Updraft (10 page)

I'd passed. Something else had happened as well out there in the sky. Macal's stunt had set me apart from others who'd been trying only to pass. I had exceeded the test. I looked at Macal as he paced the length of the plinth. He winked. He'd known what he was doing all along.

The city's sounds were distant up here, but I imagined I could hear Elna clapping as I tied my Flight marker to my wings. My fingers trembled with exhilaration. What would Ezarit say about
that
level of flying? The best in the class?

Four students sat on the plinth now. They had failed Solo, or partial-marked several sections, and were not allowed to continue.

The students who remained prepared for the final part of the wingtest, Group. A flight with strangers, without a Magister in the lead.

Guards and hunters alighted on the plinth to join our towers. Nat noticed, of course. He puffed out his chest ever so slightly, ready to impress them.

 

6

FALL

The Singers placed each tower's student markers in a silk bag. They drew groups for us, and I was grateful for the blind selection. It made the process difficult for even them to meddle with. My chip was drawn for the south corner. I walked across the plinth, still breathing hard from my flight, and looked around at my cohort. Four students, one from each tower, and three volunteers.

They looked back at me, taking note of my patched wings and hand-me-down flying gear. I wondered if they'd heard about me. Kirit Lawsbreaker and the skymouth. I kept my chin up.

After a long silence, one boy said his name softly. “Beliak Viit.” The silence rose again, and Beliak fought it off. “After Allmoons, I will train as a ropemaker. What of the rest of you?”

Not a big flying trade, ropework, but Beliak would likely shift towers to apprentice. He needed to get full marks. Viit didn't keep many of its own unless they specialized in wings, dyes, and clothing, or mechanicals like Elna's bone hook. It traded for the rest of what it needed.

The girl from Wirra smiled shyly. “Ceetcee. I work in the gardens, but I wish to train as a bridge artifex, like my father.”

Wirra's specialty was woven structures, like the wingtest plinth and bridges. Ceetcee could apprentice at home, as I hoped to do.

Ceetcee fingered her wing traces nervously. Perhaps she needed to impress someone as much as I did.

A girl much smaller than the rest of us said, “Aliati Mondarath.” She didn't mention a profession. Mondarath traded herbs and beverages. Including what the Singer used to revive me after I shouted down the skymouth.

“I am sorry for your tower's troubles, Aliati,” Beliak said.

“And I yours,” Aliati returned to him.

We were all very formal. Very cautious.

“Kirit Densira,” I said. “I will be a trader.”

My group looked at their footwraps. Especially the volunteers. Yes, they'd heard of me. Then Beliak met my eyes and smiled. “Welcome.” Aliati and Ceetcee followed suit.

The Magisters gathered to draw groups. The whispers on the plinth fell silent. Dix pulled her hand from the silk bag, looked at what she held, then turned to grin at us, at me.

My luck disappeared like a lost breeze.

Behind our group, another knot of students and volunteers erupted in laughter. Nat's group. A third group was silent until someone screeched. Sidra.

“You can't be serious! I won't.”

I turned my head enough to see what she was protesting, without attracting attention from the Singers or Dix. Sidra pointed at Macal. “Not one more time.”

I expected to see the Magisters stifle her protests. Magister Florian often did so when Sidra kicked up a fuss in flight. Instead, they regrouped and conferred. Macal said something that made everyone nod except Dix. Sidra swished her wings.

In other years, someone would have been flown home, someone might have fallen by now. Sure, a few testers had washed out. But no one protested a group assignment.

The Magisters separated. Dix stalked towards Sidra, took her by the arm, and led her to another group. Nat's.

Where we stood, I could not hear their words. Nat's hand gestures and how he tilted his head gave him away. He wasn't pleased with the addition to his test group, but didn't want to offend Sidra. He bowed ever so slightly to Dix. The other students began to speak as well. Something shifted. Dix stayed with the group while Magister Viit left it and walked towards us. Somehow, Nat and Macal had turned Sidra's outburst into a way to spare me Dix's attention. If true, either would make a fine trader. And I would owe them both enormous favors.

At a signal from one of the Singers, Magister Calli led our group to the edge of the plinth. We looked south. We would need to beat a zigzag against the wind, retrieve a flag set on a distant tower this morning, and return. Other groups conferred, picked a first leader, and set out, going west, east, and towards the city center.

You can do this,
I reminded myself. Now that I had passed my solo flight, I felt a bit better. Still, anything could happen during Group. Crosswinds, a flock of whipperlings. A wingbreak. Skymouths. Especially with student fliers stressed from wingtesting.

Nat's group launched, with Sidra straining to get out in front. Group was all about flying with others in a tight scrum, and in close quarters. Important skills for heavily trafficked towers, and especially for traders, who sometimes need to carry heavier objects as teams.

The group had likely already decided on leader order, but Sidra's arrival had changed that too. She was positioning herself to lead the flight. I held my breath, waiting for Dix to discipline her, but she didn't. They disappeared, headed east.

I looked at my group. Who would take the lead among us? The city was watching.

Groups worked best when leaders alternated; that I knew from both Florian and Ezarit. Sidra's performance notwithstanding. Perhaps that was why everyone was hanging back. Beliak smiled, awkward. Ceetcee rocked on her heels. We'd be here all day.

I stepped forward. “I'll take first lead.” Would they follow me?

Their response was a stretch of quiet. I'd botched it already. I scrambled to fix it. “And then Beliak?”

Beliak nodded. “Then Ceetcee and then Aliati?” Both agreed. The volunteers readied themselves. Beliak and I exchanged nervous smiles.

I called the first formation, based on the direction we were headed and the prevailing wind: “Chevron.” Magister Calli smiled. I'd made a good decision. We launched, wing to wing, coordinating and signaling wind shifts with whistles and shouts.

We were a noisy crowd, all working together to find the fastest breezes on which to glide.

We were also a fast group. By cooperating, we flew high. We soon overtook Sidra and Nat's group, which was off course and struggling to keep up with her set path.

I signaled Beliak to take lead after we'd made half the distance. He shifted our formation to dove—a raked arrow—since the wind had grown more variable. I fell back to his left point and took a moment to look around.

Ezarit's lenses were a blessing, especially since I'd adjusted them properly. I could see far with them, was less troubled by sun glare than my companions, and my eyes weren't tearing from the wind.

Below, small flights of patchwork wings followed us for a few towers and then turned back. I'd done the same as a younger flier. Without wingmarks, they could not follow us for long.

We passed the farthest towers I'd been to, out of the northwest quadrant. I quieted as I realized the names of the towers I'd studied all my life went with shapes, twists of bone rising from the clouds just as Densira did.

Here and there, bridges spanned the gaps between towers. As we flew closer to the Spire, more towers were connected by the long spans of sinew. Everywhere, ladders grappled tiers. On balconies and tower tops, families stood and waved. Densira families were doing the same for children of distant towers, welcoming them to the rest of the city.

From my position next to Beliak, I spotted our banner on Varu's top tier and signaled. Beliak acknowledged me with a whistle and signaled for us to land atop the tower before the final leg of the test.

*   *   *

Varu was lower than Densira by at least three tiers. The tower was so crowded that hammocks and sacks had to hang anchored from balconies. They'd broken War long ago, though Magister Florian said once that they hadn't done more than plot and make a few raids on neighbors' water and food. In return, Singers took Varu's council, along with their families, to the Spire. They refused Varu any opportunity to rise.

Our landing made a racket, silk wings flapping against wind curls that crossed the tower top. The bone roof was smooth and white, showing no new growth. Cleats and pulleys carved around its edge supported the nets below.

Varu had put out a dried-vine basket for the wingtesters. It held figs and a sour-tasting juice. The new tastes reminded us how far we'd come from home.

I removed my lenses to clean them and looked out from Varu to its neighbors. I saw the Spire clearly for the first time, rising from the city center. I'd studied it for the wingtest, but had never been so close.

Taller than the rest of the city's towers, the Spire differed in other ways as well. Where our tiers rose supported by a central core, a solid wall of white bone wrapped the Spire. Ezarit told me once that the Spire's center was a wind-filled abyss. The Spire's market-bridges, designed by artifexes like Nat's father, hung suspended on pulleys in a ring around its wall. Behind the wall, the Spire held the Singers' secrets close.

From Varu's roof, I spotted gray-robed Singers perched atop the Spire, on a flat expanse of bone that could hold hundreds. More Singers emerged from within, like smoke taken to wing.

Beliak watched them too, as he chewed a fig. “One of my brothers was taken to the Spire, five years ago.” He frowned. “His name was Lurai.” He saw my look and hurried to clarify. “As a novice. Maybe he's up there, watching us.”

I swallowed, realizing Ezarit might speak this way about me if the Singer got what he wanted.

Beliak opened his mouth to speak again, but Magister Calli signaled us to ready for the return flight. I offered Varu's group banner to Beliak and Ceetcee, but they shook their heads. So I tied the banner into my robes. We flew before the wind this time; this was easier and more direct, but harder to spot turbulence. Ceetcee looked nervous.

“We'll work together,” Beliak said. “Try bee formation.” Ceetcee nodded. Magister Calli took note. I offered to serve as the tail of the bee, in charge of watching for shifts before they hit us. And for large birds of prey or skymouths.

I'd discovered while cleaning Ezarit's lenses that they had a special hasp with a bit of reflective glass inside. I flipped it back and forth, realizing it allowed a view of what was behind me, without my turning my head.

As I showed my group how the hasp worked, Ceetcee smiled. “You are lucky, then, and will bring us the same.” She used the traditional way of accepting a favor. I would fly at the tail.

I hoped she was right.

We launched again, lighter for having reached the halfway mark of our final trial.

The wind carried us around Varu, past the Spire, and back towards the northern quadrants.

Ceetcee's path had taken us too low for the crowded towers near the Spire. It was a mistake easily made by someone who'd grown up on the outer edges. A strong downdraft from the towers overlapped our gust and fouled our path. Beliak and I whistled a warning at the same time, but Ceetcee didn't alter course soon enough. Our group's progress slowed as she struggled to find a clear path.

Ceetcee passed control to Aliati, flying nearby. Aliati had seemed quiet on the plinth, and at Varu too. But in the lead, her voice was confident and clear. She pushed us to a tighter formation, then sleeked us around several towers, climbing with each gust. Soon we soared at the towers' peaks, chattering and whistling soft appreciation in the sunlight.

Even the volunteers seemed well pleased with the turn of events. They flew at the center of our formation: two hunters and a guard.

I kept one eye on the mirror and focused as best I could on keeping my wingtips pointed. The Magister fell back in formation, so she was just downwind of me.

She was grinning. “Well traveled,” she shouted. I saw the testing plinth ahead and grinned too.

We returned triumphant, my three new friends and I. We were flushed from the flight and windburned. Ceetcee had something in her eye, possibly one of her own long eyelashes. Aliati glowed with her success. Magister Calli walked towards the trade and craft guild leaders and relayed our trip with broad gestures. The tradesman turned my way and bowed. My heart lifted. I'd passed, and very well.

Another group landed, with Magister Macal. They were missing a student. Grim news, but not a disaster. “Left him at the turnaround tower,” he announced. “Broke formation without signaling. Nearly took the group out.”

We quieted our celebration.

*   *   *

Nat's group appeared in the distance, beating their way back against the wind. They, too, had all their number. An occasional speck broke the deep blue horizon line. Birds. Sidra still held lead, and the following wind drove her hoarse voice ahead of the formation.

They were just a few towers away from the plinth when a crosswind hit. I squinted and could almost see it. A squall of air and a rising cloud, a small one. At first I was glad. The gardens needed rain.

But the squall destabilized Sidra's formation. One of the hunters fought for balance in the gust. He was blown sideways, towards Nat.

Nat missed a shouted warning from Dix. The hunter knocked him off course. He tumbled right into the squall, one of his wings broken.

I cried out as he careened away from the city.

The wind spun him round, the one wing acting as a blade, his body a rotor. Nat's legs kicked out, but he fell like a leaf from a garden, twisting down below the plinth.