Free Updraft by Fran Wilde Page A

trade the skein to the Singers for answers.” He tied the chips securely in his robe, then looked at me. His brow furrowed in concern. “You’re still worried. I’ll help you study, if you want.”
    We sang softly through the short night and the early predawn, first Laws, then calculations and strategies for flying in a group of strangers. The hardest part of going beyond your own towers without a Magister in the lead was gliding from tower to tower without getting tangled, or worse, with strangers who were moving from place to place. We dozed on the balcony, wings by our sides, and woke to find that the moon had fallen again.
    We had barely rested and were stiff from sitting on the bare floor.
    â€œNat, we’re goners,” I said. “We’ll fail for sure.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said. “I won’t at least. Then I’ll put in a good word for you next year.”
    His bravado now and his temper the night before suddenly seemed much clearer to me. He was as afraid as I was. Tired of being the lowest on the tower. He wanted his future as much as I wanted mine. For the first time in a long time, I stepped outside myself and saw him, saw how much he’d changed.
    I leaned into his shoulder, and he leaned back. “We’ll both rise.”
    The sun had edged over the clouds and Elna had only just emerged from behind the sleeping screens when we came back in.
    â€œI hope you didn’t sleep on the balcony,” she grumbled.
    â€œNot at all,” Nat lied. “Just checking the wind for today.”

 
    5
    WINGTEST
    Four bone horns sounded short, bright notes across the morning: one each from Densira, Viit, Wirra, and Mondarath.
    First warning. If our feet weren’t on the testing plinth by the fifth warning, we would not wingtest until Allsuns.
    I fumbled with my straps, my fingers thick and clumsy. Elna finished securing Nat’s straps and hurried over, tutting. “Your mother wishes she were here to do this for you.”
    I wished it too.
    Elna’s hands were strong. She pulled the bindings too tight at first. She was used to Nat’s broader shoulders.
    We wrapped ourselves warm and tied our quilted silks close. Nat pulled his hair back from his eyes with a strand of silk. I didn’t have time to braid mine properly. It was a mess of tangles.
    â€œHere.” Elna pressed something soft and thick into my hands. A knitted cap, made of thick spun spidersilk and hemp. The cap’s chevron pattern was tight enough to bind my hair against the wind. She grinned.
    â€œYou made this?”
    She smiled, proud. I hesitated. I’d need something to keep the cap on.
    I unfolded the cap from what it concealed. A glint of aged gray-yellow metal, a shimmer of well-polished glass. My mother’s lenses. She’d paid a courier to bring them, but could not come herself.
    No matter. Part of her would fly with me today. The lenses had survived for who knew how long, handed up, the straps replaced, dents carefully pounded from the frames. She considered them her good-luck charm.
    Hope twisted the corners of my frown. I put cap and lenses on. Tightened the straps myself, until the padded rims pressed against my eye sockets. The lenses guarded my tired eyes from everything I saw: they framed and contained the sky.
    A second warning sounded from the four towers.
    The Magisters and their council assistants would have secured the testing plinth between the towers and raised the second wingtest flag by now: a blue banner edged in gray. We had to hurry.
    Nat and I unfurled our wings and moved to the edge of the balcony. Elna whispered, “Go higher,” behind us.
    A strong gust swept round the tower. Densira’s Allmoons banners kicked red arabesques on balconies above us. They streamed up and towards the plinth. A rising gust. A good sign indeed. We leapt together and caught the wind.
    As we rose on the gust, two sets of brown wings