“She cheated her way through exams,” Luca said, smirking.
“So she’s not so smart,” Tobble said.
“Don’t ever imagine that she’s not intelligent. Intelligent, cunning, ruthless, and dangerous.” Then, in a different tone, Luca added, “And a bully.”
“You know Araktik?” Khara asked.
Luca nodded. “When I was six and she was ten, we were in the same dormitory. She once made me eat soap.”
“That must have tasted worse than wobbyk,” Gambler said.
“Hey!” Tobble protested. “I’ve had enough of that. I’ll have you know that we’re delicious!”
“Be glad my belly is full of cotchet,” Gambler said, “or I’d test your claim.”
“Wait—did I say delicious?” Tobble asked. “I meant poisonous.”
Gambler started to respond, but he suddenly froze. Tobble and I gasped.
“You hear that?” Gambler asked.
I nodded. So did Tobble.
“What?” both humans asked at once.
“Someone is coming,” Gambler said. “More than one someone.”
32.
Trapped
“You two must hide,” Luca said to Gambler and me. “We can explain our presence to the constabulary, but we can’t explain a felivet, let alone a dairne. Even if you play dog, they’ll see the truth if they examine you closely.”
I heard at least six sets of human feet pounding up the stairs. Had we been seen? Or was this just a routine security patrol?
Frantically I searched the room. Chairs, tables, mirrors, chests. Yes, a chest! Gambler considered the rafters overhead. He focused on a large crossbeam at least a dozen feet above us. He squatted, wriggled his hindquarters, and seemed to levitate straight up, landing on the beam as if he leapt like this every day of his life. And, I realized, he probably did.
I opened a dusty chest half full of decaying clothing. I rolled in and pulled the lid down just as the humans burst in.
“Here then,” a crude voice boomed. “What is this all about, eh?”
“We’re just watching the eumony.” It was Luca.
“Don’t you know this building is shut down? Who do you think you are, anyways?”
“We were just seeking some privacy.” Khara’s voice now. “Luca and I, well, our parents don’t approve, but we . . . enjoy each other’s company.”
Khara’s words were so obviously false, I could not believe they would convince the constables.
“Young love, eh?” A different voice, more cultured.
“Well, I wouldn’t say love,” Luca said, sounding embarrassed.
“That’s not what you said an hour ago!” Khara protested.
The chest muffled sounds, but still I heard Araktik’s voice from the stage.
“Thanks to the generosity of our great and magnificent Murdano, we are come together to mourn . . .”
“Love or not love, you have to get out,” the first human said.
“Yes, I’m afraid you must,” the second agreed. “Or we’ll be forced to arrest you and spoil this important day.”
“But we only want to—” Khara protested.
“Ah ah ah,” came the second voice, sounding firmer now, though still amused.
“Then I suppose we must join our friend Vallino,” Khara said, pitching her voice loud enough so that we would hear.
“And take that fuzzball with you,” the first man said.
I heard Tobble mutter, “Fuzzball!”
Three sets of footsteps left the room. But the constables didn’t follow them out. “Let’s look around and see if there’s anything . . . um . . . useful,” the smoother voice said.
“Useful, eh?” The other laughed. “And profitable, too?”
I heard the sounds of things being shoved and overturned. Holding my breath, I thanked fortune for poor human hearing. A felivet would have had no trouble hearing my frenzied heart.
Steps paused just outside my hiding place. The lid flew open, and I found myself staring up into a bearded face.
“Ho!” the constable yelled.
“Grrroooowwwr!”
Gambler roared, a sound that shook the walls. The man staggered back, drawing his sword. The huge felivet landed soundlessly on the floor.
All six constables drew weapons and formed a semicircle. They were scared, clearly, but not panicked. These were men accustomed to dealing with various species, and as powerful as Gambler was, I didn’t believe he could fight six swordsmen.
“Run!” Gambler shouted.
I made for the trapdoor, but there stood two more constables, swords at the ready. As I skidded to a stop, I heard more feet rushing up the stairs. Gambler’s roar had carried far, and reinforcements were rushing to the scene.
Outside, the Seer droned on, although with the blood pounding in my ears I couldn’t make out a word.
I spun and raced back through the room.
I was cornered. Cut off.
And this time they would make sure I was dead.
With an earsplitting roar, Gambler swiped at a careless constable, leaving bloody tracks down his sword arm.
Everywhere I looked, I saw men with swords.
Every exit was blocked.
Escape was impossible.
Unless.
I ran like a beast on fire, straight for a window.
33.
Pursued
I leapt and sailed through.
As soon as I spread my glissaires, I caught a warm updraft.
I was high above the crowd, but that wouldn’t last long. My gibbering mind calculated glide paths. I had very little choice.
On the one hand, I could veer left and land amid the terramants.
On the other hand, I could try a sharp right that would kill my speed and leave me splashing in the natite canal.
On the one foot . . . Oh, who was I fooling? There was no good answer.
Time froze.
I hung in the air.
I saw faces on the stage raising eyes to me.
I saw hands begin to point.
Then, with a roar of wind in my ears, I felt the full speed of my glide. I was hurtling like a falcon in a stoop, right toward the stage.
Right toward the Seer.
Araktik looked at me with icy blue eyes. I saw her eyebrows rise, her eyes widen.
I saw the moment she realized what I was: a dairne zooming above the funeral for her own species.
It dawned on me that I was not alone in the air. Raptidons, some below me, some above me, twisted their heads to catch a glimpse of the clumsy animal intruding on their sphere.
My jerky movements caused me to spin, reducing my view to brief flashes of creatures, stage, and sky.
Any hope was gone that I could catch just enough air to sail harmlessly over Araktik’s head.
A soldier on the stage made a mad dive for Araktik, knocking her aside just as I swept over the stage. I missed her by inches, so close she must have felt the wind from my passing.
I landed hard, rolling as we are taught to do, and came up running.
It wasn’t a bad landing, all things considered.
For a split second, the crowd seemed to be gasping in unison. But when someone screamed “Dairne!” a great roar of shock and amazement went up.
Running on all fours, I leapt from the side of the stage. I landed in terramant dirt, yelped in horror, skidded between the legs of one of the bugs, jumped onto and then off a squat terramant, feet scrabbling on the chitin shell, and barreled heedlessly beneath the T-stands of the raptidons, setting them all into confused, panicked flight.
I tripped in raptidon excrement and, as I came up, chanced to look back at my hiding place. There I saw Gambler. He’d left through the same window I had, but he was climbing up onto the roof, digging his claws into wooden beams and plaster as constables stabbed up at him with their swords.
I had no time to see more. I was out of the plaza in a narrow street, hands and feet sliding in muck, food vendors and
souvenir stalls surrounding me. Behind me, I heard the shouts of pursuing constables and soldiers.
I had just enough presence of mind to remind myself that I had to make for Vallino’s stable, and do it without leading my pursuers there.
Easier said than done.
I skidded into a sharp turn that took me beneath a fruit vendor’s stall, hit the vendor’s leg, and yelled, “Sorry!” over my shoulder. I squeezed behind the close-packed stalls, making it harder for the constables and soldiers to keep pace.
And then: luck!
An open door.
I was through it in a heartbeat. Slamming the door behind me, I set the bolt. I needed to find another route. The streets belonged to humans.
Ahead of me was a set of worn stairs. A little human boy sat at the bottom, sucking on his thumb and holding a stuffed toy raptidon.
“Pardon me!” I said, bounding past him, panting so hard that each breath was like scalding steam on my throat.
Up and up, to the top floor. I ran to a window facing away from the street. Without a pause I leapt, spread my glissaires, and landed on a rooftop a hundred feet away.
Let the humans try to follow me now, I thought.
But my triumph was short-lived. As Luca had told us, not all constables are human.
A swift raptidon screeched at me as it sailed in, its yellow talons raked forward. Its wingspan was wider than my body was long. A ribbon of blue and red, the colors of the isle’s constable force, trailed from one leg.
Above him, I saw two more liveried raptidons vectoring toward me.
I had landed on a rooftop patio. I pushed my way past a startled old man and raced down a set of stairs. I brushed by a grandmotherly type peeling carrots and headed into a narrow alleyway.
Unfortunately, it was a dead end. And at the mouth of the alley, led by screeching raptidons, stood two constables, grinning in anticipation of the moment when they could run their swords through me.
I was trapped.
I saw no door. Nothing I could climb. No escape.
“Come peaceful or come dead,” one of the men said as they stalked toward me.
There was nothing to say. Nothing to do.
“Peaceful,” I muttered, panting furiously, “it is, then,” just as a dark shape fell from the sky, landing as if it weighed less than a feather.
Gambler.
The huge cat turned to the men and said, “Two humans against me? I don’t like your odds.”
Evidently they agreed. Both took nervous steps backward.
“Byx, get on my back!”
I was in no position to argue. My legs were shaking, my heart hammering. I could barely breathe.
I used the last of my strength to grab hold of Gambler’s fur. He bunched his muscles and soared straight up, an impossible leap that took him just short of the eaves of the building above us. He shot out a claw, snagged a rain gutter, sank the claws of his other front paw into tile shingles, and by sheer brute power pulled us up onto the roof.
A reckless raptidon constable came at him, talons at the ready. In one move, Gambler knocked him out of the sky and sent him in a tangled, bloody heap down to the alley below.
Gambler twisted his head to check on me. I gave a small nod and we were off. We ran and jumped and practically flew. Across roofs, down through windows, into alleys, and back up to the rooftops.
I’d thought I had a pretty fair idea of what felivets could do. I’d thought I had a reasonable appreciation of their power.
I knew nothing.
Gambler moved like a raging river through a steep canyon. He was sheer, sinewy power combined with fluid grace.
Compared to Gambler, I was less than a wobbyk. I was a clumsy, stumbling warthog.
Terrified and exhausted as I was, I watched the magnificent way he moved through the world—his absolute certainty that every move would be the right move—and felt the same emotion I’d had the first time I saw the ocean: pure awe.
34.
The Not-So-Simple Truth
We met back at the stable, where, to our immense relief, Luca, Khara, and Tobble were waiting with Vallino.
Vallino took one look at Gambler and reared up on his hind legs with a furious snort.
“Horses,” Gambler said with a sneer, “are nothing more than wagons with tails.”
“He got us this far,” Khara said, stroking Vallino’s flank to calm him.
“Thank you, Gambler,” I said as I climbed down off his back, landing in the soft straw. “You saved my life.”
“But that’s my job!” Tobble cried, dashing over to embrace me.
“Believe me, I’m delighted to have two lifesavers in my company,” I said quickly, patting Tobble’s head.
“Were you followed?” Luca asked.
Gambler nodded. “By every constable on the isle, it seemed,” he said. He licked a paw with casual grace. “We must not linger here.”
“I’ve arranged a smugglers’ boat with Eldon’s help,” Khara said. “We just need to make it to the waterfront.”
Our route to the water wasn’t nearly as difficult as we’d feared. Luca knew all the back alleys, and the throngs of merrymakers filling the main streets meant it was easy for us to go unnoticed.
As we made our way, we were surprised to see hastily printed handbills posted on every corner by the constabulary, claiming that the “flying dairne” was a hoax perpetrated by enemies of the Murdano. Luca was at the top of the list, described as a “conniving traitor and mediocre scholar.” Khara was labeled a “renegade poacher and Murdano-hating terrorist.” Gambler was named, too. He was “an example of a treacherous felivet” who had lent his “vicious nature to the aid of this conspiracy.”
I was not listed. They couldn’t exactly describe me as a dairne. Not if I was extinct.
Tobble wasn’t included either, which caused some hurt feelings. “They never even noticed me,” he complained. “It’s like we wobbyks don’t even count!”
When we reached the shoreline, we found natites busily loading boats, checking to make sure that everyone had paid the water tax and had permission to use the sea. But the crush of boats soon overwhelmed them, and we slid through unchallenged. Fortunately for us, Eldon’s brother-in-law was a smuggler.
The battered boat, named Devil’s Smile, was large but old, the floor slick with green algae. Once we were safely out to sea, I sidled up beside Khara. She was in the stern, looking back at the isle. She looked weary. But then, we all did.
“You look anxious,” I said.
“I suppose I am. It’s just that we’re in the middle of some very serious things. The reputations of the scholars, the loyalty of the isle to the Murdano, the eumony, all of it. And Gambler’s theory that the Murdano wants to exterminate more great governing species . . .” Khara sighed and shrugged. “It’s way over my head.”
“Because you’re just a simple poacher girl,” I said, half tease, half reproach.
Khara started to say something and stopped herself. I knew what she was thinking as clearly as if she’d spoken. She’d been about to tell me an untrue story about herself. But she’d realized I would know she was lying.
“Khara,” I said, “I saw your sword when you cut up those serpents. That was not the sword of a simple poacher.”
“You heard me say that I expected a reward for you,” she said gruffly. “You didn’t sense a lie then, did you?”
“No,” I admitted. “You did expect a reward. But that was only a small part of the truth.”
Khara sent me a challenging look. “And what is it you think is the whole truth, Byx?”
“I am starting to think you are much more important than you pretend to be.”
I knew the question had to be asked. Politeness was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I needed truth.
“Tell me about your family, Khara.”
“Yes, tell us.”
It was Luca’s voice. I turned to see him striding toward us, with Tobble at his heels.
Khara
crossed her arms over her chest. “All right, then.” She exhaled slowly. “You deserve to know. My full name is Kharassande Donati.”
The name meant nothing to me, but it clearly meant something to Luca.
“Donati?” he repeated, eyes wide. “As in the Donatis?”
Khara gave a slight nod.
“And this name is important to humans?” Tobble asked.
“Long ago, when the first Murdano came to power, three clans rose up against him: the Corplis, the Rantizzos, and the Donatis,” Luca said. “The war lasted ten years.”
“Yes, and we lost,” Khara added. “At the most important battle of the war, the Corplis turned traitor, and the Rantizzos and Donatis were defeated—”
“Although,” Luca interrupted, “historians say their defeat was inevitable, regardless.”
Khara looked at him sharply. “Not the historians I’ve read. In any case, my great-grandfather was Baron of Riverhome, Keeper of the Arms of Kainor the Magnificent. He was captured and given the treatment reserved for traitors.”
“Which was?” Tobble asked.
“He was roasted over a slow fire for days, screaming in agony, before they finally cut off his head. My great-grandmother was thrown into a dungeon, where she caught the wheezing disease and died. Our soldiers were killed or enslaved. And our estate, Watersmeet, was turned over to the Murdano’s Seer. The grandfather of Araktik took control, then his daughter, and now Araktik.”
I blinked in disbelief. “The Seer lives in your home?”
“She murdered her own parents and now owns Watersmeet, though she has renamed it Sorcerer’s Spike. As for me, I grew up in very different circumstances. My father barely escaped the constant purges. He changed his name and hid deep in the forests. He fed us by poaching the Murdano’s private stocks.” Khara allowed herself a momentary smile. “That’s where I learned my tracking skills. It’s also how I came to know Ferrucci. We would bring him strange and unusual creatures for his study. My mother collected herbs and potions and made a meager living for us as a healer. We had nothing of the old days left to us. Or . . . almost nothing.”