Cloudbound (18 page)

“I don't know,” Viridi whispered. Her pupils had dilated, she no longer focused on me. “A ghost. A story.”

A clatter of wing battens made me jump and scoop up the bone shards and what they contained. I shoved all of it in my satchel as Hiroli landed close beside me, carrying Moc tight against her chest. Hiroli's wings were seared in places, but still held. Moc's were torn. Nearly gone.

I touched the boy's shoulder gently. “Ciel is above, on the towertop. I saw her. Safe.” I held his gaze and repeated myself. “Safe with my family.”

Moc took a deep breath and stared at me, then slowly blinked. Nodded that he understood. Then he saw Viridi. He pulled from my grip and went to her.

“Ezarit? Doran? The other Singers?” I asked Hiroli. Speaking made me cough, and once I started, I couldn't stop.

“You need water,” Hiroli said. She turned and shouted, “Varu, help!”

No answer on the empty balcony. Varu had been under the Spire's interdictions so often, any sign of Singers probably terrified them. Especially the lowtower.

“I'm all right.” I sounded like I'd been chewing bone. Worse than Kirit's voice ever had. I really wasn't all right. My chest hurt, and I didn't want to take too deep a breath for fear of coughing again. But I wouldn't look weak in front of Hiroli.

“We need aid!” she shouted again.

The balcony remained silent. Beyond the stone fruit pots, the tier was shuttered. I'd been so focused on Viridi, I hadn't seen it. They'd barricaded as if for a skymouth migration.

Hiroli beat on the shutters, but no one answered.

“Cowards,” she said.

“Tower by tower, secure yourselves,” I whisper-sang. Each word carved pain on my seared lungs. I'd once hid behind shutters myself. When skymouths attacked, warnings arrived by kavik that made all the tiers close themselves away for safety. Varu was remarkably quiet; as if the fighting had scared them inside.

I looked back towards the sky, seeking help. Panic and fear mixed with anger. I tasted smoke, spit ash. Cowards indeed.

Hiroli pulled me from the exposed balcony, behind a tangle of garden vines. “Look,” she pointed. Blackwings circled through the towers, spreading out through the city like dark birds. Their wings matched the pair Hiroli wore. “The guards are helping.”

Not very likely blackwing guards would help Singers, even ones we'd pulled from the clouds.

“I hope so,” I said lightly, but I moved to guard Viridi as best I could. She was a Singer, and Hiroli wore black wings. Could I protect Moc at the same time? “What do you intend?”

Hiroli held up both hands. “I'm a councilor. I am Ezarit's apprentice. My tower makes the black dye, that's all. I mean these two no harm. They didn't attack us.” She held her hand palm up, as if to cup the clearing sky, “But there were Singers in the sky!”

At Viridi's side, Moc pressed the sodden cloth to her wound. I heard a few snatches of song and whispers.
Don't die, Viridi.
“Where did they come from? Not many Singers—at least not the leaders—are left.” The fledges, yes, and several older acolytes. They'd been spared from this morning's Conclave and were still at their quarters, hopefully.

Hiroli rubbed her forehead and spoke in a low tone, as if hoping Moc couldn't hear her. “There seemed to be enough to commit war and Treason, both.”

“I'm not certain—” I began. “I saw one of the attackers' faces. No tattoos.”

She shook her head. “They could have been covered up. Besides, not all Singers have marks. Macal doesn't.” She was certain.

“But council confiscated all the gray wings a moon ago. Where did they get the wings?”

Hiroli narrowed her eyes, as if trying to remember what she'd seen. “If a tower is using Singer clothing and Singer weapons to wage war? Everyone must know so they can protect themselves.”

Dix had access to the gas they'd used as weapons, as well as the floating platform. I didn't know where the wings were stored, but if it was at Grigrit, she had access to those too. Ezarit's words:
That one has been dangerous since the Singers rejected her when we were fledges. She's so conflicted.

Who'd attacked us was not yet clear, but one thing was: The Rise warned of war. We were closer to it than ever.

City of my father and mother, ancient ever-rising city of towers and sky. City I'd flown to defend. Now wounded. Now broken.

A fresh gust of wind blew smoke and stench towards us, shouts and whistles too. A fresh crew of guards and volunteers were searching the towers for the fallen. These searchers didn't risk the clouds, but they scoured the lowtowers right to the cloudtop for survivors.

“The protesters,” I said. “The councilors?” I'd seen my family safely landing on the Varu towertop, but who else survived? Who hadn't?

Hiroli shook her head. She knew no more than I did.

My headache grew.

Moc began keening as Viridi struggled and gasped for air. “She was good. She tried to help.” He wept as he stroked her hair, hand as gentle as a breeze on a bird's wing.

“Varu, aid!” I shouted once more. Where were they?

Over the balcony edge, a guard spiraled lower, looking to pass nearby. The longer we remained on this balcony, the more exposed Viridi was. I banged once more on the shutters. Heard movement behind. Something being dragged to brace the shutter. I began to yell in frustration, borderless words that died in my throat.

I needed assistance, but could not afford to attract the roving blackwings' attention. “We need to go up,” I said. “A tier with water. And medicine.” Closer to the blackwings, perhaps, but on the towertop, we would find people who were not afraid.

My family was at the top of Varu. Could we make it there? Could Viridi?

A blackwing flew near Varu, just above us. I pushed Moc among the planters and pots and tried to hide Viridi in my shadow. Through the shutters at my back, I heard whispering.

A kavik landed on the balcony and opened its beak to caw. Hiroli reached into her robe and found a piece of graincake. Fed the dark-winged bird until it allowed her to brush ash from its head. Then she gently lifted the chips tied to the bird's foot before it could signal to the tier's residents that there was a message.

“The towers must remain Fortified for safety,” Hiroli read. “Blackwings hunt traitors who have twice tried to destroy the city, once with skymouths and now with fire.” She looked from Moc and Viridi to me.

“The Council, or what's left of it, is hunting Singers.” The words chilled me, though I'd expected it. Kirit was still out there, somewhere. They had Wik. And I'd left Ciel with my family atop Varu.

Give this tier enough time,
I realized,
and they'll trade Viridi and Moc to the blackwings in order to gain favor for themselves.
“We have to leave.” I no longer cared where.

Had the attackers been Singers? Not a chance.

Hiroli shook her head. She lifted the skein in her hands. “And”—she pointed to familiar sigils on the chips—“they seek anyone who supported the Singers as well. Ezarit, Kirit, the protesters. Us.”

Even as the smoke cleared and guards searched for survivors, the city had begun hunting its own.

 

14

REMEMBRANCE

Heartbeats counted loud time on the quiet tier. I grabbed for the kavik to see the message for myself. The bird was large, and when it opened its wings in panic at my approaching hands, it seemed for a moment to block the sky. A rude bird. But it didn't take flight. It snapped its beak at me, a stranger with no food. Tilted its head. Cackled.

So different than Maalik. Who was safe, I hoped. Beliak had sent him to the protesters. To Ceetcee, I knew now. Maalik knew her by sight. And Ceetcee was safe.

But I wondered at this kavik. “It doesn't know me.” Kaviks of the same quadrant knew almost everyone. Like whipperlings, kaviks remembered faces. They seemed to share information among themselves as well: who carried food, who threw bone chips at them. There were no strangers. We were in the northwest, barely. “I've flown this quadrant since I was a fledge. Why does this kavik not know me?”

Hiroli shook her head. She didn't know. She'd woven a few glass beads into her dark hair, like Ezarit. They sparkled cheerfully in the light, but her face was smudged and scraped. “Sent from the south, maybe?” She bundled up the message skein so Moc could not see that he was named, and flapped her hand at the bird until it flew away. “The messages blame the Singers for Spirefall and for this attack, both. They sound sure of it. But I think the surviving council needs to know what you saw.”

Hiroli was already tightening her wingstraps. “We'll go up to Ezarit's tier, uptower. She'll stop this.”

Ezarit hasn't been able to stop anything, not for a long time. Not even a vote within her own council.

Viridi groaned; the side where she'd been snared by the bone spur oozed dark blood.

“I don't think she'll fly well,” I said.

“Then you have to leave her.” Hiroli didn't flinch at the thought. She was accustomed to obeying Fortify: towers must secure themselves, and people too.

But the Law didn't end there.
Except in city's dire need.
This certainly qualified.

“I won't leave her. This tier would turn her in or let her die alone. She doesn't deserve that.” As Moc watched with wide eyes, I bent to whisper to the Singer, knowing these might be the last words she heard. “Risen, we must move again. You're injured. If you choose to go with us, I regret any suffering this causes you.”

“I am tired, Councilor,” she slurred, her eyes still closed. So soft was her speech, I wondered if I imagined her words.

“We'll go up,” I decided. To the towertop. Eight tiers, maybe. There might be medicine up there. Water.

I lifted her again in my arms. She felt lighter now, her face still, frozen in a mask of pain. She'd died rather than fly again. I closed my eyes and lowered the body to the tier floor, unable to look at Moc.

“Aunt Viridi?” Moc whispered.

I barely kept myself from falling to my knees on the lowtower balcony. I'd wanted to take her to safety. Instead, I'd carried a Singer to her death.

Stifling my grief made my headache worse. I envied Moc's barefaced sorrow. He'd sung to her. He'd watched her die. His family. He looked suddenly very young, his face a mask of snot and tears.

I understood the feeling, even if I kept my emotions barricaded now. If anything had happened to my family … Though I knew they were safe, or had been, my heart raced at the thought.

My family. I had to get to them, but couldn't move as Moc sobbed. The whispers behind the shutters increased.

Moc turned from Viridi's body and rushed at the doors, his fists balled as if intent on breaking them down.

Hiroli grabbed him and tried to calm the boy, but he sobbed louder. How could I calm him? Wrestling him into the sky wouldn't do that, no matter how badly we needed to leave.

What would Elna do? She'd feed Moc. Get him water. We had none. She'd sing. That took time. Meantime, my heart pounded questions: Who survived? Is my family safe?

I knelt by the fledge and put my hand on his head. “We'll sing Remembrances for her.” It would have to be quick.

Moc sniffled. “Singers don't have Remembrances.”

“What do you have?” Hiroli asked.
Did you have,
I silently corrected her.

Moc bowed his head. “Their passage was marked in the codex. Their body fed the clouds, like everyone.” He stopped crying, but his face was mottled with red splotches.

Tobiat had told me once that the Singers kept our culture intact when we rose through the clouds. “The Singers trained in every tower song and Remembrance tradition, for the towers.”

Moc shivered. Wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes, blue like his sister's, were ringed bright pink. “Ciel was studying those, before.”

Very gently and still trying to think how Elna would talk to the fledge, but feeling every moment pass, I asked, “What's a favorite ritual, from any tower?”

He shook his head, so mired in grief, he couldn't help us help him.

We were so close to the clouds here. So close to death ourselves. I sang Remembrance softly, under my breath, the way Densira and its neighbors did these things. I tried not to rush it. Hiroli joined me.

Return on the wind, friend.

The city marks your passage.

We let silence hang in the air when we finished singing, and we all looked up to say good-bye. The sun was still high above us. We didn't look down, not at the clouds, nor at the smoke still lingering, patchy, in the sky.

I heard Moc gasping beside me, trying to stop crying. I bit my cheek hard.

“That was good,” he finally said.

“I can let her go into the clouds, all right? You fly with Hiroli to Bissel's lowtower. Hide there. Aliati should be back from her search for Kirit soon. She'll need to know about the attack.”

Moc nodded again. Hiroli stared at me. I took her aside.

“You have to guard him. They'll take him. He had nothing to do with this.” She wore black wings. I was betting she could fend off the searchers. I couldn't take the fledge where I needed to go next.

She pressed her lips together. “We'll wait for you there.” She lifted Moc and flew him away, closer to the clouds.

I used a tether to lower the Singer from the tower. Viridi's body disappeared into the clouds, carving a hole in the mist that slowly closed up as the air forgot her name.

 

15

HEARTBONE

As I pulled myself up through shifting gusts towards the top of Varu, my shoulders ached like I, too, was once more draped with Lawsmarkers. Smoke and sorrow pressed painfully against my temples.