Free Cloudbound by Fran Wilde Page A

guards here.” His expression blended sadness and pride.
    Calli had been Liras’s most talented apprentice, and a good friend to many on Densira. My heart splintered, stabbing at me from the inside. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
    â€œYour sons will do well on Grigrit,” Kirit said kindly. “Doran runs a steady tower.”
    He nodded and ran his fingers over a pair of furled wings. “I do not know how I’ll work, once the new fledges’ orders come in. I’ve taken a large commission. I wish she were here.” He looked at the novices trailing us. “Are either of your fledges good with wings?”
    Minlin’s eyes brightened with hope, as did Nadoni’s. Yes, both of them were good. Singer-trained even. Moc poked at my side. “Me!” he whispered. His Lawsmarkers clicked together on his wrist.
    My pulse raced, and I struggled to calm it. We had our solution, I hoped. Liras could take the fledges, and we could be on our way. On to greater problems.
    Kirit pulled Minlin and Nadoni forward. “They’re young, but talented. If you seek an apprentice.”
    Liras’s slow smile came as another sharp tear to my heart. “I’ll try out both, with a small wage, and food.”
    The luck didn’t offset Calli’s loss, but it was a start for all involved.
    â€œThank you,” Kirit said. She nudged each fledge to respond as well. Then curiosity overwhelmed Minlin as he assessed the stall with a worker’s eyes. “Why so many black wings?”
    Liras’s face closed like a trap. “Apprentices don’t ask too many questions; they follow my lead. Understand?” Both fledges bobbed their heads, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Two fledges accounted for, though Minlin’s question nagged.
    Meanwhile, Moc fumed behind us.
    â€œYou didn’t even try, Kirit!” he said.
    â€œYou’ve not been interested in wings, ever, except for flying, Moc.” Kirit kept her tone light. “Besides, I need you to come with us.”
    Moc wasn’t interested in playing along. “I need something to do!” In his desperation, he gripped Kirit’s robe. People around us began to stare again. I heard the sense of betrayal in his voice. Left to his own devices, Moc would churn his frustration into trouble. I understood the cruelty of the elder Singer’s laughter. The Laws already accumulating on his wrist.
    Liras Grigrit watched us carefully, then led the two fledges into his stall. “Fly safe, Skyshouter. I’ll watch these two until your return.”
    We bowed low to him in thanks, and he struggled to bow even lower in response. Then Kirit and I, with Moc wedged between us, walked to the tier’s far edge. This side of Grigrit had a clear view of the cracked Spire and the northern towers beyond.
    We were nearly away.
    I was glad of it, though I didn’t know why we had to take Moc with us. Doran’s desire to hang on to the codex the night before had sparked my unease. Watching the tower citizens play Justice had fanned it. From the near-riot to small things like Liras’s excitement over new inventions this morning, life in the southwest had grown more complex and dangerous than Doran had been willing to share. The wind had certainly turned against the Singers, but there was more to it, like a bad smell on a gust that hit for a moment, then disappeared.
    Kirit was right: the contents of her satchel wouldn’t be safe on Grigrit, or anywhere in the southwest. All of it needed to be in the council’s hands, even the broken pieces.
    But Moc? He was in a foul mood, and he’d be slow in the air.
    Moc struggled to adjust his fledge wings. They were underpowered compared to what he’d been accustomed to in the Spire, but he’d had time to get used to them. If he’d applied himself. I felt selfish hoping he wouldn’t slow us down too much. We couldn’t afford to stop and