The Children of the Sky

She crawled over to Zek. Ritl was nosing around him, licking his face. Zek rolled onto his belly; he was trying to arrange his cloak properly. Words popped into Ravna’s mouth, anything to satisfy the monster: “Okay, Vendacious. Tell me what you want to hear—”

She heard a strange sound, a low, broad moan. From the crowd. Ravna looked out, saw human and Tinish heads looking in a single direction. Not at Ravna. Not at the jumble that was Johanna and Tycoon. They were looking into the sky.

She swung around to stare at the airship. Something small and dark was falling from it. A living thing, flailing. A pack member, perhaps slightly overweight. The member fell and fell and fell, surely still alive. It disappeared from view behind the top of the stage.

Ravna looked down at Zek. “Why?” she said. “You didn’t give me a chance!”

Zek looked up, his head weaving almost blindly. His whole body was twitching. He gobbled chords she could not understand.

“Hei!” Ravna cried. “I’m doing what you want. Don’t kill any more of Amdi!”

She ran across the stage toward Tycoon. Amdi was eight—had been eight. He could still be mostly the same person at seven.

There were scattered shouts. In the sky above, she saw a second body, dressed like the first, drop away from the airship. Its legs pumped as it fell, as if it was fighting for traction.

Johanna had risen above Tycoon to look at the sky. The pack surged around her, dragging her down. He pulled Jo across the stage toward the main stairway. The gunpack spread out in front of him, its rifles aiming at Flenser and Woodcarver, and then at Ravna.

Tycoon stopped by Zek, gobbled a fierce interrogative. The singleton made some reply, but he was still twitching. Tycoon seemed to think a moment—he could still think in the middle of all this!—and then he grabbed Zek by the collar of his cloak and continued toward the stairs. As the eightsome passed her, Ravna reached out to Johanna. Jaws snapped at her, driving her back. “Now you will see what I do to liars and murderers,” said Tycoon. Then he was down the stairs with Zek and Johanna, his gunpack clearing the way.

More screams, maybe for Johanna, maybe—Ravna turned back to the west. Parts of Amdi were still falling from the sky. Three bodies, tumbling. Or maybe it was four, since one of them might be two members holding tight to each other. Then another … and another. Now that Amdi was mostly dead, Vendacious was just flushing the rest.

Ravna slumped to the deck. But I am not injured. Not at all. Why not? The bad guys had won and all the good intentions in the world had not made a bit of difference.

“Ravna? Ravna?” snouts poked gently at her. Woodcarver. Ravna turned and embraced the nearest of her. It was a gesture she had never dared with the Queen before, but just now she had to hold on to someone. A puppy —the Puppy from Hell?—crawled across another member’s back and nuzzled Ravna’s cheek. Woodcarver’s voice was a purring vibration from all her members: “Do your best now. Please, Ravna. There are still so many things to do.”

Chapter 41

Vendacious’ airship was flying off into the east even as the last of Tycoon’s gang loaded themselves onto the larger craft. Nevil’s people were the only ones helping, but the great airship made it into the air without problems. The craft was perhaps forty meters up as it passed over the stage—heading westward toward the Straits. These ships couldn’t turn in place; no doubt Tycoon would swing around to follow Vendacious.

She ignored the airship and looked around. Nevil’s buddies looked back uncertainly. They and the mass of the Denier children were drifting off the field. Most were heading uphill, toward Newcastle town. No one was stopping them, but Ravna noticed that suddenly there were lots of Woodcarver’s troops in evidence. Nevil himself was nowhere to be seen.

She turned towards Oobii and shouted several commands into the air. Nothing. “I need comm with Oobii,” she said to Woodcarver.

“I know. I have a runner bringing a radio.”

“You don’t have one with you?” asked Ravna.

“No.” Three of Woodcarver’s turned their gaze on Ravna. An angry hiss was the background of her words: “Nevil demanded we come without them. He used Oobii to destroy any radio that wasn’t used according to his desire. I still had most of the people on my side. He thought to change that with today’s meeting. You and Johanna made things come out a little differently.”

They watched as Tycoon’s airship made a broad turn over the Inner Straits. Children and packs swept around them, shouting and crying and pointing, imagining another body falling, this one human. No. Tycoon was a different kind of villain. Pray he was different.

Poul Linden came through the crowd, pushing even through Woodcarver. “Ravna!” He was gasping, so out of breath that the words wouldn’t come at once. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to stop him.”

“What? Who?”

“Nevil! I found him coming out backstage, but he was too much for me.”

“Show her what he dropped, Poul!” That was Wilm, flapping his arms impatiently.

“Oh, yeah.” He held out the HUD. “This is yours.”

Nevil had been dumb not to destroy it, but smart to let it go.

As she took crystal tiara, the Children around her grew silent. Awed? I hope not, thought Ravna. It was the sort of moment later times made paintings and Princess myths about. And I’ve sworn off all that garbage. She set the device on her head.

“Ship!” she said.

•  •  •

Having Oobii’s support was like stepping out of the dark. Tasks that would have otherwise taken Ravna hours or days could be done in minutes. Unfortunately, the most important things were still beyond her power.

The two enemy airships were heading steadily eastwards, not responding to the various radio methods that Nevil had been using. Both ships were at Ravna’s mercy, a fact that was worth exactly nothing.

The orbiter was not responding either. Maybe no surprise there. That was still Nevil’s special domain. Ravna did manage to talk with Scrupilo aboard Eyes Above, persuading him not to go chasing off after Tycoon.

Here on the ground the Children and their Best Friends swirled around her. They had shown remarkable patience with her these last few minutes, but now they were calling a thousand questions, crying—and crying for vengeance.

Ravna held her hands up. After a moment, the babble quieted. “Let the Deniers go back to their homes in Newcastle. Those are still their homes. They are almost half of the human race. We need them.”

Woodcarver boomed out: “I agree. No pack may harm them. But none of us should have to put up with Nevil anymore. Where is he, anyway?”

The question was put to everyone, but the answers were scattered and contradictory. Of course, this was one of the easier problems. Nevil might lurk out of Oobii’s direct sight, but his people were using radios. Sooner or later, Ravna would have a definite location for him. The current best guesses showed as a bright dot in Ravna’s HUD. Strange. “It looks like Nevil is heading out of town—” going northeast, toward the valley forest.

“Follow him!”

“We are.” Oobii is. Meantime—

•  •  •

They found Jefri behind the stage. Alive. Nevil’s people had left him hogtied in the mud. It was probably not deliberate that they had provided him with a forced view to the west. When Ravna showed up, Jef had been untied. He sat on the ground with his back to the timbers, staring into space. The front of his shirt was splattered with vomit. He didn’t seem to notice.