Horizon

by Fran Wilde

  Aliati gasped. “All gone?” She hadn’t seen the northwest. Only the south.

  I let it sink in. All gone. So much loss.

  The moment of greeting, of seeing familiar faces, shredded into sounds of grief. Even as more approached, word spread about the towers. Ceetcee and Beliak joined us to listen. Tears ran down their cheeks.

  Moc approached. My nephew. Safe. Who else was? No one had told me yet.

  But they were safe. The midcloud was safer than the towers. “We need to bring as many as we can to safety.” If Moc and Ceetcee were here, unharmed, I was willing to trust Aliati on the blackwings. For now.

  “But we’ll not be here for very long,” Moc said, patting me on the arm. “We’re readying to leave.”

  Why would they come back up above the clouds when this meadow is already safer than the towers above? “I don’t understand,” I said.

  In answer, they led me inside one of the towers, towards an alcove that glowed blue with littlemouths, and I understood even less.

  At the alcove’s threshold, a frail older woman spoke softly to a barefoot man in a ragged hunter cloak, his back turned to me. “Up is safer,” she said. Her voice was calm, quiet. A voice I knew. “Djonn’s artifexing a climber to take us back above the clouds.”

  “You don’t understand,” the young man said. “We have to go somewhere safer. We don’t have long at all.”

  Moc had said a similar thing.

  “Where would we go? Lower than here? How will your daughter make the trip?” the old woman said. She touched his arm gently. I coughed, and her pale face turned towards me. Elna. The young man turned too. His face was scarred and filthy, but I knew those eyes, that stubborn chin.

  “Nat! Elna!” Aliati had helped me find them, after so much time. She’d made good on her bargain. I could return and help the people above with the knowledge. “What has happened? Do you know why the city roared?”

  They turned to me, faces tense.

  “It’s dying,” Nat said, as if he’d said it many times, and as if he never wished to say these words again. “If not already dead. We have ten days, or less, to flee.”

  * * *

  We gathered in the alcove where littlemouths nested. Brass plates engraved with artifex schematics from long ago lined the walls of this space, holding open a gap of bone as the tower grew.

  The resulting cave had become a refuge for the skymouths’ younger cousins long ago. It was a good place to plan. It was beautiful. I wished Sidra were with me to see it. And to help me phrase my questions. I had so many questions about it, about everything.

  Nat had pulled me aside to tell me news of my brother. “He lives. He is searching for a new home for us, with Kirit.” He’d described the city to me also, and how it was dying. For that, I was grateful, but I wanted to know much more. After. I knew the important thing about Wik: that he was alive, or had been the last time Nat and Ciel had seen him. The rest would wait until I knew how to best save the city above.

  Now I sat next to Nat and Ceetcee, while Moc and Aliati helped Djonn lower himself stiffly to the floor. The artifex was in pain, that was clear.

  While everyone arrived, Ciel began to hum.

  All around us, littlemouths glowed, first soft, then bright. The room’s walls gleamed with brass.

  It took me a moment to realize Ciel hummed The Rise. A moment of jarring recognition: the melody was the same for tower as it was for Singers, but the words were different. I’d learned both versions, had loved both versions. Hearing it stripped down to notes made me love the heart of it even more. The song that my mother had sung to me and to Wik to calm us. The song that our ancestors had used to tell their history.

  “How will we tell everyone?” Ceetcee spoke first. The baby slept in a sling on her back, backlit by littlemouth light. Ceetcee crossed her arms and swayed side to side, gently. “We can’t leave people up there. Not a single one.”

  The cave quieted until we could hear rain spatter the lichen and ferns in the meadow just outside: fat drops on tiny leaves. Someone in the meadow cursed. Several blackwings who had once attacked the midcloud were camped outside. Aliati had taken their wings, rather than risk them revealing the cave’s location to the clouds above. She still had my weapons too.

  “Would those above save us?” Djonn asked after a long stretch. He didn’t look at me.

  Ceetcee turned and looked him full in the eyes, then looked at me. “I would if I were them,” she said.

  Beliak shifted his feet as if he were caught between two opposing gusts. Elna coughed softly into her hand.

  I breathed deep. Smoke from the cookfire in the larger cave and the greenery’s thick scent and mist in the meadow outside wove their way into this alcove.

  So many remained above.

  Nat spoke first. “How do you propose we get them all down? There aren’t nearly enough of us, and we’re Lawsbreakers above the clouds. We’ll be thrown right down again. The rest of the city can wait until you all are safe.”

  The group was quiet.

  I grappled with anger, with frustration. “Those are people you’re talking about. You cannot leave them.”

  Djonn looked at me from where he lay on the cave floor. He looked at Nat too. Instead of answering, he began to draw on the bone with a piece of charcoal. “We’ve been building climbers, and more propellers for controlling the wind,” he said. “So that Elna, Ceetcee, the baby, and I wouldn’t have to be carried up in nets.” His sketch showed a basket ringed by eight articulated legs. “They’re tipped with metal, like grips.”

  The basket looked as if it could carry five. “We’ll need more than that for our group. Especially if Ceetcee wants to include the blackwings in the meadow.”

  “The climber is meant to go up,” Beliak said.

  Ciel, still humming, studied the design. She’d helped Djonn build tools and weapons before we fell through the clouds. “It will have to be modified. And we can build more of them.” When she stopped humming, the littlemouths took a long time to dim.

  “In ten days?” Nat sounded doubtful.

  My frustration simmered. “There are people above who can help.” I wanted him to hear that phrase: There are people above.

  “If we have more help, we can build a lot of things,” Elna said. She smiled in my direction.

  “We need something,” Ciel agreed. “We can’t exactly ride a skymouth out of here, or a bone eater. We need a way to carry a lot of people, or lower them down safely.” She was talking about more than just the midcloud cave’s population, I could tell. Hope wrestled with my anger. Ciel looked at me and began humming The Rise again.

  Littlemouths brightened the cave.

  “How will you convince the city?” I said. I was compelled to get moving. I knew there would be factions who could not believe what Nat had said. I barely believed it.

  Nat tossed a piece of bone in the air and caught it. “We’d have to get the blackwings to help us.” He made it sound difficult. Impossible. He was trying to sway the group towards an easier decision.

  But Beliak peered at the brass plates. “That could be a good idea.”

  Nat stifled a groan. “One that’s impossible.”

  Next to the climber sketch, Djonn drew a box kite on the bone floor of the alcove that had been a refuge for them while the towers above hunted them. I tried to understand their reluctance, but now that I knew, I wanted them to agree immediately to help the towers too.

  Djonn said slowly, “Not impossible. This is a fairly sturdy structure, and quick to build, if we can make it big enough.” He added an inner frame and basket, then he and Ciel began to draw even more elaborate kites and mechanicals than the ones outside, many buoyed by lighter-than-air.

  “Do you have lighter-than-air?” Nat asked. “If you don’t, this is just another delay.”

  “We have a little. We might be able to ask a scavenger to find us more,” Djonn replied, a shy grin crossing his face. Aliati. Of course.

  “We have
sources too,” I said quickly. It wasn’t far from the truth.

  Djonn continued to draw. Tiers of kites, bound together in wings supported by lighter-than-air. Pulleys and lowering cables that could be secured on climbing spiders or on towers. Nets of all kinds, for catching, rescue. Things we could build out of what we had, in as much time as we had.

  “We’ll lower the kites with pulleys, for as long as we can,” Djonn added. “Once we’re at the end of the tethers, the lighter-than-air should help as well. The gas seems to get stronger the lower it goes.”

  Our means of escape took shape on the bone floor. “But you’ll still need more help to build these,” I said. “Otherwise, there won’t be enough time to get the plinths prepared to support everyone, much less to be lowered. And I don’t think we have enough lighter-than-air to float an entire city.”

  Elna eased herself to the floor where we spoke, tears on her face. Nat must have told her the news about the towers. “When will the city sing Remembrances?”

  “We sang at Allsuns two days ago,” I said. “We gathered, then began making plans to build floating platforms for the survivors near the remaining towers. But I wanted to make sure the bone cores were untroubled below the clouds. So Aliati brought me here.”

  “Well then, now is the time to ready yourselves,” she said. “To say good-bye to the city.”

  Nat bowed his head, and Ceetcee nodded. As in the past, especially in city council, Elna’s words had helped shift the argument.

  I knelt then, in gratitude, near Elna, and pulled a stone fruit from my pocket.

  Nat’s face, beside her, transformed. “I haven’t seen anything like it in moons.”

  The fruit was bruised and mashed, but everyone stared at it. Elna brushed the stone fruit’s fuzzy skin with her fingers.

  “Your news has crushed my appetite,” Elna said.

  I continued to hold the fruit out. “I know. I wish I didn’t have such news.”

  She took the fruit from me and took a tiny bite out of courtesy.

  The juice ran down her chin. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then she made Nat pass the fruit to everyone else, and they all had a taste, or cut a slice for later, right down to the stone.

  “Now you’ve found us.” Moc appeared from the shadows to take the stone fruit pit from my hand. “Thanks to Aliati. What if you led more blackwings here?”

  Aliati growled at Moc, but then smiled sadly. “They did not follow us. I’m lucky he found me. I think he’s trustworthy enough.”

  “So no one else is following you?” Nat asked, leaning forward, still chewing.

  I shook my head. “The blackwings are busy planning Conclaves and fighting over space on the towers. Everyone’s uneasy.” I fought back my own rising unease. “Finding answers to what happened will help.”

  “Until there’s another quake,” Ceetcee whispered.

  Clearing his throat, Nat said, “It will. And this time, the city will fall.”

  My eyes widened at the harsh words, and my hands balled into fists. “That’s not possible. Not again.” I couldn’t stop hearing the sounds of my city falling apart.

  Nat didn’t answer. He reached into his robe and held out a handful of something. It was reddish brown and unlike anything I’d ever seen. “I grabbed this when we were building our packs from the wreckage. It’s possible. I wish I’d brought more than a handful of dirt with me.”

  We peered at the handful of ground. The heft of his proof strengthened the rest of his argument.

  “Nat.” Beliak elbowed him. “Tell Macal everything you know. Tell Aliati.”

  As Nat spoke about the cities once more, with Ciel chiming in, I felt worse, like I was in a nightmare. I stood up, pacing around the alcove, nearly tripping over Elna.

  “Careful!” Ceetcee and Nat said at the same time. How could I be so clumsy? Me, the Magister who’d pulled Nat from a fall into the clouds during his wingtest. A councilor. The leader of a tower, was now trying to find my way in a dim cave, in the clouds.

  From Nat’s expression, it looked as if he was having the same thoughts. He, the overconfident wingtester with all the answers. He’d been so sure of everything then: his skill, his strength, the city, the wind. Allmoons later, he was still determined. This was not going to be easy, by any measure.

  “My apologies.” I bowed to Elna. “This is a lot to take in.”

  “For all of us,” Elna said. “I am glad you came, Magister.” She held out a thin hand to me, still sticky with stone fruit juice, and I grasped it. “We can do this. We’ll save as much of the city as possible.”

  Aliati leaned on Djonn’s shoulder, and he on hers, each supporting the other. Despite his delight earlier, the artifex looked exhausted. His brace, which I could see parts of now, fit him so poorly, chafe marks were visible beneath his robe when he moved.

  Even so, Djonn spoke for me. “Macal’s right, there isn’t enough lighter-than-air here to float the city. Even with the storage above. We need a different strategy. And more hands to do the work.”

  In this way, we talked through the night.

  “We’ll need food,” Beliak said. “To support everyone who comes down. There’s barely enough food within reach to sustain the eight of us, plus the guards. You can’t bring more people here without bringing food for them. And you can’t bring them to the meadow, or to the first tower and the cave here. We can’t support it.”

  “Where do you suggest we take them? The Spire is unstable,” Nat said.

  This part of the evacuation was something I hadn’t yet thought about. I had been more focused on getting people down.

  “We can use hang-sacks off of the nearby towers, and plinths for shelter. It won’t be pleasant, but those who can’t fit into a cave will have to rough it for a few days until we’re ready to move again. If…” I stopped before I said what I was thinking.

  If we move fast enough.

  The baby wailed, and Ceetcee began feeding her. Beliak, Nat, and Aliati walked outside to try to find room for the tower populations.

  The baby’s eyes squeezed shut, and her hands curled to tiny fists. Only a few days old, very small, with a thready cry that set nerves on edge. After a long moment, Ceetcee gave up trying to nurse. She sighed in frustration.

  “Too quick,” Elna muttered, but didn’t push. “It’s harder down here.” The baby’s wails echoed against the cave walls as Ceetcee let out another sigh. She began to whisper to the infant: nonsense words that sounded like the wind. The child calmed and slept against her chest, and she walked over to me, swaying slightly.

  She’d never been one of my flight students, but I remembered her from wingtest. I’d seen her frequently in the air after she moved to Densira. She’d flown with shy grace, making room for others, taking care not to foul anyone’s wind. And she’d become a bridge artifex when many had failed the training.

  Now Ceetcee looked like the very air weighed her down. But she hadn’t hesitated to wrap the child to her chest and head into the meadow to help Djonn make tools. She was heading out to do it again now. As she passed me, she asked, “What did the quake feel like?”

  “Like the world rolled beneath us. The cracking was the worst part. You?”

  Ceetcee sighed. “We were distracted. But I remember hearing loud crashes, and when I went out to the meadow a few days ago, I saw that pieces of bone had fallen from the Spire and broken against the other towers.”

  I reached out to touch the infant’s head. “You’ve survived so much already down here.” I wished I could take them home, back up to the towers. To Densira, which was no longer there. Or to Mondarath. To help give the child a name and a home.

  Ceetcee pressed her lips together. “Elna helped me through the worst of it. She knew what to do.”

  Elna often did know exactly what to do. But down here? Without healers to help? “It was very brave.”

  That made Ceetcee laugh, which caught me by surprise. “What else was there to do? We’d been chased below the clouds. I c
ouldn’t fly any longer.” Her chin lifted a fraction then. “Djonn’s climber took a little longer than he planned. He’s still working on it. And we were waiting for Nat to return.” She smiled at him. “And he did. Now we can all fly down together.”

  I thought Nat would smile at her words, but instead he paled and swallowed. “You shouldn’t have waited for me. I took too long,” he finally said.

  I heard that strange halt to his words again. He was holding back something. I added that to my worries, and gave the grip I was carving another whack with the knife. The blade, a now-rare skymouth tooth, shaved bone away from one of the points, making it sharp enough to dig bone blade into bone tower.

  * * *

  When we returned to the front cave, Beliak took the large gryphon bladder off the tri-stand spread above the fire. Opened it and let the steam run out. I smelled a strange scent.

  Nat groaned. “I thought I’d never miss lichen.”

  I staunched my irritation. The food had been gathered and prepared for us. Above the clouds, we’d hungered for greens, for fruit. But the green vegetation looked much less appealing than the bruised stone fruit, and, after this discussion, I wasn’t sure I wanted food either.

  “We need to eat, no matter what. I’ve improved the recipe,” Beliak said, winking at me and Nat both. His enthusiasm made me wary.

  I found a bone bowl and scooped myself some after the others had taken their share. I was starving. The sliver of stone fruit had shaken my appetite, despite my worries. As I chewed, I thought over the losses above, and how to keep from losing more. The problem below. “We can’t wait for the towers to work out who goes and who stays, or whether to go at all. There’s not enough time.”

  Nat had been right before, despite himself. We needed the blackwings.

  “Going down would be easier in small groups in the climbers, and the kites,” Ciel suggested. I remembered the uncertainty of my descent into the clouds and shivered, despite the warmth from the fire.

  The others shook their heads. “I agree with what Nat said earlier. We should go down now,” Moc said. “We can send Maalik back up with messages. Let them decide to make the journey and follow us as best they can.” My nephew paused. “Where is your whipperling?”