Horizon

by Fran Wilde

  I couldn’t see Maalik.

  A shout went up among some of the crew. Two southwestern hunters. “Dix Grigrit? Is it you?”

  She frowned, her broken teeth hidden, her wrecked face pale. “Who’s asking?”

  There were only two blackwings among the whole group, but the idea that she’d reconnected with any of them, that scared me more than the heights, or the propellers.

  “We flew with Dix once, at Laria. Are you she?”

  Dix’s good eye stared at them. They didn’t recognize her. She swallowed. “I flew with her too. She was smart as they come.”

  The blackwings shrugged, even as the other crew muttered about Dix. “Figured you were too old to be Dix,” one said.

  “Not really,” she answered. She was about to say more, but the kite’s tether loosened and began to slap the air near us. She ducked low.

  I scrambled after the tether lines, skidding on the rocks and tearing my footwraps. One of the blackwings joined me in the chase. The box kite hung in the air above us, its lighter-than-air balloons drifting behind. Its silk spans billowing in the breeze. Its crew looked up at it, then at the ridge, then at us.

  The healer from Varat, who’d finished bandaging the young boy’s foot, joined me in chasing down the kite tethers. Dix did the same.

  Once we’d caught all the tethers and managed to wedge several of them under rocks, I built up a cairn with loose stones from the ridge.

  Dix brought me a piece of graincake and then handed Maalik to me. The bird nestled happily in my robe while I stared at Dix’s retreating form. Whispered, “Thank you.”

  She paused, then kept walking down the ridgeline.

  Meantime, the blackwings pitched in, unaware of the exchange. Soon we had a fairly tall pile of anchors built up beneath the kite. And as the evening wore on, the kite rose in the air, lifted high on a proper breeze.

  Oh clouds, a strong breeze—moving soft across my cheeks.

  A whisper of wind in my ears.

  I lifted my arms to catch it, and the wind slipped through my fingers like spidersilk. There wasn’t enough strong air this low to lift me.

  No wind, no ride.

  I let the breeze trail across my fingertips and flap the edge of silk on my wings. Overhead, out of reach, the breeze filled the silk of the kite.

  And beyond it, I saw the second kite’s wide spans, coming closer.

  34

  NAT, BELOW

  And friends gather to bid a love good-bye

  At the edge of the bonefall, near where Ciel and Moc had disappeared, I heard a noise. Sidra knelt there, beside a figure wrapped in silk.

  She dug at the packed dirt with her fingers—raw and bloody—and a bone hook.

  I didn’t know what to say to her. We’d never really been able to talk. She’d teased me once, long ago, but I hadn’t known how to respond. Later, I’d felt awkward about what Macal might say to her about me: that I always flew too high, too fast.

  In the midcloud, she and I had worked side by side to rig the kites and the climbers, but there’d been no time for true conversation. How could I dare speak to her loss? Interrupt her mourning?

  More footsteps on the bonefall. Wik, walking quickly.

  Rya’s guard stood a little ways away, out of earshot. When the former Singer approached, the guard let him pass.

  Sidra didn’t look up. Wik knelt. Reached out to touch her shoulder. Hesitated.

  In her grief, she reached up and clasped his hand. They grieved in silence.

  My choices were all bad. I coughed, hoping it would be enough. It wasn’t. “Sidra,” I finally said, as softly as I could. “I’m so sorry.”

  She looked up at me, her robes torn and hair snarled. Her eyes were unfocused at first, but then they drew down on me, two arrows that pierced straight through me. “You brought this to us. He wasn’t supposed to be a hero of the city. He wasn’t supposed to die.”

  She put a hand on the dead Magister’s chest. “And I won’t let them have him. They aren’t going to train a new city by using Macal as bait.”

  “Who would suggest such a thing?” I was astounded. For Sidra to carry Macal’s body out here by herself meant rumors were flying.

  “There’s been talk,” Wik said. “I’ve heard it.” His voice cracked. He did not let go of Sidra’s hand.

  I’d heard murmurs too: that the egg had moved, that it was about to crack. But nothing like what this implied. I looked back at the impassive guard. They hadn’t heard us.

  Sidra didn’t answer my question either. She released Wik’s hand and dug at the ground with the bone hook. “Macal and I fought before he went into the clouds. Before he left to see what was wrong with the city. I wanted him to lead, but I didn’t want him to be a hero. I wanted him to be honorable. I wanted so many things for him. I didn’t see what he was. Who he was. I got so caught up in supporting the idea of him that I didn’t see him. Or me.”

  She began digging again, her face wet with tears.

  Wik touched his brother’s forehead.

  I heard the resonance in her words. “Sidra. Wik. I promise you. I’ll live up to Macal’s trust. I’ll be better than I’ve ever been, for the sake of the city. For Macal. For all of us.”

  I would not let the people of the city tear themselves apart. Not while I lived and could make a difference.

  Far from the rest of the city, Wik and I helped Sidra bury Macal.

  35

  KIRIT, BELOW

  Stowaways steer by a different star

  I chased the wobbling second kite. I didn’t hesitate.

  Whatever I found inside when I caught the glider, I would deal with it. I would not turn away.

  The second kite drifted erratically, then regained control once more.

  That made the kite easier to catch, but it was troubling. Was anyone steering?

  I drew close enough to spot the kite’s tether, tangled and dangling out of reach. I jumped for it, landing painfully, but holding the spidersilk line. “Got you,” I whispered.

  Liope helped me drag the line to the ground and pile stones over the tether as an anchor. I climbed up the stones, wincing. My leg felt as if it were made of fire.

  I’d look after it later.

  When I pulled myself over the side of the kite, I found three figures huddled together against the cold, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. Asleep or unconscious? It was difficult to tell in the dark. Two shivered; the third, sleeping between them, felt too warm to the touch, even in threadbare robes.

  Up this high, the gentle sway of the basket occasionally gave way to the pitch of the kite bucking against the wind as it fought the tether. I hoped Liope was paying attention, watching for me.

  “Hello,” I called, shaking them. Strewn clothes and belongings traced the kite’s path across the ground. They’d been jettisoning things? Trying to go back up?

  The nearest sleeper raised her head. Looked at me groggily. I gasped. “Aliati!” Hope buoyed me.

  “Kirit?” She blinked and wariness took over her gaze. “Where are we? I thought we’d floated out over the water. I thought we were dead.”

  “You’re over a ridge overlooking more water than I’ve ever seen, but you’re safe. You’re at the edge of a desert, where the giant cities graze on—” I searched for a word to explain what we’d seen in the desert. “They’re like skymouths, but in the ground. And the cities fight each other.” It sounded like a child’s story. A scary one. Aliati blinked again, confused. I tried again, simplifying what they needed to know: “You’re in a kite. It’s still aloft, and I’ve got it tethered. Safe. For now.”

  Aliati rose and walked unsteadily on the kite’s surface. She brushed the other sleeper’s shoulder. “Raq, wake up.”

  The woman lifted her head. Her shirt was streaked with vomit. She looked miserable. With all the movement, the third passenger moaned too. Djonn.

  Still alive. But barely. Burning with fever.

  What were they doing here? “You ma
de it off the city! How did you drift so far?”

  Aliati smiled. “We stole Djonn, before the city and the blackwings worked him to death, before he worked himself to death.”

  “What do you mean, steal?” I didn’t think I’d heard her correctly.

  Raq laughed. “We scavenged him. We cut the tether lines, and the kite floated away, as it was supposed to.”

  Aliati frowned. “But we’d miscalculated. The kite went too high too fast, then down too fast. We couldn’t control it. Had a hard time steering at the lower altitude. The changes made us ill. And then Djonn didn’t get better.”

  Raq looked at Aliati, then Djonn. “He’s not been able to eat, and even a few sips of water make him cough like he’s drowning in it.”

  “Will he die?” If they’d stayed with the city, this might not have happened.

  “He might,” Aliati said. “He’s been ready for a while now. He wanted to see the ground first.”

  Now I knew why no one had chased this kite. No one knew it was gone. “The city needed Djonn; Nat and Ciel needed his knowledge. And you stole him?” Something must have spooked them badly. Clouds. “What made you take an entire kite barely filled?” I couldn’t stifle my anger. From what I’d seen, so many could have come down in this kite.

  “The kite was full. With scavengers, because the city had already gone back on a promise. Scavengers decide when to get off on their own, and that’s just what happened. They’ve scattered. They’ll be all right. Or they won’t. It’s their choice. And Djonn already had trained six more artifexes in how the kites worked. He needed to rest,” Raq said.

  I sputtered. Scavengers didn’t know a thing about surviving on the ground. “There are predators out there. Things they can’t see! Other cities!” What if the scavengers found Varat? The treasures there?

  “It’s true. We left without permission, from you or anybody.” Aliati’s chin tilted, and she smiled defiance at me. Raq came up beside her, and her smile mirrored Aliati’s. “It’s what we do.”

  “The scavengers have to come back.” The groundmouths alone would get them. “I can tell them how to survive in the desert.”

  “If they want your help, I’m sure they’ll ask,” Aliati said. She held out her hand to me. “But this kite is ours. It’s not a bad view. You know you have a home here if you’d like it.”

  No time to think of a home for me yet. Not when many still needed a safe place to live. But I was curious. “How do you plan to live here?”

  Raq raised her hands to the silk. “We don’t know yet. We could hunt from here. We saw many birds. If Djonn could recover enough to help us figure out the controls, or we could find some more lighter-than-air…”

  A kite might be a strange home. Aloft, it would raise us above the hostile ground. I pushed the memory of bone towers and blue skies away. A kite was a start.

  Aliati got serious. “But first we need to find medicine for Djonn.”

  I knew one place there were healer supplies, but likely Varat had moved. They had medicine. And healers. And were now lost to us.

  But we did have one of Varat’s healers. They’d helped us. Dix still suspected them.

  Would they help us again? Had they been exiled for helping us escape? Or would they betray us once they knew more about our city?

  I brought out the last of my water and shared it with the others, thinking hard.

  Then I descended the rope, hoping I could communicate what we needed from the healer, hoping they could help.

  Halfway down the kite’s rope, my leg aching with exertion, realization hit me. Dix had stolen Maalik from me in the healer’s cell. She’d stolen artifacts. What else did she have in her robe pockets?

  Getting Dix to answer a question like that without her seeking to benefit selfishly was a lot to hope for. But I was willing to try, once more.

  We needed Djonn. The city needed him to recover. I imagined the kite city that Aliati dreamed of. I wished Djonn were awake, or Ciel and Ceetcee were here. Remembering how they’d built wonders in the caves out of silk and bone, I wanted more of their help now.

  I landed on the rocky outcrop and tested the tether. “You’re anchored!” I shouted. “You won’t blow away.” Aliati threw me another tether line just to be sure, and I locked that one under a cairn of rocks too.

  When I reached the middle of the ridge, I didn’t see Dix at first. Then a flap of black robe from a nearby cave caught my eye. I climbed up to her. “What have you found?”

  “Shelter,” she said. “And strangers.” She pointed back towards the desert.

  At first, I couldn’t see what she saw from here. Then I did. Two figures on the horizon, still far from us, walking our way.

  “Aliati!” I shouted, hoping she could hear. “What can you see?”

  Aliati waved. I saw the flash of a scope. She was looking. While we waited, I turned to Dix.

  “We need your help. I can never forgive you for what you did, but I can hope that what you will do will be better.”

  Dix chuckled. “Where did you learn this? I know it wasn’t Ezarit. I flew with Ezarit. She was all ambition. No forgiveness.”

  “She forgave. She didn’t do it often, though.”

  I didn’t tell Dix that I’d also had Elna’s example. Elna was the one who forgave. Always Elna, soothing, supporting, showing us the way. I learned ambition from Ezarit, but Elna, when I needed it, was the one who saw me through. Who forgave my crimes large and small. I hadn’t realized I’d needed her so much.

  Dix was quiet for a moment. “Maybe edges aren’t always—” She didn’t continue. She stared out over the ridge instead. “Once, I had a flock of blackwings at my call. Once I had influence. The ear of important people. I can’t lie. I want that again.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “You can’t have it. I won’t let you. Ever.”

  She didn’t look at me.

  “But you can help people. If you want.” I explained what we needed. I was ready for Dix to bargain, but she handed over the medicines in silence, then gave her satchel to Liope. I pointed to the boy they’d bandaged, and to my own leg. Then I gestured to the kite in the distance. The healer looked through the contents of Dix’s satchel, exclaiming and glaring at Dix.

  I put my hand on their arm. Pointed at the kite. “Our friends.” No reaction. I tried another word, knowing I risked getting it wrong. “Serrahun.” They slowed and nodded.

  When I pointed to the kite again, Liope stood and began climbing towards it. Serrahun wasn’t a word for a city with people on it. Not anymore at least. It was a word for home, for community.

  * * *

  Dix watched the healer go. “I don’t want to help people. Not like that one seems to. I want them to help me.” She turned to stare over the ridge again. Then she pointed at the smoke rising from vents near the water. “Notice that smell?”

  I had. It smelled like rotten eggs. But after the stink of a dying city, the scent was a minor irritant. “It’s gas?”

  Dix nodded. “The people on Varat steer their city away from it. They’re much like us, Kirit. They’re as superstitious as we are, but about different things. They couldn’t understand our wings, but they have propellers. I don’t think they actually made them. I think they collected them from elsewhere, or inherited them. From what I saw, I think they are archivists, not artifexes. I think they’re trying to learn how to artifex, but what if they do that by taking from others? How do we defend against that?”

  Her dark eyes moved from the smoke vents back to where I sat, and from there to the two tiny figures moving on the horizon. Then to the collapsed city in the distance. “Those two know where they’re going.” She smiled a gap-toothed grin. “Maybe we know them.” I saw fear in her eyes.

  “Do you want to be known?” She hadn’t wanted the kite survivors to know she lived, and so far, she’d stayed far from their camp.

  But if the approaching figures were people she’d hurt, they deserved to know.

  “I don’t know any
more,” Dix said. “It’s pretty awful, not knowing what I want.”

  I felt no pity for her. I still didn’t trust her. But hearing her words, I realized the ground had changed Dix, as much as it had changed the rest of us.

  She stood and moved into the cavern. “If I can, I’ll help figure out the source of the smell. See if we can use it. I won’t interfere.”

  I left her to it.

  Aliati called down, “I can’t tell who they are, but I think they’re ours. They are carrying wingsets.”

  I scratched a message on a piece of bone from the broken kite and attached it to Maalik’s leg. “Please fly,” I whispered, hoping the whipperling would recognize the shape of wingsets and head for them.

  Maalik stretched his wings and lifted on the ridge breeze. Instead of circling back to me, he flapped hard and turned towards the figures on the horizon. As the sun set below the cloud, the brave bird returned, exhausted and wobbling in the air, to collapse on my shoulder, trembling. The message chip tied to his claw rested on my collarbone. I stroked Maalik’s feathers flat. Then I read the brief message. There were two symbols carved into the bone: Ciel’s and Moc’s marks.

  When their figures sharpened on the horizon, I wound the propellers, reattached them to my wings and flew to greet the twins.

  * * *

  “I remember a Rya,” I said. “She was always very serious. She’s leading the blackwings?” Doran’s daughter, a blackwing leader. That hurt a little.

  “She’s good at it,” Moc said.

  Ciel rolled her eyes. “She’s learning. She’s charismatic, but she’s still learning.”

  We’d climbed into the kite, taking turns helping Aliati and Raq tend Djonn. Below us, the other kite survivors and some scavengers had regrouped around the kites. They’d set up camp on the ridge and in some of the caverns high enough on the ridge to be well out of reach of the two vents that spilled noxious smoke over the water.

  Ciel had opened her satchel and moved some of her things into the kite. She looked prepared to stay. When she began to hum, then continued to sing softly, the darkness lit with a soft blue glow.