Rhae tried very, very hard not to make a face when Thenxi showed her the wings. Instead of the glorious gold and pearl wings she’d imagined, these were dingy little bits of cloth coated with an abhorrent smelling resin for waterproofing. They fit the colors of the Bridge—mottled in gray and black with pale green splotches—but Rhae had already pictured herself dispersing the clouds of the storm and flying back to Laurentum like a being from the heavens. She’d even composed an orchestral score to accompany her return.

“Forgive, Thenxi, but how am I supposed to fly with those? I’m not very big, but they still seem a little bit on the small side.”

“Fly? Who said anything about flying?”

“Oh. But you . . . you said we needed wings . . .”

Thenxi chuckled at Rhae, patting her horns affectionately. “Wipe off that crestfallen look. I will show you how to glide from ridge to ridge, clinging to the projections under the world. With a tent, you can bring your own little house with you.”

“That sounds complicated! Are you sure that I can learn?”

Thenxi drew a skull from an inside pocket of her robe. “This is from an albatross. They’re the best fliers in the world. I was saving it for one of the children, but Meri is already a good flier, and he can always find a new amulet. For you, this will stabilize you in the winds. Perhaps it will be enough so that you don’t die.”

“Perhaps?” Rhae whimpered.

“Nothing in life is a given, child. That’s what makes it so exciting.”

Rhae hung the skull around her neck like a pendant. “When I get back home, I think I will take a break from excitement for a long, long time.” She brightened. “Do you think I could keep this, though? Maybe I’ll write a song about flying that will help me continue to practice on the cliff by the Fair Haven school!”

Shouts from outside interrupted before Thenxi could answer. They ducked outside of the hanging tent to see what was causing the commotion. Thenxi balanced on a narrow wire, barely even using her hands as she maneuvered toward a section of intact roadway nearly twenty feet long and fifteen feet wide. Rhae followed gingerly, clinging to the hand rope for support.

She tried not to think about launching herself into the air without anything for safety. An idea hit her a moment later, and she let go of the guide rope. Taking deep, careful breaths, Rhae clutched the albatross skull in her hands. Just as Thenxi promised, the air around her seemed more solid, pressing against her in rising currents that kept her in place.

Rhae whistled and skipped the rest of the way to the stable platform.

Taras gave her a nod of approval, his arms crossed as he watched the proceedings. The three boys they’d seen at the foot of the pillar when they’d first landed on the Bridge stood next to Aravind, huddled close together as though they were lending courage to each other. Children ran in circles around them, whooping and cheering.

Meri, the middle boy, still had the shield he’d taken from Taras. Rhae scratched her horn. Why had Taras allowed him to keep the shield? Didn’t the cleric need it to channel his power?

“Our visitors tell me that you were the first to greet them when they arrived on our shores a few days ago,” Aravind boomed. “We’re gathered here to thank Meri and the twins for their excellent reception of our guests!”

Meri’s already pale face drained of color. He looked like one of the spectres of death that were popular in the theater shows around Fair Haven. The twins edged away from him, since he had been singled out by name.

Wind picked up. Sweeping through the tangle of cracked drainage pipes, torn up shards of paving, and twisted metal beams bent by forces beyond human comprehension, the wind bit into Rhae’s soul, carrying the stench of rot. The wind made her shiver, like an icy finger against her spine. The others seemed to feel it, too, pressing together to share body heat and courage.

Meri straightened his back and crossed his arms. Slight of stature with dark, mournful eyes, he carried an air of fatalism and charm. Rhae sensed that would grow into a powerful and carefully cultivated aura. Right now it was only half-formed, still dancing on the edges of youthful awareness. He bowed once. “Apologies, Fathers. I did not offer the hospitality befitting our great Crèche. I’m ashamed to admit that, rather than greet our deliverer, I ran in fear before her presence.”

Rhae giggled. He had turned the situation adroitly to his favor, even while he condemned himself. Maybe he was already more self-aware than she’d given him credit for earlier. When he grew up, Thenxi would have her hands full with that one.

“Rhae is quite terrifying,” Aravind said, nodding sagely at his son’s declaration. “Anyone can see she is almost as scary as the storm incarnate.”

Several children stomped their feet and grinned at Aravind’s pronouncement. More and more joined in, laughing, until the walls seemed to thrum with the resonant rhythm.

Rhae felt herself swept along with the furor of it all. She slipped a flute from her pocket and matched the pattern of the claps and stomps, adding some depth and melody to the sound. The notes burst forth in shimmering shapes to Rhae’s eyes; at least, they did in her imagination, and that was just as good in her mind. She willed the shapes to form into a pattern, overlaying the beat with subdued determination.

“You have heard the accused give an account. Shall we show mercy?”

“Toss him over the edge!” Thenxi called, cupping her hands to her mouth so the others could hear her dramatic faux-whisper.

Meri ducked his head and blushed. His brothers hurled insults at him from the crowd in front of Rhae, then they dissolved into peals of laughter. They must take the pageantry of the trial very seriously, Rhae thought, but not the actual justice.

Aravind held up his hands for silence. “I have heard the fine counsel of the Crèche. Meri shall make restitution by returning the shield to the holy man, and by guiding the deliverer to the spirit of the storm. After he had done these things, we will embrace him back with open arms.”

Taras took back his shield with feigned gravity, thanking Meri for his fine caretaking of his shield while he was otherwise indisposed. His eyes burned with an eager light. The shield shook and hummed, and a glowing barricade spun out from it, covering the Crèche. Inside the barrier of light, no winds penetrated. Meri stared in slack-jawed wonder.

“A fine gift indeed,” Taras said. Abruptly, the barrier dropped away. The winds seemed a little harsher, the cold more unrelenting, now that Taras had veiled the power of the light.

Aravind pulled the three boys into the hanging tent for a moment while the other children clapped and bowed to Taas. He didn’t raise his voice, but whatever he said must have hit home with the boys, who all exited the tent bleary eyed and sufficiently humbled.

Rhae rushed over to Meri. “Hi! You’re going to guide me so that we can fix everything.”

Pride and horror vied for control on his face. “Will you write a song about me if we live?”

“Sure! I’ll write a song about you even if you die. Don’t worry about a thing,” she beamed at him. “In fact, I’ll get started right away. Do you want to hear the first lines? Or should I keep it a surprise? Maybe I’ll enter it into the competition at the bard school if I do a good enough job. The deadline is a little tight, though. I’m not sure I’ll make it home in time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds exciting. You have a talent for that. Can you teach me?”

Rhae felt her horns pulse with pure pleasure. “I’ll do my best!”

Thenxi placed a hand on her shoulder. “Plenty of time for fun and songs later, children. The Mother waits for us; Rhae must be prepared if she is to survive.”

=+=

Errol kept his fingertips on the wall next to him, shuffling ahead a little at a time. He used his foot like a cane for a blind man, searching for obstacles or danger in the dark. The corridor seems to stretch on forever, although he knew it was only another mile until the next maintenance hatch in the ceiling.

Darkness held a thousand unknown terrors, but none worse than the ones he imagined. His mind ran wild with danger and disaster. What if he wandered in here until he died, only feet from the exit? His ignorance could kill him. What if the Stormorb claimed his soul? What if—

Growling, Errol shut the door to that line of thought. He had a task to complete; he could not afford to falter. He’d known the risks when he’d signed up for the Bridge expedition. Had it all been empty bravado?

Step after step, Errol moved closer to his goal. He swept ahead with his sensor field, but it came up quiet again. He was alone up here in the dark, with only his imagination to keep him company.

Despite constant attention to his scans, he started to relax. The narrow maintenance hallway appeared empty of creatures, or at least none showed up so far. He hadn’t encountered any obstacles or debris, either. Despite his discomfort, Errol started to jog, one hand on the wall. Quick steps, quick job.

An hour or two later—or perhaps twenty minutes; he couldn’t quite tell—Errol brushed up against a handle. He stopped running and backed up a few steps, but he couldn’t see anything in the perfect darkness. He groped for the handle, grasped the metal, and pulled. Resistance to the tug suddenly gave was as he broke the seal. The hatch swung open.

Once he emerged from the tunnel, a part of him wanted to go back inside.

The Bridge twisted in on itself, like a snake crushing a victim. Immense chunks of road were missing, exposing a latticework of steel beams and stone slabs. Through the gaps, Errol could see mottled gray clouds; compared with the virulent black of the storm front, these looked lazy and bloated—diseased. Perhaps the corruption grew stronger the closer the clouds were to the source of the fey storm.

Stomach rumbling, Errol began his climb. He wished he’d eaten more than the paltry bit of drumstick from the bird Maeda had caught. He sighed. He even wished Maeda were here to help him. A sure sign things were desperate, if he’d welcome her company right now.

He swung himself up to another pile of rubble and climbed across a chasm on a cable as thick as his leg. At this rate, he’d need to find food and water soon. His body couldn’t push hard forever on just willpower, although Maeda might disagree. Where was she, anyway? What was taking them so long to reappear after they’d weathered the storm?

To distract himself from the unpleasant possibilities, Errol started counting each beam he stepped on during his traverse across the broken Bridgescape. He bet himself that he could hit one hundred before the sun reached its zenith. Somewhere around twenty-seven he gave up on the bet, telling himself it was an awful game and he should be ashamed that he’d even thought of it in the first place.

The longer the day stretched on, the heavier his pack felt. Did he really need the thieves’ kit? Or how about the ominously-named Silver Amulet of Clarity—surely it was just another relic of the past, better fitted for a museum than a serious mission.

Errol suspected that Maeda had simply chosen something that would put Vytautas on edge so that she could slip that chip in her pocket. What had she wanted from that creepy shop so badly, anyway? If he lived through the coming storm, he intended to ask her.

Two cables twirled toward the summit of the Bridge, twisting up to where they anchored in the jagged cliff’s edge. Each time he gripped another handhold, hauling himself skyward, his doubts cleared up a little bit. He was making progress. Now all he needed was food.

Errol scraped his knuckles on a rough patch of the coiled metal fibers. He scowled, lips pressed against the raw flesh in his fingers. He was looking forward to a soft bed at a fancy inn when he got home; he’d be able to afford an upgrade with his share of the payment.

Again his stomach growled. He could probably catch a bird as well as Maeda could, or at least, he thought he could, if he managed to push his voltage stream to the next level. A strong enough lance of lightning could knock a dragon from the sky, the Eels claimed. He repeated the boast to himself like a mantra.

Below him, the clouds thinned in patches, giving him a clear sight of the many islands that supported the Bridge. Black water crashed into a beach far below, but the wind shifted as he climbed over a gap, covering up the view again. It was just as well. He didn’t like staring so far down, especially when he felt lightheaded.

His sensor field flickered to life.

Errol stopped climbing. Above him, he could sense the presence of at least a dozen men just past the rim where the cables emerged from their concrete casing. Maybe they hadn’t seen him yet. He could climb back down and find another way around.

An honest assessment of his situation stopped him. He looked up. A dozen feet to the top. He didn’t have the strength to climb back down. If they didn’t notice him, then he could slip by and continue toward the Stormorb. The plan seemed tenuous at best, but he couldn’t survive a fall, and he could tell his grip was weakening quickly.

His arms and legs started to shake. Out of options. He pulled himself up the rest of the cable, dragged his exhausted body over the edge, and collapsed like a pile of jelly.

A boot nudged his ribs. “Surrender or die,” the voice attached to the boot’s owner said, menace lacing the words.

Errol lifted his head and groaned. No chance of sneaking past them now. “I surrender. I don’t think I could run even if I wanted to.”

Two men marched forward, swords and shields at the ready. They slapped manacles on his wrists, dragging him into a corner where they flung him down. He grunted. His bones felt like they’d been flattened by a boulder.

“Keep him silent,” a rough, pockmarked man demanded. “He’s only the Mako—we have bigger fish to fry.”

The soldiers chuckled at the bad pun, but Errol felt his heart lurch. This wasn’t a random band of marauders hiding out on the Bridge. They knew about him. Just like the spear men back at the harbor, they knew about the mission. More soldiers for the scarlet woman? Who did she work for—or was she the boss?

He struggled to sit up. He had to warn the others. He just hoped they were still alive.