Silverwing (10 page)

Shade looked at his own thin forearms. Naked. No band. Why hadn’t he been chosen? And what if he brought Marina back to his colony and suddenly she became the special one. And all those things Frieda had said to him—about him having a brightness—were forgotten. He didn’t want to be just a runt again.

“Why are so many bats afraid of the bands?” Marina wanted to know, and she told Zephyr about the Brightwings, and the Graywings they’d met on the way into the city.

“It’s right to be wary of the Humans,” Zephyr said. “Their customs are mysterious, and they’ve been known to attack bats, thinking we were pests, or worse, evil spirits, something to be destroyed. And I know for a fact there were bands that killed their wearers. And whether that was the band itself, or the nature of the bat who wore it, no one can say.”

“My father had a band,” said Shade, “and he discovered something important about it, but—”

“He disappeared this spring in the south, I know,” said Zephyr. “They said owls killed him. We’ve got to catch up. There’re friends of his who might know something, they can tell us where he went …”

“Did you know you’d been injured?” Zephyr asked him calmly.

As if on cue, Shade was suddenly conscious of a pain in his left wing. When he looked he could see a tiny puncture in the membrane, slowly oozing dark blood. He felt a little sick.

“One of the pigeons must have pecked you.”

“Yeah,” said Shade dully, and then: “How’d you know it was the pigeons?”

“Good ears,” said Zephyr with a small smile. “I hear a great deal of what goes on in the city skies. And there’s been a commotion tonight, let me assure you. A visit from the owl ambassador is not a regular occurrence.”

But before Shade could launch a barrage of questions, the albino bat cut him off.

“Now, let’s see what we can do about your wound. It’s not serious, but it does need some attention. This way.”

He led them to a long stone ledge underneath a window, and settled down on all fours among a pile of dried-up leaves. At first Shade thought they’d somehow blown into the tower, but then he realized there were many small neat piles, all different kinds, arranged nearby. Some were so fresh they still had droplets of moisture on them, others so old and wizened they crackled as Zephyr nosed through them. And there were other things too on that cluttered ledge: bright berries, bits of twig, and large bulbous roots with the soil still clinging to them. Insects, long dead and dried up, beetles Shade had certainly never seen, and would have thought twice about eating—scaly armor and horny spikes around the head. There were little pieces of decayed earthworm and grubs and moths.

“What’s he got all that stuff for?” Shade whispered suspiciously to Marina.

“I collect them,” Zephyr said, obviously overhearing. “There’s
no need to be suspicious. They’re very useful, believe me. Try to keep an open mind, I’ve been around this earth somewhat longer than you.”

Shade grunted, embarrassed. He should’ve known Zephyr would hear. With his sonic eye he’d seen halfway across the city to the pigeon roost. He could practically read your thoughts.

After a moment the albino bat returned with a berry in one claw and a leaf in another.

“Unfurl your wing,” he told Shade. He proceeded to chew the berry, working it over thoroughly in his mouth.

“What’re you doing?” Shade asked.

Without answering, Zephyr leaned over Shade’s wound and drizzled the finely mulched berry juice onto it. It stung and Shade flinched.

“Hey!”

“This will prevent an infection from spreading through your wing. And it will heal faster.” Zephyr gently spread the oily fluid with his tongue.

“A berry does all that?” Marina asked.

“It’s a common enough potion,” said Zephyr. “Now, sleep is the best thing for you.”

“No,” said Shade, “we can’t stay. I mean, we need to get going, we’ve lost so much time.” But he felt exhausted, and now the rip in his wing was beginning to hurt, sending sharp jabs into his shoulder.

“Believe me, Silverwing, you need the sleep,” said Zephyr. “And you couldn’t find the route you need right now, even if you wanted to.”

Shade didn’t understand. He was about to ask him to explain, but Zephyr had already taken a very small nibble of the leaf he’d carried over. This one had a distinctive shape and dark veins, and
Shade couldn’t remember ever having seen it before. But then, he’d never paid much attention to the shapes of leaves. You couldn’t eat them—at least that’s what he’d thought before now.

“Open your mouth,” he told Shade.

Shade hesitated.

With a hint of impatience Zephyr said, “It will help you sleep.”

Reluctantly, Shade opened his jaws, wincing as the albino bat drizzled the leaf juice down his throat. At least it didn’t taste terrible—in fact, it had almost no taste at all.

“You should sleep on all fours tonight, with the wing spread flat.”

“They were going to peck off our wings,” he told Zephyr, not without pride. “They said giant bats killed two of their soldiers earlier tonight.”

“Yes, I overheard one of the owl guards.”

“And they’re closing the skies!” Shade said, remembering in a rush. How stupid: He should’ve told Zephyr all this earlier. It was important. But with all the other new things, the gargoyles and meeting an albino bat, and finding the right tower—

“I know about the closed skies too,” Zephyr told him gently.

“Oh, right,” said Shade. He yawned, then perked up again. “There’re no bats that big really, are there?”

“Get some sleep,” Zephyr told him. “We’ll talk more tomorrow night.”

Already Shade could feel a heavy, delicious warmth spreading through his body, and a wonderful sense of safety overtook him. That sense of being home, a place like Tree Haven, close to his mother. He looked groggily at Marina.

“I think, probably, I’ll just have a quick nap—”

The inside of the tower seemed to become very dark—even his sound vision faltered, silvery lines fading—and then pure, silent blackness swallowed him up.

Goth landed beside Throbb on a ledge in the metal shaft. Foul fumes rose up from the darkness below, but at least they were warm. It was the best roost he could find in the rooftops of this cursed city. He didn’t know much about Human buildings, and he hadn’t had much time before the sun came up.

The sun. That at least had shown him where east was, and from there he could guess at south. But he knew he’d need more than that to stay on course for a whole night.

He’d have to understand these new northern stars.

“We need a guide,” he said to Throbb. “Someone to show us how to read the sky—that’s the only way to get back home. We have to find a bat.”

Shade opened his eyes, as if he’d just blinked, and saw Zephyr looking down at him.

“Oh,” he said, “I thought I’d fallen asleep.”

The albino bat laughed. “You did. You slept through the whole day. The sun’s just gone down.”

Shade frowned. It seemed he’d just closed his eyes, but he certainly felt refreshed and alert. He remembered the tear in his wing and looked: The berry oil had formed a pale opaque film over it, and the pain was now only a dim ache.

“I guess that plant stuff really works,” he said, tentatively flexing his wing. “Where’s Marina?”

“Down in the cathedral. She wanted to look at the Humans.” Zephyr pointed the way to a wide shaft in the center of the floor.

“What do they do down there?” Shade asked a little uncertainly. He’d never seen a Human.

“They meet here in the evenings sometimes. They talk and sing. I believe they pray as well. Go see, if you like.”

Shade lit from the stone ledge where he’d slept, and circle
the spire several times to test his wing. A little stiff, and sore on the downstroke, but not bad at all. He cautiously spiraled down the shaft and felt like he’d entered the belly of a giant beast.

Never had he been inside such a colossal space. Huge pillars stretched from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. High windows glinted darkly in the walls. Cold seeped across his wings. Suspended above the floor on long chains were lights in circular metal holders. He thought of the Promise: that ring of light, and felt impatient. There was so much he wanted to know.

Beneath the lights were Humans, sitting in neat rows, all facing a raised platform on which stood a single male in robes. Shade kept his distance up near the rafters, shooting out quick tendrils of sound.

So this is what they looked like.

Of course they’d been described to him by his mother, and there were always stories going around. But they were huge, much taller than he expected. Their limbs were thick and powerful. What was it like, he wondered, not to fear anything? To never be scanning the horizon all the time, even when you ate, making sure nothing was sneaking up on you.

They were wingless, of course. He stared at their backs and shoulders quite a long time, just to make sure. He felt a quick pang of pity. How horrible, to be stuck on the ground your whole life, while other creatures got to soar above you. He couldn’t imagine not flying. He supposed he shouldn’t feel sorry for them, though. Maybe they didn’t mind. Anyway, he remembered Frieda once saying they had metal machines that let them fly. They had machines for practically everything it seemed. They were geniuses.

He found Marina intently watching the Humans. She didn’t look at him as he roosted beside her.

“I’ve never seen so many all in one place,” she breathed, a look of anticipation on her face. As if something wonderful was about to happen.

Suddenly the Humans all stood, and began speaking in unison, their deep slow voices filling the cathedral. What were they saying? Strange music spiraled crazily from a set of pipes high in a loft. Shade wished he understood what it all meant. The Humans’ intense concentration charged the air, and Shade’s fur lifted.

“I want to go to them,” Marina said, and Shade was stirred by the longing in her face. He twitched his nose awkwardly. He didn’t feel her passion, and it bothered him. The band—it was all to do with the band, and he didn’t have one.

“After my colony left me,” she said, “I was always looking for the two Humans who banded me. Once I thought I saw them. It was stupid, I mean, it’s not as if I got a good look at them. But I flew toward them anyway, and it was just like with the bats. They were scared. They waved their arms, and shouted, and covered their faces.” She gave a quick laugh. “Not exactly overjoyed to see me.”

“Not all Humans are the same,” Zephyr said, fluttering down to them. “The ones who give the bands will not fear you.”

“If we ever find them,” said Marina.

The Humans stopped talking and stood in silence.

“Are they praying now?” Shade asked Zephyr.

“I think so.”

It was baffling. What did they have to pray for? Didn’t they already have everything they needed?

“They’re fighting a war of their own, you know,” Zephyr said.

Shade looked at him in amazement. “With the beasts? I suppose it is, the birds are too small. Apes? Is it apes, or maybe the wolves? I’ve heard stories about how strong—”

“It’s with one another, as far as I can gather.”

Humans fighting Humans—it was mind-boggling. “Why?”

“That I don’t know. The fighting takes place far away. But that needn’t concern you now. What does is the pigeons. They’re looking for you.”

“Here?”

“Oh, don’t worry. They don’t dare land on the cathedral. They seem more afraid of the gargoyles than ever.”

“They come to life, that’s what some of them think,” Shade said.

“It was real bats who killed those two soldiers last night.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know them.” The albino bat seemed troubled. “I’ve only heard them as they cross the city. They’re strangers, and I don’t think they’ve been here long. But they’ve set something fearful in motion.”

Shade knew he meant the owls closing the skies. And he was right: That spelled danger for every single bat alive.

“But why did the bats attack?” asked Marina.

“Why shouldn’t they?” Shade said with a snort. “Look what the pigeons nearly did to us. And the owls, burning down our roost. Killing my father. They’ve got it coming.”

“You may be right,” said Zephyr. “But this could turn into a war, and war is nothing to hope for.”

Shade grunted. But what if war was the only way? Zephyr couldn’t know everything. Frieda said they couldn’t win against the birds, but what about these two giant bats? If there were enough of them …

“Well, I’ll feel a whole lot better when we put the city behind us,” said Marina. “So, just as soon as boy wonder here figures out where we’re going …” She looked at Shade expectantly.

He sighed. He knew he’d found the right tower, and the cross matched perfectly. But he also knew somehow it wasn’t enough. There was one more piece of the puzzle, and without it, he had nothing.

From beyond the cathedral’s stone walls came a muted clang, and Shade’s ears pricked.

Bong
…

Then another:

Bong
…

It was the same sound they’d heard last night from the pigeons’ tower. The wrong tower, but still, Shade was sure this was the sound from his mother’s map.

“What’s that for?” he asked Zephyr urgently.

“It’s how the Humans measure time. One clang for every hour.”

Bong
…
bong
…

He summoned up his mother’s sound map: that clanging noise … how many times had it sounded in his mind? Seven? Yes, definitely seven. And last night he’d only heard three.

Bong, bong
—that made six so far….

Shade waited breathlessly.

And then came a final:

Bong.

Seven bongs. This was the right time. And this tower was the right place. In his mind, the spire and the cross beckoned to him with new urgency.

“Come on!” he yelled to Marina.

Without explaining, he beat his way back up the shaft into the spire, and then out through a gargoyle’s throat. He flew through the gaping jaws and swirled to the very top of the spire. Marina and Zephyr weren’t far behind.

“I think I understand!” he told Marina. “My mother gave me
the time, and the place I’m supposed to be, so I can chart our new course by the stars!”

Shade hung upside down from the horizontal bar of the cross. Lucky it was a clear night: Stars were strewn across the sky. His mother’s sound map was very precise. He had to be in the very center of the cross. He shuffled over. A circle of hollow metal ringed the junction. A cross inside a circle. He recognized the image now!

Within the circle the heavens were divided into four quadrants.

“So what are we looking for?” he heard Marina ask.

A string of stars drifted through three of the quadrants. Which one did he want? He conjured up the sound map once more.

Stars.

The sky divided into four.

One star flaring brighter than all the others, surging toward him.

The top right quadrant!

That’s where he should look.

And there it was, right where his mother had sung it—a bright star. Their star.

“I’ve got it!” he shouted, pointing with his wingtip. “All we’ve got to do is fly straight for it! Easy, huh?”

“Following stars is a tricky business,” said Zephyr. “They move you know.”

“They do?” Of course they did. Stupid. He knew that, but had forgotten in all the excitement. The stars weren’t simply fixed in the sky. His mother explained how they moved around in a circle every night, finishing where they started. But that was all he knew. He hadn’t learned star navigation yet.

“I think I can handle it,” said Marina.

Shade grimaced. He’d cracked the puzzle, and now Marina got to do the rest.

“We’ll have to take our bearings the same time every night,”
she said, glancing at the glow on the west horizon. “Just a bit after sundown. We won’t have that bonging sound to tell us once we leave the city.”

“You’ll have to learn to measure time in your head,” Zephyr told them. “Your bodies know very well how much time has passed with each wingbeat. The stars move at a fixed rate: Once you know that, you’ll be able to check your course throughout the night, using that same star as a guide.”

“Oh, sure, I get it now,” said Shade breezily. He gazed through the cross. It seemed awfully difficult.

“You’ll manage,” said the Keeper of the Spire, “between the two of you.”

Shade looked out across the city, and shivered in the sharp air. It wasn’t safe anymore, the night. The pigeons would be searching for him and Marina. The thought of setting out again filled him with weariness. Who knew how long it would be before they caught up with the others? He wished, for a moment, he could simply stay here at the spire with Zephyr. It wouldn’t be so bad. It was safe, and obviously warm enough through the winter. And they were sure to learn an awful lot. Zephyr seemed to know almost as much as Frieda …

“You’d best set off now, Silverwing,” Zephyr said gently.

“Yes,” said Shade gratefully. Of course he had to keep going.

“Follow that star of yours,” Zephyr told him, and tilted his chin up so he seemed to be looking right at it.

“You can
see
it?” Shade asked.

“With my ears,” replied the old bat simply.

Shade whistled in disbelief. How could you hear the stars? It was impossible! They were too far away.

“When you lose one sense, you develop your others many times over,” Zephyr said. “And how do you know you couldn’t
hear the stars, if only you paid enough attention to them. It’s just a question of practice and perseverance.”

“I suppose,” said Shade. He made a mental note to try to listen harder to things.

“I see things inside here too,” said the albino bat, gesturing with a white claw to his head.

“Like what?” said Marina.

“The past, the future. It’s all a question of echoes. If you listen you can still hear the reverberations of things just happened, just a second ago, an hour ago. If you listen very hard indeed, you can still hear things that happened last winter, or ten winters ago, as if they were right before your eyes. It’s the same with the future. Everything has a sound, and it’s just a matter of time before it reaches you; but if you have very good hearing, you can hear it coming from a long way off.”

“Can you see if we catch up with the colony?” Shade asked impulsively. How could he not ask?

The albino bat hunched over slightly, and froze in intense concentration. His tall pointed ears reached upward, flared wide. Then, with a sigh, he spread his pale wings, as if they would somehow help him trap sound.

As Shade watched silently, the underside of his wings seemed to darken. Shade blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, maybe the paleness of Zephyr’s flesh was somehow weirdly reflecting the sky. But the wings definitely seemed to be turning black and then sparkling when—

Zephyr suddenly wrapped them over his head, cloaking himself. “It will be like all journeys, difficult, and not what you expect.” His voice sounded distant, uncertain. “You’ll meet an unexpected ally, but beware of metal on wings … and … you will find Hibernaculum—”

Then, with a sigh, he spread his pale wings, as if they would somehow help him trap sound.

Shade’s heart leaped, but Zephyr’s voice was far from joyous as he continued.

“—but others are searching for it too, powerful forces, and I can’t see who will reach it first, or whether what they bring is good or bad … And your father, Cassiel …”

“What?” Shade exclaimed. “What about him?”

The albino bat hesitated a moment before saying: “He’s alive.”

Zephyr stopped and his head reappeared. He quickly folded his wings back. “I can’t hear any more. The echoes are so faint and confused.”