We reached Bissel, barely.
By rowing the predawn air with the windbeaters’ foils, Ciel and the other fledge managed to lessen the platform’s drag. Meantime, I flew until I felt the rig rising to my glide level, then I turned and landed on the platform, careful not to tangle the tether. I ran and leapt again, launching myself back into the air. The platform pushed back with my launch, but the fledges rowed hard against it. Leap, drag, soar, return: we moved forward like that through the clouds until ledges appeared, wide enough for us to stand on. I aimed us towards them as best I could.
A strong breeze carried me close to the tower and a stronger gust pushed me high. My wings and head broke the cloudtop. For a few glorious moments, I could see the city in the dawn light. I wanted to stay there, to breathe the cold, drier air, but I scrambled to spill air from my wings. Shouts behind me: the platform was tilting with my sudden rise.
Close to the clouds, an oil lamp hung from the lowest tier. I let myself rise on the gust, slowly, and I aimed for it. A balcony appeared near the clouds. Barely habitable. But I landed there, rolling to a stop on my belly.
Once I furled my wings and could look behind me, I rubbed my eyes. The platform was nowhere to be seen, though the tether still tugged at my waist. I shivered, chilled.
The husks, which should have been well above the cloudline by now, were gone. I yanked hard and reeled in the line, feeling the resistance.
The line ended in the fabric plinth, and small hands grabbed mine.
I pulled and dragged until Moc was on the tier, then two more fledges. The bucket of heartbone. The windbeaters’ foils. And finally, Ciel.
They turned and stared at where the platform should be. Ciel whispered, “Where did it go?”
We could see the platform’s leading edge at eye level, but not the supporting skymouth husks. Like live skymouths, these disappeared in sunlight too.
“Quick, tie it down,” I said, seeing before the others that the wind was pulling the platform away.
“It’s rising,” Ciel said.
“Let it go,” Moc said. “Let it float away.” He looked out over the sky. “It’s bad.”
It might be bad, but it was also evidence. I struggled to tie the line to the tier, but the usual bone cleats were worn away.
Above us, the tiers gradually looked deeper and less overgrown by bone core. We weren’t far from the occupied tiers. A rope dangled nearby.
“Can you climb?” I asked the twins. Both indicated they could. I let them go first, then pulled myself and the platform, bobbing beyond the tier, up after them.
“Find any tier with people. Ask for shelter.”
I hoped we’d find friendly hosts. Or at least no one hostile.
The platform dragged at my shoulder. I couldn’t keep my grip on the rope. The plinth was too big; it was pulling away from the tower and would take me with it.
It was more important to get help for Kirit, find the fledges a place to shelter, and inform the council.
Reluctantly, I cut the line around my waist and let the platform float free. Soon I could no longer see it in the clouds.
We had much to tell the council, but little proof, besides the bucket and the word of four fledges. We needed allies. Doran? He’d had little interest in the Spire’s state. Worse, he could know about Dix’s project. Ezarit? Maybe. Although she did not control the council guards.
Both of them together, if Doran wasn’t involved? That would be formidable. If I could finesse it.
Truth was, a newly elected junior councilor and apprentice getting two of the most powerful council leaders to agree on this issue was going to be as hard as flying into the wind. But I’d find a way. And then I could go home and tell my family what I’d seen.
The rope stopped shaking above me, and I hauled myself up the knotted fiber until I reached the tier where two fledges stood staring. The twins clung to a Lawsmarker-draped Singer, held tight in his Lawsmarker-bound arms.
We’d found the tier where Singers quartered. It was as low on the tower as the one Kirit stayed in on Grigrit, but not in the Spire’s shadow. Sunlight crested the cloudtop and lent a soft glow to the mist still clinging to the tier’s spare furnishings. The people inside.
I took in the length of the Singer at the balcony’s edge. Standing straight and tall beneath his cloak of Laws. More weight covered him than had the elder Singer on Grigrit, but he did not bend. Wik. He stared at Ciel and Moc with a worried look in his green eyes, the dark shadows below them purple in the brightening light. Behind him, a guard in a green cloak held a basket.
A weight gripped my left shoulder. Small talons. A beak at my earlobe. Maalik. Here?
Confused, I turned to take in the rest of the tier. Beliak waited inside the balcony. He clapped my right shoulder tight. Held on, and clasped my left hand too. He smiled, his gap-toothed grin shy and relieved, but his deep brown eyes filled with concern.
“Maalik found us at Densira. I went to meet you at the council plinth. But you didn’t arrive. You missed council. You never miss council! We sent birds to the towers you’d named, and this was the first place you were missing.” Smart. Kirit had told Ezarit she planned to visit Wik. So Ezarit must know. Others too. “We’ve been searching. Were about to set out again, at first light.”
“Ceetcee worried?”
“Won’t be when she gets your message.”
He handed me a blank bone chip on a blue silk cord, and I scratched the mark for “safe.” Then added my sigil, and Beliak’s. While I worked, a small figure rose from beside the cook fire. Tea-colored robes. A sparkle of glass beads at the hems, and in her dark braids. Clouds. Ezarit. Here.
“Where is my daughter?” she demanded. “What happened? What did you do?”
Beliak had not released my shoulder. “We thought you were cloudfood. You’ve been gone a whole day. We had to tell her.”
“Kirit was entrusted to your care.” Ezarit laid each word, distinct, heavy, on my head. I couldn’t look away from her. Couldn’t answer. Beliak took the message chip from my fingers, tied it to Maalik’s leg, and whispered, “Home,” to the whipperling. Released Maalik to the sky. But he didn’t step between me and Ezarit.
“We were trapped in the clouds,” I croaked, wishing for water. “We found—” All that we’d found piled into my dry mouth and stuck there. Between my fingers, my father’s message chip snapped in two. Entrusted to my care.
We’d found much in the clouds: Treason, the fledges, why the Spire was dying. I gripped the chip halves tightly, feeling their split edges press my palm. But what we’d lost—No, don’t think that. Nothing is truly lost until we let it go. I cleared my throat. “We’ll find Kirit. We’ll recover what the city needs, rather than allowing it to disappear.”