Ellie raised her hands. “If we give the skystone to the king, maybe he’ll free your mother!”
Nox groaned loudly. “You still don’t see it! They’re not who you think they are. The Goldwings, the king—they’re only interested in one thing: protecting themselves. Their power. Their place at the top of your stupid ladder. And they’ll kick down anyone who dares climb as high as them. They won’t give me beans for this stone. I’d be lucky if they didn’t imprison me too, or kill me the way they did my father.”
Turning to his crew, he said, “Gussie, Twig, let’s go. Goodbye, Sparrow. I hope you get everything you want. It’s what you deserve.”
He did not mean it as a compliment.
Gussie and Twig fluttered up after him wordlessly, their faces strained. Nox could tell they wanted to say something but were holding back. It didn’t matter. With Gussie limping slightly on her injured wing, they flew off together, leaving Ellie standing alone in the rain.
When Ellie reached the gates of Thelantis two days later, she knew she must look like a wild beggar. Face dirty, clothes torn and wings in need of grooming, she tried to make up for it with a proud stride and lifted chin.
The road to the city was clotted with travelers; it was early morning and the gates seemed to have just opened. Six guards stood at the entrance. At first, she wondered why there was a gate at all. Surely anyone could just fly over the wall.
Then she noticed more guards on the wall itself, carefully scanning the sky with crossbows in hand.
That ruled that idea out.
Looking up at the towers and buildings rising beyond the wall, she remembered the night she’d stolen the skystone … and the glimpse of a castle in the clouds. She’d never had the chance to ask the others whether they’d seen it too. But then, she hadn’t really seen anything, had she? Castles didn’t exist in the air. It had been a cloud, and her imagination had been running wild, what with gargols trying to kill her and all.
Shaking off the memory, she focused on the actual towers and walls before her. There was no denying the reality of Thelantis, at least.
People came and left through the gates, many with carts and wagons. She glanced around, wondering if she’d spot Nox, Gussie, and Twig, but they were nowhere to be seen. There’d been no sign of them at all since they’d flown off two days ago. She figured they must have some secret way of getting in and out of the city.
Clearly, many of these people were here for the Race. Groups of high clanners and their kids stood tall and proud above the humbler Finch, Robin, and other low clan farmers with their carts and livestock. They pushed their way in front, as if their size warranted them special privilege. The guards—both with black-and-white Shrike wings—waved the high clans in first.
Across a field to the right of the road, a ramshackle village flowed outward from the city wall, a conglomeration of canvas tents, stick huts, and shacks made of crates, barrels, and broken wagons. Perhaps it was some sort of market or slum.
Then she heard a tall Swan clanner muttering to his wife behind her. “They should have made the rotters gather behind the city, where we wouldn’t have to smell their stench coming and going.”
It was no market, Ellie realized.
This had to be Rottown.
Nox had told her about the village of wingrot sufferers, but she hadn’t imagined anything so sprawling. There had to be more people there than in all of Linden and Mossy Dell combined. She could see them moving slowly, as if in pain, their faces downturned and their wings hidden beneath cloths.
All those people suffering, many dying, driven out of their own homes and away from their families. It was even worse than she’d thought.
Her stomach cold, Ellie turned back to the road. Her eyes kept returning to the town of the sick, and guilt chewed at her insides. The only thing she could do now was to keep walking. She thought again of the skystone, and inwardly cursed herself for letting Nox steal it back from her.
Finally, after nearly two hours, she was shooed through the gate and into the city, where she found an explosion of activity.
The buildings were taller than anything back home. Wide porches jutted out at all angles, providing easy landing pads, and protective ashmarks were drawn over every door. The sky over the city bustled with people, a flurry of wings. She wondered that so many could fly without crashing into one another. Soldiers atop high, slender towers patrolled the sky, blowing harsh whistles at anyone who flew too fast or recklessly. In an area cordoned off by ropes, a group of kids played skyball, kicking around leather balls in a frenzy while onlookers cheered.
Built on the footslopes of Mount Garond, the city rose gradually uphill. Standing at the lowest point as she was, all Ellie had to do was look up to see the whole of Thelantis rising above her like a swelling wave. At the city’s highest point sat a white palace that had to be the seat of Garion and the Eagle clan. She marveled, trying to make herself believe she was really seeing all of this.
“Watch out!” yelled a voice, and Ellie turned to see a Hummingbird boy speeding toward her, his emerald wings buzzing. She stepped aside just in time to avoid being hit.
“Stay outta the messenger lane, dummy!” the boy yelled as he blazed past. He wore a pair of glass goggles, and a harness on his back supported the satchel that hung beneath his chest. He pulled a rolled-up paper out of it and expertly slung it into a letterbox hanging on the door of a nearby shop.
Ellie realized she had been standing atop a line of white bricks that curved away into the city. She stayed clear of them as another Hummingbird messenger buzzed past, tossing stone-weighted letters right and left.
Ellie turned away, her eyes snagging on a flash of white. She gasped as a dozen Goldwings strode by in full ceremonial uniforms—capes hemmed in gold, white leather vests and boots, golden wings embroidered across their proud chests. They walked in four rows of three, marching in unison, faces shining with noble purpose. Their spears glinted with every step, laid across their shoulders so that the Eagle feathers hanging from the shafts fluttered softly behind them.
Catching Ellie’s stare, one of them—a man with obsidian skin and the brown-and-white-striped wings of the Hawk clan—smiled at her.
A sudden piercing whine followed by a loud pop pulled her attention away. She looked up to see streaking pods shot high into the sky, then bursting into explosions of colorful paper that fluttered down. Soon, the air was filled with the stuff. Children flew around, grabbing handfuls.
“What’s happening?” she asked a small Nightingale boy.
“Race day!” he cried happily. “They’re setting off the confetti bombs!”
Ellie’s heart jolted. “What! Already?” Had she lost track of the days? Was she too late? For a moment, the world around her spun and she thought she might faint dead away.
“Nah,” said the boy. “Tomorrow. They’re just welcoming the racers to Thelantis.”
Letting out a relieved breath, Ellie brushed paper from her shoulders. She started to ask the boy where racers were supposed to go to sign in, but he dashed away after another shower of confetti.
She found herself following the flow of the crowd, which took her into a busy marketplace. The street here was wide enough for ten wagons but instead was full of people and stalls and noise. She walked through in a state of shock, dizzied and overwhelmed, as vendors shouted at her to buy roasted fish, seashell jewelry, wing combs, flying goggles, rarest silks and coconuts from the far south, fur-lined capes, little plates with King Garion’s silhouette painted on them, blown glass earrings, maps of Thelantis.
A change in the breeze brought a strong scent to her nose, one that stopped her dead in her tracks. For a moment, the crowd blurred around her as a heady rush of familiarity sent a splinter of shock through her frame. She inhaled deeply, unable to believe what she was smelling.
Home.
She smelled home.
Looking frantically around, she finally spotted it: a stall to her left, with a yellow awning
and cheerful ribbon tassel.
Spread on its tables were jars and jars of sunflower oil.
SPARROW FARMS’S FINEST SUNFLOWER OIL read their labels. PUTS THE WIN IN WINGS!
All the lovely scents the Sparrow perfumers had concocted—lavender, strawberry, sage, lemon, and her favorite, apple blossom. The oils shone like golden honey. She’d doubtless picked and crushed the seeds for many of those very jars herself.
Watching the people of Thelantis jostle one another to get their hands on the jars of oil, buying it by the box, she felt a warm glow of pride race over her skin. But it was immediately followed by a sudden, powerful loneliness that sucked at her with all the force of a river’s current. The oils were here, but there were no Sparrows in sight; the booth was run by a family of Orioles. It was just a reminder of how far from home she was.
Though Ellie had never been around so many people in all her life, she’d never felt so alone. Perhaps the city had opened its arms to welcome the racers, but it certainly didn’t feel like it was welcoming her. A woman bumped into her, cursing her for getting in the way. Ellie mumbled an apology, stumbling back, only to collide with someone else, who shoved her and called her a rude name.
Gussie would know where I’m supposed to go, she thought. Nox would know the quickest way of getting there. And Twig … he’d hate these crowds as much as I do.
Ellie felt tears burn in her eyes. She knotted her fists and rubbed them away.
Feeling a sudden need for space, she launched upward, the downdraft from her wings knocking off hats. A chorus of curses and angry shouts rose from the crowd, but she ignored them and pumped her wings, lifting higher. The market dropped away. Confetti burst in the sky around her. She rose above it all, to the cool, wild breezes that combed the sky above Thelantis, crisp air carrying the scent of the cedars and pines from the forest outside the walls.
She hovered for a moment, studying the streets that webbed outward. Then she spotted a stream of high clanners about her age. They flew higher, toward the upper city. Judging by the kids following them and throwing confetti, they were here for the Race of Ascension too.
Ellie trailed after them.
A short flight later, the high clanners spiraled downward to land in an octagonal stone courtyard, in front of a wide building decorated with fluttering white pennants. Ellie landed softly in the back. A crowd was already gathered at the front doors of the building, which were shut firmly. On either side of the doors stood a Goldwing knight.
Ellie let out a breath of awe. This had to be Honorhall, the headquarters of the Goldwings. She clutched her hands to her stomach and stared.
“Hurry, Father!” a Hawk girl yelled. “They’ll open the doors in two minutes! If I’m not at the front, I won’t make it into the race!”
Her father grumbled as she sprinted over to the gathering crowd and tried to push her way in.
Ellie gasped.
All those people were here to enter as wild cards? There had to be a hundred of them—and there were only twenty spots. And of course, she noted with unease, she was the only low clanner in sight. She was a head and shoulders shorter than even the smallest of them. There was no way she’d be able to force her way through.
Backing away, she chewed her lip and thought. She had not come all this way just to fail now.
Then she remembered something Gussie had told her: What you think of as weaknesses are actually your strengths. You’ve just got to use them right.
Setting her jaw, Ellie got down on all fours and began to crawl. She was too small to push her way through the crowd—but she was definitely small enough to crawl between their legs, unnoticed.
Above, she heard the kids start shouting. A long groan told her the doors were beginning to peel open. She crawled faster, scrabbling around ankles, through legs, keeping her wings pulled tight to her back.
Then, at last, she popped up to her feet—at the very front of the throng. The doors swung open before her, and six tall Goldwing knights stepped out in full dress uniform, almost blindingly bright.
“Young warriors of the Clandoms,” proclaimed the lead knight. “Welcome to the Race of Ascension’s wild card draw. May the luck of skies be with you.”
Nox had never been so glad to smell sewage.
Sure, it burned his nostrils and made him gag, but that stink meant he was back in Thelantis. He was home.
Or at least, nearly home. There was still at least a mile of sewer pipes to crawl through before they were safely inside the city walls.
“Have I said I am not okay with this plan?” Gussie called out.
“Twelve times,” Nox grumbled.
“I just don’t see why we can’t go through the front gates like everybody else. It’s not like the guards know we’re thieves.”
“I don’t see why we have to go into the city at all,” said Twig. “We could have been robbers in the woods, sleeping in trees, never taking baths …” He sighed wistfully, but avoided a dark puddle of mysterious, oozing goo on the floor. Even Twig had his limits. He’d miserably said goodbye to most of his little pets before they’d entered the sewer system, but Lirri was still curled in his pocket, her small horns peeking out.
When they came to an intersection of pipes, Nox looked around till he found the black arrow marking the correct path.
“Ugh.” Gussie shook a glob of slime off her shoe. “This is nasty, Nox.”
“We’ll be home soon, and it’ll all be over.” He turned and smiled. “All of it, Gussie. The Talon will take care of everything. You’ll get into that fancy school for geniuses. And Twig, you’ll get your ship sailing south.”
“To go see the elephants,” said Twig, eyes shining.
“As many elephants as you want. All we have to do is get this stone to the Talon and our lives will change forever.”
“You’ll get your mother back,” Gussie added.
Nox’s heart squeezed. “Yes.”
“Then what will you do? Keep thieving?”
“No way. I’m getting her as far from Thelantis as I can. Maybe we’ll come with you to the jungle, Twig.”
He hadn’t let himself think much beyond this mission, but now he couldn’t help it. He tried to imagine his mother’s face, but it had been years since he’d seen her. Well, soon enough he’d set right all the terrible things that had happened to his family. They’d sail away and never look back.
The sewer tunnels took them beneath the streets of Thelantis. They passed under grates flickering with shadows of people walking above. The busy hubbub of voices felt like a relief to Nox after the quiet wilderness they’d traveled through. Not that he’d ever admit it aloud, but in the woods, he’d always felt a little bit lost. Now he was back in his element, in a world he knew upside down.
At last, they emerged through a loose grate beneath a bridge, not far from the den where they would meet the Talon. But the Lord of Thieves only conducted business at night, so they’d have to wait till then to turn over the skystone.
Stretching, Nox looked around and grinned. This was Knock Street, one of the main slums in Thelantis, and everyone here was either a thief, a con artist, a fraud, or a smuggler … In other words, they were Nox’s kind of people. As the saying went, on Knock Street, rules were optional. No one blinked an eye to see three kids stumble out of the sewers.
They made their way to the Chivalrous Toad, the most notorious tavern in the city. The owner, Borge, waved when they came in.
“Oi!” Borge yelled. “It’s Nox Hatcher! You three are still alive? Pay up, Winster.”
He held out a meaty palm, and his partner, Winster—a skinny, one-eyed man—grumbled and handed over a coin.
“We’re hungry, gentlemen,” Nox said. “Haven’t had a proper meal in weeks.”
“Then sit yourselves down and be served,” said Borge. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “So … there’s a rumor been going around about you three, and just what the Talon sent you to fetch for him. Is it true—”
“Now, Borge.” Nox waved a hand. “You know what the Talon thinks about people discussing his business.”
“Right, right.” Borge backed off. He might’ve owned the Toad, but the Talon owned Borge. It was common knowledge that the Talon’s gang operated out of the tavern, which was why Nox and his friends got free meals there. But some things were too secret even to share among fellow thieves.
As they ate rabbit stew—at least, Nox hoped it was rabbit—a few of the other patrons gave them hostile stares. He was careful not to touch the pocket where the skystone was hidden, which would be a dead giveaway that he had something worth keeping in there. And anything worth keeping was worth stealing.
Twig ignored his spoon and picked up his bowl, guzzling noisily while Lirri chewed a piece of meat in his pocket. Gussie stared at her stew, her hands in her lap.
“What’s wrong?” Nox asked her. “You’ve never turned up your nose at Winster’s Of-Course-It’s-Rabbit-Meat-Stop-Asking-Questions Stew before.”
“It’s just …” Gussie sighed. “I’ve been thinking about what Ellie said. About the … you know.”
Nox scowled. He’d spent the last two days carefully not thinking about the Sparrow. Or about how much her betrayal had hurt.
“Ellidee Meadows,” he said slowly, chasing a chunk of slippery meat around his bowl with his spoon, “is a stuck-up, self-righteous know-it-all. I wouldn’t think twice about anything she said.”
“She wasn’t that bad,” Gussie argued. “She saved our skins a few times.”
“The race is tomorrow,” said Twig. “Do you think she’ll win?”
Of course she’ll win, Nox thought. If she can’t outfly them, she’ll just out-stubborn them.
“I don’t care,” he said. “I haven’t even thought about her once since she left.”
“Liar,” said Gussie.
Nox slammed down his spoon and glared at her. “She betrayed us.”
“Then why do I feel like the one betraying something? Nox … what if she was right? We could be helping so many people with the … you know … and instead we’re only using it for ourselves.”
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