik clasped her hand in his.

None of the assembled Singers wore wings. Not even Moc.

Beliak fought to keep the fledges from getting too close to the guards.

I curved my fingers around my wing grips, preparing to land. My wings responded beautifully, my descent slow and graceful. Like an established councilor, someone who should be heard. Except I knew the truth: I was such a fledge at politics, I'd only caused damage so far. What if I made things worse now?

By the time my feet touched the plinth, several councilors watched me with unfathomable expressions, including Ezarit. How would I fare, when facing my mentor? I furled my wings quickly.

Hiroli scanned the crowd as she approached us. “I don't see Doran yet. Nor any of his party.”

Meantime, the entire city seemed to be assembling around the plinth. Citizens from all the towers mixed on balconies and tiers. Guards in hunter blue and others wearing many colors flew back and forth, preparing to repeat what was said on the plinth, even though the council had not officially convened.

Aside from the knot of Singer fledges staring at the impassive blackwing guards and the Singer leaders arrayed behind them, towers and plinth had a festival air, like Allmoons wingfights, with people arrayed to watch, as if in sport. The horror of this made my limbs feel heavy. Ezarit's face was equally grim.

More senior council members landed, including those from Grigrit. From their groupings, I guessed at alliances. Macal, from Mondarath, with a councilor from Wirra; both greeted Ezarit warmly.

Doran Grigrit approached with Vant Densira, my senior towerman, and a councilwoman wearing tower marks from Laria, one of the silkspinner towers in the southeast. They furled their wings and arranged their robes, looking between the groups. Looking for me.

I did not budge from my place beside Ezarit.

Hiroli Naza walked ahead of us, chin up, proud to be accompanying Ezarit in dissent. Tolerating me.

But the size of the group around Doran kept growing.