Kail nodded and let himself sink back onto his cot. He was determined to be well enough, but knew that determination alone wasn't enough. A whole raft of factors had to come together before he could take anything like that for granted.
“Just one more thing,” Marmion said before he left the common room. “Whatever happens tomorrow, don't go behind my back again. Is that understood? For all our differences of opinion, we're supposed to be on the same side. We're not rivals. Even if you disagree with me, do me the courtesy of keeping me informed.”
Kail nodded in the gloom. That appeared to satisfy Marmion, even though it barely qualified as an answer.
When he was alone, Kail closed his eyes and tried to sleep. But his thoughts kept returning to the Homunculus and where it might be at that moment. His promise to the twins had been simple: I'll guide you across the plains to the mountains and keep you out of trouble. In that he had failed quite comprehensively. He had been unable to protect them from the forces, old and new, that were stirring in the world, and they had ended up saving him instead. But the fact remained: he had made a promise, one he was unlikely to keep.
We must understand each other, the twins had told him after the flood, or all will end in disaster.
With Marmion, at least, he hoped it wasn't too late.
“Following your heart is easier said than done.
First you have to find it, and that can be a long
and fraught journey in itself.”
THE BOOK OF TOWERS, EXEGESIS 4:20
Skender woke from a dream of earthquakes to the sensation of someone shaking his shoulders.
“You're snoring. Snap out of it before you wake everyone up.”
He stared up into Chu's face, only gradually piecing his thoughts together. “What?”
Satisfied that she had roused him, she stopped shaking. “Come on. We have work to do.”
“What work?”
“Real work. Not the boring crap Heuve keeps giving me. Something useful. Something I'm good at.”
“Why now?” His head felt as heavy as a boulder when he tried to sit. The room was still dark and the forest outside the windows was redolent with night noises.
“Because it needs to be done. Get up.” She grabbed his right hand and physically pulled him out of bed. “Why do I always have to bully you into doing things with me? I'm starting to think you're not even interested.”
He tugged his black robe over his head to stop himself from saying The feeling is mutual, figuring that particular statement was rhetorical. He had tried to talk to her the previous night, but she had begged off again, saying there were too many people around.
“Where are we going? If you're thinking of sneaking past the guards—”
“Not the way you think, although I did consider it. They're too thorough, too suspicious, and everywhere all through the city. If we so much as look out the door, they'll see us.”
“So how—?”
She shushed him and led him through the visitors' compound, finding her way with confidence to the common room where Kail slept with his mouth open, breathing deeply. There she directed Skender to take one end of her wing. Silently, they lifted it and carried it out into the corridor.
“Now what?” he started to ask, still not seeing what use it would be if they couldn't get out of the compound.
She shook her head and pointed upwards.
In the ceiling above their heads was a hatch.
He knew, then, what she had planned, but he was still none the wiser about why.
“Are we running away?” he hissed as she positioned a chair underneath the hatch.
“That wouldn't be very helpful,” she said, climbing onto the chair and reaching up to pop the hatch. It opened without a sound, revealing, not a crawl space or attic, but open air and leaves. The foresters didn't need insulation, thanks to the canopy surrounding them. And in a culture that didn't employ flight, why would they consider the possibility of someone escaping upwards?
Chu hoisted herself up into the night air, then reached back down for the wing. Skender lifted one end up to her, and she silently hauled it outside. Then he climbed out and shut the hatch behind them.
The foggy night air sucked sensation from his fingertips almost immediately. Together, taking great care to avoid sharp twigs, they unfolded the wing and laid it flat against the roof. Reaching into the pocket of her leather pants, Chu produced her licence, which she plastered to the skin below her throat. Within seconds, the geometric lines of the charm began spreading across her skin. She blinked, and her eyes turned from brown to black.
“Are you going to tell me where we're going?” he whispered.
She shook her head, pointing over the edge of the roof to where the guards paced. He resigned himself to committing completely to her plan without knowing anything at all about it.
Chu strapped in first, then attached him in front of her. His body welcomed the warmth of hers, but he warned himself not to get too comfortable. They weren't about to resolve any issues by jumping from the summit of a heavily wooded cliff face bristling with archers and guards. This was about as far from romantic as they could get.
“Okay,” she said, “here's what I think. We jump to get clear of the trees, then we go down to pick up speed. Once we're moving quickly enough, we zip away out of range. From there on, it's easy.”
“Let me get this straight,” he said, wishing he could see her properly. “We're going to go down as fast as we can through impenetrable fog while worrying about arrows?”
“That's right. Good to see you're keeping up.”
He took a deep breath. “I'm glad it gets easier after that point. Otherwise I'd be worried.”
“What's there to worry about? You've been down there. You've been noticing the landscape, even if you weren't aware of yourself doing it. With the wind on my side plus your memory to back me up, I figure we've got an even chance.”
“Of what? Getting out of this alive?”
“Of finding the Panic city, of course. Now shut up and let's do this.”
“Why—?” Her hand over his mouth reinforced the order. Giving in for the moment, he helped her manoeuvre the wing into position. They would need a run-up to reach clear space, and the way their legs tangled while merely walking didn't bode well.
“Let me do it,” he whispered after one slip almost sent them crashing through the roof. “I'm at the front. It's the only way.”
“But you're so weedy.”
“My legs work fine, thanks, and I only have to carry you for a second or two. It's not as if you're particularly hefty yourself.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“You want me to give you compliments? Get me out of this alive and I guarantee as many as you want.”
She capitulated, lifting her knees and crossing her ankles around his waist. He leaned forward, shifting their combined centre of gravity into a more stable position. They wobbled for a moment, but stayed upright.
He flicked through his memory, seeking camouflage charms that might hide them from view during their launch.
“Now, if we time it just right…” Her voice in his ear held him poised and ready. Partially visible over the line of the roof ahead of them was a sentry, going about his usual patrol. When he was well past, she hissed, “Go!”
He gritted his teeth and pushed off with his right leg. Their combined weight, plus that of the wing, was considerable but not immoveable. All he had to do was pick up speed and then fall forward.
One step, two steps. He tried to keep the noise to a minimum. Three steps, four steps. The edge of the roof was before him. Five steps—
With a grunt, he hurled them out into the air.
Chu instantly took over, tipping the right corner of the wing up so the full face of it caught what little breeze there was. With a snap, the fabric filled with air and their downward plummet eased, becoming a downward glide instead. Skender glanced behind him to see if the guard had noticed, but everything had happened so quickly that
the visitors' compound was already out of sight.
Leaves and branches flashed by at disturbingly close range. Just one could tear the wing and send them to their deaths. He wanted to close his eyes, but didn't dare.
The steep flank of the ridge on which the city had been built seemed to follow them as the wing's path curved outwards. Chu grunted, exerting all her strength to force the wing away from the vertical. Wind and fog whipped at them, illuminated by the city lights.
Then suddenly all was dark. The sound of leaves rushing by vanished. Skender didn't know what had happened for a heartbeat or two—and then realised that they had flown down past the base of the city and into the Versegi Chasm. He wondered how close they had come to crashing into the rope bridge crossing it—then told himself to be grateful for small mercies. At least now they didn't have to worry about being seen or shot at. There were only the Chasm's walls to watch out for.
“You can see okay?” he asked Chu, knowing that the licence charm saw the wind via means other than light.
“Well enough, but I'm keen to get us out of here.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“The air is marginally warmer down here. It'll give us altitude, eventually.”
The wing banked and followed a wide spiral upwards. “While we're doing that, you can explain why on Earth we're going after the Panic city. Are you determined to get us both killed?”
“No more than usual. It just occurred to me last night that I joined this mission for a reason. I'm the scout, right? So why don't I do my job? Instead of waiting around to hear from Highson or Rosevear—on whose word this entire plan of Marmion's depends—it would be better to know in advance if the city is heading our way.”
“That makes sense,” he conceded. “Why not tell people what you had in mind? Why all this skulking around?”
“I can't imagine Marmion giving us permission,” she said. “Let alone Heuve. The foresters don't like flyers and they certainly don't like me. I bet they won't turn down the intelligence we can offer, though, if we just go ahead and get it.”
“So you dragged me along for my memory.”
“Partly, but don't sound so disgruntled. It's also for your company.”
He took some comfort from that as the wing kept turning clockwise, rising higher with each full circuit. His cheeks were numb with cold, and his eyes could see little in the darkness of the Chasm.
Several distant points of light gleamed in the murky depths. “Do you think the Eminent Delfine was right about people living down here? I think I can see torches. Real torches, not those brand things the foresters use.”
Chu shrugged: unimportant. “Let me know if you hear anything from Marmion and co. I don't want our escape to cause a huge fuss.”
“Not a thing so far,” he said. “We might actually have got away with it.”
“I told you they wouldn't think of looking up…” The smugness in her tone revealed more than just satisfaction at her plan having worked.
“What's going on, Chu? This isn't just about looking for the city, is it?”
“Of course not. Those pompous shits need to be taught a lesson or two. Flying may not be their thing, but that doesn't give them the right to look down on those who love it. It doesn't harm anyone and it's actually rather useful.”
“You'd risk an arrow in your back—in our backs—to prove a point?”
“I think it's a pretty important point. Don't you?”
Skender didn't want to disagree. “There might be safer ways to make it.”
Chu didn't say anything for a while. He couldn't tell if she was angry at him or just thinking. He decided that the safest course was to wait it out.
“Shilly said something last night,” she eventually told him. “Why did my family move to Laure? Because people there have a reason to fly and there's no argument about the point of it. They weren't kicked out of the forest because of something they did; they didn't leave the forest because they didn't like it. They simply didn't fit in. I shouldn't be punished for that.”
“So…what? You're going to reverse centuries of tradition by proving how useful you are? Is that your plan?”
“No, I'm just going to piss them off even more.” He felt her indignation evaporate. “I know this probably isn't going to change anything, but I still need to do it, for my own sake. I'm a flyer. They need to see me as I am, not as an Outcast. If they still won't accept me, then that's their problem, not mine.”
Skender knew it wouldn't be so easy. It was her problem. She had been dreaming about the Hanging Mountains all her life. To have that dream thrown back at her was a hard thing.
“Is that another reason to go looking for the city—because they're the flyers you've been looking for?”
“Oh, I'm not planning to get so close,” she said. “And landing is out. Jao seems nice enough, but I don't think being human is going to count much in my favour at the moment.”
“Or mine.”
“Well, at least we've still got each other. Eh, Galeus?”
He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her smiling. As the wing took one final turn around its imaginary corkscrew and ascended out of Versegi Chasm, he decided that, even though they were back where they had started, that was definitely an improvement.
They flew for an hour, following terrain that he remembered and which she had noted from the ground in the previous three days. They didn't run into any mountains or cities. It was, in fact, rather boring, and Skender had to fight the urge to nod off on several occasions. There was no way to tell the time. Dawn showed no sign of coming, leaving the sky uniformly dull and dark.
“Do you have any idea where this city might be?”…after their third traverse of a particular valley.
“Not in the slightest. I expect we'll run into someone who does, soon enough, if the Panic are indeed on the move.”
“That's your plan? To bump into a Panic patrol and have them lead us home? They're more likely to shoot us out of the sky.”
“No way. They're big and slow. We're small and fast. And I bet you anything they're so accustomed to aiming at targets on the ground that they won't look up either.”
“I think,” he said, “you're already betting everything on that.”
“I was being metaphorical.”
“I'm not,” he said.
“Why are you always so gloomy? You should be glad. Here we are, out getting some fresh air while that stuffy lot back there does nothing but sleep.”
“Sleep has its appeal.”
“Not as far as I can see.” She banked to avoid a landmark he could barely make out through the fog. “When I think about all those hours wasted when I could've been—”
He never found out what she could've been doing, for at that moment a broad, rounded shape appeared out of the mist directly ahead of them.
“Whoa!” Chu wrenched the nose of the wing up, taking them over the balloon with barely centimetres to spare. Skender could have reached out and touched its leathery skin, it was so close.
“Do you think they saw us?”
He didn't know how to answer that. For a moment he couldn't even talk. “I've no idea.” He heard no cries of alarm from the vessel they had just flown by. It had already vanished into the mist behind them. “Crashing into them is certainly going to attract someone's attention.”
“Don't worry. It's not going to happen again.” Skender's limbs grew heavy as she took them upwards. “Here's another bet. They've been flying a long time as a group, and have fixed ways of getting around. Familiar altitudes, usual flight paths, traditional formations. If we steer clear of those routes, we're not going to hit anyone.”
“How many other bets are you planning to make tonight?”
“I don't know,” she said, “but if you don't take a chance, you'll never get lucky.”
She looped back over the Panic ship they had passed, wing slipping smoothly through the cool night air. The balloon—a fat sausage shape that looked like thr
ee dark grey spheres squashed together in some kind of net—supported a long, bladelike gondola containing seven Panic soldiers. Skender held his breath as they flew over it, even though he knew any sound quieter than a shout had no chance of being heard through the fog.
Chu took note of which way the balloon was pointing, and changed their course to follow it.
“See?” she said. “Easy.”
“We're not there yet. If you can find the city without splatting us like a bug against it, then I'll say you've won the bet.”
“What will I win?”
“The chance to live a little longer,” he said. “Isn't that enough?”
“There's more to life than just living. I think so, anyway.”
“And I'd agree with you. But death is death. There's no way to dress it up as anything else. If things go badly, there goes our chance to live at all, let alone well.”
“We're not going to die.”
“You saying that doesn't make it any less likely.”
“Do you want to go back?”
He thought about it, even though there was no possibility of doing that. She was more likely to undo his harness and let him drop than try to land him back on Milang. “Actually, I don't. I just want you to cut the bullshit and be straight with me—and yourself, for that matter. We're taking a risk that could end badly. Pretending otherwise is just…well, asking for trouble. Or disappointment.”
To his surprise, she chuckled. “You know, Mage Van Haasteren, I think you have something else on your mind than our little night flight.”
He flushed. “That knife has two edges.”
“True. Too true.”
They flew in a straight line for so long that Skender wondered if Chu had fallen asleep. Acutely alert as he was, waiting for any sign at all from her, he could feel her breathing against the back of his neck but nothing more than that. When she wasn't making light of their situation, she was utterly closed to him. Yet he sensed her calling to him, hammering on the doors she had locked around herself. If she couldn't open them, how could he?
Don't stop now, he told himself. Would anyone ever get what they wanted if they turned back at the first obstacle? Would Sal have made it back to Fundelry? Would Shilly have found Lodo? Would those two ever have got together?
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