Cloudbound (6 page)

“Did you eat already, Nadoni?” Kirit asked her, setting down her satchel.

My own stomach growled softly. I would be headed to Densira and a home-cooked meal, but for the Spire. “Kirit, really—”

She turned to me. Spoke firmly, but gently. “We can spare a few minutes. These fledges are under my protection. The tower has grown stingy with its food, and I want to make sure they are prepared and well enough to move if need be.” She held my gaze with hers until I bowed my head, agreeing to wait. She sounded like Ezarit. The matter was urgent, but the fledges came first.

Two more heads appeared from behind the screen. “This is Minlin,” Kirit said. “And you know Moc.”

I gritted my teeth. The boy had been a plague on every tower agreeing to host him and his twin. Grigrit was his latest stop.

The fledges watched us shrug from our wingstraps. Moc's eyes were locked on the silk spans, the bone battens of my wingset. He seemed hungrier for them than for food.

“We're fine,” Minlin said, her chin high.

“Starving,” said Moc.

“We haven't eaten much since the dirgeon yesterday,” Nadoni acknowledged slowly from the corner.

Near the tier's thick core wall, gristled laughter sounded. Lawsmarkers clattered together and then the laughter stopped and coughing began. Minlin paled, but didn't lower her chin or drop Kirit's gaze.

Kirit turned to me. “Do you have anything in your satchel?”

I had the last of Ceetcee's dried apples, spiced with sweet herbs. I pulled these out and shared them with Minlin and Nadoni first, then Moc. He'd edged close enough that he could touch my wings. I furled them tight so he wouldn't get food on them.

My new wings had specialized cams and pulls that made them much more responsive to the wind than previous designs. They had to be stowed with care.

If my wings had been damaged in the Spire?
I would never have heard the end of it from Doran. He'd recommended his own wingmaker for the design. I set them aside reluctantly. Kirit had shucked hers off as soon as she landed. On second thought:
incredible luck. They weren't damaged, and we retrieved the codex.
That was skyblessed, and I shouldn't forget it.

Nadoni sidled near Moc, eyeing my wings as if she could eat them. Hers had been taken too. All of the Singers' wings except Kirit's had been taken, while novices' wings had been replaced with fledge wings. The sets already leaning against the core wall looked like they had less control, less power than what Singer fledges were used to. I hadn't been part of that decision, but councilman Vant had explained that it would “help them fit in.”

Taking their gray wings had been necessary. I'd figured replacing fledges' wings could dampen tower jealousies. Now it seemed cruel.

Doran hadn't argued the point. So I hadn't either.

“Risen, may I?” She asked so politely, I let Nadoni take my wings. My shoulders relaxed, despite myself. She placed my wings reverently near the pairs of patched, faded tower wings.

Moc handed me a small sack of stale-smelling water. “All we've got left. Market tomorrow.”

“We have enough markers for fruit now,” Kirit said, patting her satchel. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food cooking at home in Densira. “And better sleeping mats too, if we're careful.”

The comforts of home I was used to were far away. I imagined Ceetcee tucking quilts around Elna to keep her warm. Settling in to watch the stars on our balcony. A pot of chicory ready to warm for the morning. We were all young still, save Elna, but it was a good place to be. I missed it now.

In the oil-light here at Grigrit, I could see that the tiny tier space they'd been assigned was indeed as cold and damp as Kirit had said. The fledges pulled the mats from the wall. Down dribbled from torn seams.

I pulled Kirit aside while the novices went to work on the dried apples.

“Why do you put up with this?”

She shook her head, the few sparse braids she'd been able to coax from her hair swinging around her brow. “How could I do differently when they have no choice?” Her eyes met mine, pleading for understanding. I nodded, trying. I would never go downtower again if I could help it.

“Why not try to bring them up with you? At least the fledges?”

“Moc,” she said. “And Ciel.” She didn't have to say any more. Of all the Singer fledges, the twins stood out, both for being twins and for what the Singers first tried to wave off as irreverent playfulness. Even from a distance, across the tier, I could see that Moc's wrists and shoulders were decorated with minor Lawsmarkers. And a few majors.

“Stealing?” That was a new one.

“I didn't!” He crossed the distance to where we stood in two long strides. He was much taller than when I'd seen him after Spirefall.

“Moc!” Kirit ended the argument before it began. Turned to me. “He wants to fly. He wants to help. He could teach tower fledges so much with the right wings.”

Moc hissed under his breath. “And I tried, didn't I? They like trying to hear, and think my dives are funny. But these wings”—he threw a hand towards the pile near the wall—“didn't work right, and their parents caught us, and—” He held out his left hand. Two more medium markers dangled from his wrist.
Disruption, danger to tower.

I frowned and cleared my throat. Caught Kirit's warning look to Moc and stopped myself before lecturing him. I could see she'd been trying already. “And where is Ciel?”

They both stared at me. Finally Moc spoke. “Summoned to council two days ago to talk about learning echoing while young. Didn't you see her? She was supposed to be back by now.”

It was the first I'd heard of it.

“Someone else's project, probably.” I wasn't sure who was working with the Magisters on navigation, but Doran would know where she was sheltering. The brass-haired boy's face brightened at the fact I took his concern seriously. A relief to see he did care for something besides my wings. “We'll get her back to you.”

“Thank you, Risen.” He used the honorific without dissembling. With a bow, he sat with the novices, like a proper fledge. But the stealing. That was unlucky.

Kirit saw me looking and nudged me. Calling my attention to the dark shadows approaching, blocking the purpling sky. “Doran's guards. To see who's come to visit the Singers at this hour.”

“Doran knew where you'd gone.”

She laughed softly. “Yes, but they can also count. Two return after one left? Time to send the blackwings down.”

The hunched form in the corner laughed again. A brittle sound, sharp in the damp air.

“That Singer,” Kirit explained, “has barely spoken since I moved downtower, except to spit ‘Lawsbreaker' at me. He likes to laugh at us.” The comment made the elder Singer laugh harder, until his coughing began again.

In the oil-light, I could see the elder Singer now, weighted down with layer after layer of Lawsmarkers. It didn't surprise me. Across the city's towers, Wik and the other Singer leaders were similarly weighted, and several were under guard for their own safety. There was a water sack within his reach, and Nadoni walked to him and handed him an apple as I watched.

With a clatter and a loud laugh, Doran's guard landed on the tier balcony. “Singers!” she shouted. “Rise.”

Kirit brushed apple bits from her robes. The novices and Moc stood too. I heard the elder Singer struggle to stand, clattering.

“You are welcome,” Kirit said, bowing. She had begun to straighten when Doran Grigrit himself landed behind the guard and furled his dark wings. Kirit bowed lower instead. “You are welcome, Risen.” The novices followed suit. I stayed upright.

Doran left the guard on the balcony, and strode into the tier until he nearly filled it. The man was a giant. His wings were the biggest Liras Viit had ever made. “Kirit Skyshouter, well returned! I'd expected you uptower. Had a meal prepared.”

My stomach rumbled again.

Kirit kept her head bowed. I'd never seen her abase herself like that. It was chilling.

“You may speak freely,” Doran said. “You are among friends.”

When Kirit raised her head, it was obvious from her clenched jaw that she didn't feel friendly at all. I was stunned too, and a bit awed. In council, Doran Grigrit rarely deferred to anyone. But neither had Kirit, ever.

Politics, Nat,
Ceetcee had told me.
If you want to rise in council, you must become savvier about politics.
Here, in this downtower tier, I was far from my depth.

Then Doran turned to me. “Well?”

I smiled, proud. “We found the codex.” Kirit's jaw clenched harder, and her hands curled to fists. Clouds. I hadn't meant to steal her glory. “I mean, Kirit found it.”

“Excellent!” Doran held out his hands. “Let's see it.”

Kirit put both hands on her satchel, which she'd kept slung across her chest after she'd removed her wings. “I'll share it with council in the morning. With the full council.” She turned to me, eyebrows raised. “As we'd agreed.”

We'd agreed on no such thing, but the tension in the room made me wonder what I was missing. I nodded to buy myself time to figure it out.

Doran seemed to billow in the dim light. Then he let out a calm breath. It was a technique I'd seen him use in council and had been trying to emulate. He was showing us patience, leadership. Despite deep misgivings. “Of course. As is proper, Skyshouter. Respect is so important. But let me suggest that you turn the codex over to a council representative now, for safekeeping.”

If I'd had fire, I could have lit the air, Kirit was so tense. I knew Doran well enough by now to see he was being helpful but was running out of patience. He was pushing hard. And I'd known Kirit all my life. She would refuse as hard as she was pushed.

Doran extended his hand, reaching for the satchel again. For the codex. Kirit turned to me. “I will give it to a councilor,” she finally agreed. She pulled the strap over her head, ruffling the down-thin hair near her forehead. Held out the satchel to me. “Nat will keep it safe tonight.”

The sack was heavier than my Lawsmarker-filled bag, and more awkward. I held it carefully. This would suit Doran and Kirit both. As long as I could swap it back to Kirit to carry tomorrow.

“Fine,” Doran said, the word tightly clipped and sharp edged. “When will you fly?”

Kirit met his eyes. “As soon as I see these fledges well provisioned at the market tomorrow. Unless you brought a meal down?”

She had defied him and was now questioning him. I'd never seen Doran so close to yelling. He was an astute politician, usually. But Kirit's challenge was too much for him.

Time for diplomacy. Or at least distraction.

“We have much to tell the council, and much that Grigrit needs to know as well,” I began. “The Spire is dying, as Lith once did. Nearby towers should be warned that it could collapse at any moment.” A new worry emerged.
Would the city hold Kirit responsible for this too?

Doran nodded slowly, letting me distract him from his frustration. “This I suspected.”

Kirit pointed over his shoulder, to the Spire's dark bulk in the distance. “And yet you let your people live in its shadow without preparations? What about the other towers?”

“I am making preparations, Skyshouter. Many are at work on the problem. You would know more if you had agreed to help lead the tower. Your job today was to find the codex.”

“What preparations?” I asked, forgetting we weren't in private conversation. I'd not heard Doran mention any preparations.

The Councilor ground his teeth. I began to see why Kirit had stayed bowed. Doran at home in Grigrit was not appreciative of, or accustomed to, being crossed. He was much more malleable in council.

But at the same time I'd asked my question, Kirit said, “And I found it. You must keep your end of the bargain.”

For the first time in a long time, I was almost completely in the dark. That seemed to happen a lot around Kirit. She'd mentioned a bargain in the Spire, although Doran hadn't brought it up when he'd first proposed I accompany her on the expedition. But Kirit hadn't explained what the bargain was. I hated being a game piece. Honesty was the only way out. “What bargain?”

Neither of them looked at me. “That you did,” Doran said. “But the council leadership won't know what to do with the pages.”

“How do
you
know what to do with them?” I asked, but Doran gave me a look that said,
Let me work.
I knew that look from council. I'd obeyed it many times and watched admiringly as Doran maneuvered a situation to his advantage. Now my concern about whatever arrangement Kirit had tried to make with him deepened. “What was the bargain?”

Doran raised his voice. “Councilor Densira. This is not your tower. Nor are these your citizens.”

He'd used the honorific, but I'd touched a nerve. Interfered with a plan. And it frustrated me that I didn't know what the plan was. No one spotted my discomfort. Doran had turned back to Kirit and was preparing to lecture her too. Kirit looked tired, her head bowing. I hated seeing that.

My fingers caught up the chip I'd tied to my wrist; I brushed the etched surface beneath my thumb. “With respect, Councilor Grigrit,” I said. “Kirit Skyshouter is still under my protection, as she has not yet discharged her duties to the council. She must still help translate the codex.”

Now I had their attention. Kirit's eyes were wide, but a small smile played at the corner of her mouth. Doran's glower deepened.

I'd stepped into trouble again without knowing what I was up against.

Doran calmed himself after several long moments. “You are correct, Councilor Densira. My thanks for the reminder. Will you accompany me to the balcony?”

He turned on his heel as he said it, his half-furled wings nearly clipping me in the process. I followed him out.