The Children of the Sky

if you want. Be ready to hop back in if I say.”

Johanna descended the little steps, stood in the moist, ankle-deep sod. It was all very stamped down and shaded, but here and there the sunlight caught the color of a wilted flower. Murder Meadows. She seemed to end up here every time things got really really tough.

•  •  •

“So that’s Tycoon up there. Pack of Packs, it sounds like there’s eight of him, and they’re all big bruisers!” Wretchly was circled widely around their carriage, watching and listening in all directions. One of him stayed close to Johanna even now, as she walked over to the jumble of strutwork he had pointed out earlier.

Johanna looked up into the shadows and bright cracks above. “So what is he saying, Wretchly?”

“It’s still Nevil talking. What a noisemaker that guy is. ‘Peace, prosperity, our new friends, no more terrible attacks,… blah blah.’”

“You know he can talk for hours, Wretchly.”

“Yeah. Well, that would be stupid today. The audience doesn’t sound as patient as usual.” He waved a snout at the unseen fields. “And one particular guy is not patient at all.”

“Me,” said Johanna.

“Somebody else. The eight that I think are Tycoon is shifting around like he has bugs up his rears.” Wretchly paused. Looking around, Johanna could see several of Wretchly shifting, angling their shoulders and heads, building up a sonic image of what was going on above. “That’s strange,” said Wretchly. “I think Tycoon has humans with him. Ravna and Jefri it sounds like.”

Johanna restrained her desire to shout. “What? Then it must be safe!”

“… Not if they’re prisoners.”

“But Woodcarver and Flenser are up there.”

“Yes,” Wretchly pointed into the shadows in the direction that Flenser had departed minutes before. That would be stage left, if she was visualizing things properly. “They haven’t gone to meet Ravna. It sounds like Tycoon has a pack or two with him. Flunkies with weapons, I bet.”

A minute later, it sounded like a human child had shouted something.

Wretchly pulled back in startlement. “Huh! That’s Tycoon. He wants to talk.”

Various thumping-around noises came from above. Johanna might have laughed in other circumstances. She didn’t think Nevil had ever been upstaged at a public event.

The little girl voice from above was loud, but Johanna still couldn’t make out the words. The tones sounded frightened and lost and … angry?

Wretchly had grabbed her sleeve, was pulling her back to the carriage. “What?” said Johanna. “What is Tycoon saying?”

“He’s talking about peace, but he doesn’t sound happy about it. That’s not the point, Johanna. I hear packs coming back under the stands, some humans too.”

“Woodcarver’s?”

“No, they’re Deniers and the lowlife Tines that Nevil hires. We got a couple of minutes. I can get you out of here.”

As he spoke, the rest of Wretchly had come rushing in from their listening posts. Now they were clustered around her, silently pushing and pulling her toward the carriage. When she still resisted, Wretchly stepped back, his heads cocking indecisively. “Cripes. My boss knew this would happen. Can’t you see? He set you up.”

Maybe, and so what? Jo looked up one more time. From here she could see the top of the path Wretchly had pointed to. It ended at a panel, quite thin and weak-looking compared to the walls around it. Scriber’s brother is up there. In the early years, she had wondered about that nameless brother, wondered if he ever knew what became of Scriber, or if that estranged pack would even care to know. If Flenser was right, Tycoon had really really cared. The lie Vendacious had told him had propelled a decade of history. Vendacious had murdered Scriber and turned that into a monstrous coup. The old rage rose up in Johanna, what she had felt ever since Vendacious had escaped execution and then escaped imprisonment. This must not stand.

“Get to someplace safe, Wretchly.”

“Good. C’mon!” said Wretchly. Then as she started up the ladder: “Aw, cripes.”

She glanced down, saw him clustered around the base of the ladder, one of him starting up toward her, the rest all looking at something out of sight behind her. Three looked up, waving their heads, but not daring to call aloud. Then the one on the ladder tumbled back to the heather, and she heard all of him rushing away.

From above, the little-girl voice continued on, wailing with words Jo couldn’t quite make out. Surely the distress was an illusion. And yet, Tycoon deserved to learn how close his brother had come to greatness, how his special crazy goodness had gotten him killed.

She was at the top of the ladder. She swung to the side, reached out to touch the wood panel. It was tacked on with temporary pegs. She could smash right through. She hesitated, let the rage give her strength. Somewhere there was a voice in her head, but it wasn’t the voice of caution; that was still tied and gagged. The Mad Bad Girl of Starship Hill was in charge.

Chapter 40

Ravna climbed down the stairs and stood in the soaking heather. The airship’s carriage was seated thirty centimeters into the heath. The main hull was only a few centimeters above their heads. They were in the ship’s shadow, mostly out of sight of the welcoming crowds. Even here the daylight was awesomely bright and cheerful and familiar.

The gunpack urged them to follow Zek and Tycoon. Ravna took a step or two, unsteady after all the low ceilings. As she stepped out into direct sunlight she stumbled and would have been crawling again if Jef hadn’t had an arm around her. Together they staggered a few steps more, then stood straight for a moment, reveling in having the space to do so.

Cheers came on the wind. Ravna turned. The ground crew had retreated. Except for Tycoon’s entourage, the nearest people were thirty meters away. The cheering was coming from the Children and Best Friends. And Ravna suddenly realized they were cheering Jefri and herself.

She gave them a wave back and then gunpack pushed at their legs, urging her and Jefri to catch up with Tycoon. Their progress across the field was slow, partly because of Ravna’s unsteadiness, partly because the hummocky heath was an ankle-twisting obstacle course.

None of the Children came running out to meet them. They were staying behind low barricades. Several older Children—Nevil’s people—were keeping the more enthusiastic from rushing onto the field. All for the safety of the public, no doubt. A lot had changed since she was kidnapped.

Tycoon’s party turned across the bow of his airship and walked in stately splendor toward the midpoint of the stage. Ravna and Jefri hobbled along behind. Nevil’s voice was audible even from here. Of course, he was using his power with Oobii to advantage: “… and the attack this morning must not get in the way of our meeting here. Peace is finally within our reach.…” she heard him say. But his voice was mainly focused on the crowd, and she lost the rest of the words.

Nevil was standing behind a high lectern at one end of the stage. Three humans were with him, and two packs, one wearing crowns. Downhill, beyond the stage, Ravna had a view of Out of Band II in all its iridescent splendor. Nevil had positioned his stage so that all the participants were within the field of fire of the ship’s beam gun. With his admin authority, Nevil figured he could kill anyone here, pack or human. He could burn the meadow clean if he wished. Was Nevil really capable of such monstering? I better assume so. In any case, it was his top threat against anyone who truly knew him.

Except perhaps for me, thought Ravna. Oobii was smart enough to recognize a human face. And Nevil, by putting this scene in its line of sight, had guaranteed that Oobii could see her. If it recognized her … She leaned against Jefri, letting him steady her. She looked at the ship and said softly, “Ship! Give me a milliwatt of red if you hear me.” Her voice was whipped away in the breeze. Jefri himself didn’t seem to hear her.