Fran Wilde - Updraft

Rumul raised his brass cup. “Exactly. A fine Singer you make, Kirit.”

Now that the opportunity had presented itself, I resolved to connect with the towers as much as I could. Kirit Spire would do her duty for the city. The other Kirit would remember the towers and would speak for them when she was able.

Sellis continued to look at me warily. “You upset things, Kirit.” Then she swept away, as angry as she’d been when I first arrived. So much for sisterhood.

* * *

Within moments of Rumul’s decision, the slow drumbeat from below ceased. The windbeaters shut the vents, and the Gyre wind reversed. Slower this time.

When the winds had settled, singing from the lowest tiers reached my sensitive ears. I heard students’ young voices and the voices of the oldest Singers and teachers, all wafting up the everyday winds of the Spire.

Viridi approached our group, Sellis trailing behind. She spotted Moc jumping my shadow in the evening light of the Spire and shooed him away.

“You will come with me to meet the city, Sellis and Kirit Spire.” She took our hands in each of hers and drew us into one of the tier’s smaller alcoves, still in sight of the council balcony. “I keep the Spire’s records and maintain its history.”

Behind us, Rumul and several council Singers drew close in conversation. The rest of the tier cleared out as Singers returned to their duties.

I found I could make out Rumul’s low rumble if I concentrated. Viridi set candles and old carvings in a pattern on the floor. Sellis watched her, rapt. My eyes wandered on the carvings, all old city maps and numbers, while my ears traced the pattern of debate behind me. I heard bone chips click as they were passed among the council members.

“Five towers are crowded to capacity in the southwest, and three in the north cannot be managed much longer. The numbers are to hand,” one voice murmured. A long silence followed.

Another asked, “Not enough time for new tier growth?”

“It is too soon,” agreed Rumul.

“What about recruiting?” the first man asked. “We need novices in the Spire.”

Rumul muttered, “Too late for that. The growth is in the older groups.”

More muttering. Terrin’s name came up. Then the group walked away from where we sat, and their conversation faded.

Sellis elbowed me.

A response was required. Something to do with the tablets laid before me.

“Kirit, I ask you again, do you know what you see before you?”

I was able to answer honestly that I did not know all of what I saw. Viridi pointed again to the bone panels. “This is our history. The few survivors of the clouds. The loss of so much. And new knowledge.” Her fingers touched a panel showing a Singer scouring a tower-top to make it grow.

“Knowing how the city grows is a great Singer mystery. Protecting it from harm, our greatest challenge.” She put down the bone chips and pulled aside a silk hanging to reveal a small discoloration in the Spire’s wall.

I looked closely. The outer layer of bone had been cut away from the wall. It revealed a deep yellow marrow that seemed to throb.

“You cannot do this on a tower, because the outer layer of the tower’s core is much thicker than our wall,” she explained. “Even on the Spire’s lower levels, the walls are too thick to reach the city’s heart any longer. Here, though, we can show new Singers what they fight to preserve.”

The marrow was darker than the lymph that sometimes oozed from new grown bone. Viridi gestured us close. The air smelled richer here, a little like my father’s lenses.

Viridi took Sellis’s hand and held it above the marrow. “Swear, Sellis Spire, that you will guard the city before all else, even yourself.”

Sellis did not hesitate. “I so swear.” She closed her eyes and held her hand cupped in her other hand.

The voices returned behind us. I twisted my head slowly, looking for Rumul’s group. I wondered what they were planning. I could not see them, so I turned my attention back to Viridi and Sellis. Viridi gestured for my hand.

Sellis glared at me from beneath her eyelids as Viridi pulled me closer and held my hand before the city. I startled at the sensation: heat pulsed from the bonecut. The metal smell was stronger.

“Swear, Kirit Spire, that you will guard the city before all else, even yourself.”

I thought of the oaths I’d already sworn, the promises I’d made so far in order to keep living. Pull yourself together. I considered what I’d learned in the Spire. That there was good here. And sacrifice. Important work, not all of it pleasant. I thought of the city’s beauty, as only Singers know it. I pictured myself flying in Singer gray, helping maintain city order and peace. Helping the city. I wanted that. Still. Always.

I imagined flying the Gyre again and standing watch at Conclave, or, worse, escorting a cloudbound Lawsbreaker to his or her release. My hand froze in Viridi’s grip.

“Kirit!” Sellis said, teeth clenched. “Singers do not hesitate.”

We did not, it was true. “I so swear,” I said, emphasizing each word.

Finally, Viridi rose and bowed as Rumul and Wik joined us. She made no mention of my hesitation.

Sellis and I climbed to our feet. She stood first before Rumul so he could make the next mark: the oath tattoo on her left cheek. She looked unflinching into his eyes and waited for him to mark her Singer for all the towers to see. Tradition. We saw the evidence all around us. But Rumul held nothing in his hands. No ink. No brush.

“I advise you to sleep well,” he said. “You will be Nightwings. You have one final rite of initiation.”

Initiation.

At mention of it, Wik turned away, but not before I could see his grim smile.

We bowed to the Singers. Then we lifted our wrapped wings and carried them with us back to our alcoves.

On the way, Sellis tucked her wings under one arm and grabbed the tender spot on my elbow with fingers shaped like pincers. “I thought you were true, Kirit.”

I stared at her.

By my hand, my friend fell this day.

She screwed up her face and stepped forward, until her nose was less than a hand span from my own. “This day was supposed to be perfect, my birthright. I was pleased to share it with you.” Her words came from deep in her throat, thick and angry. “But you break traditions. You sat with the city bared before you, your greatest charge, and you barely listened. You had no respect.”

“I was listening.”

“And trying to overhear the council’s discussion too. You may have fooled Rumul and the others. You once fooled me. And now you think you are free to do as you like, but I will watch you, Kirit, every move. Until you reveal yourself a traitor again.”

She pushed me towards the ladders, gave me time to think while I descended. She followed me all the way to my tier, her eyes boring into the back of my neck. When I could tolerate it no longer, I turned on my heel and faced her.

“You saw what I did. That challenger was my oldest friend,” I said. “How could I hope to prove my loyalty beyond that?”

Her smile stretched thinner and wider as she thought over my words. “How indeed, if your loyalty is worth so little in the first place? You could not even keep silent.”

Her words were so loud that it felt as if the very Spire stopped and listened.

In the sudden quiet, she bowed her head. “I love the city, Kirit. And the Spire. All true Singers do. We respect it. I will sing with you tomorrow and honor the dead. But I will be watching too.”

I pulled my robes tighter around me. She turned to climb the ladder back to her tier, to await the next part of the ceremony.

“And your voice is still hideous,” she whispered over her shoulder as she climbed.