Before he could answer, the Sekoi was back, carrying a great platter of fruit. “This is all my people eat,” it said, “so it will have to do.”
“Where did you get it?” Raffi asked, taking a dew-apple.
“There are ways. Some I brought with me. There are places to buy in the city, but they’re brief, furtive, dirty. Knife-in-the-back. Not safe.”
Carys took some fruit and ate it hungrily; Galen was slower, and silent. There was clean water to drink, flavored by a sweet sugar that made Raffi realize his thirst.
It was only when the plate was empty that the Sekoi said, “And how is dear Alberic?”
Galen looked up. “How do you know so much about us?”
It purred again, the long fingers brushing its neck-fur.
“The Order have many secrets, keeper; so do we. Certainly I knew Alberic would send someone after me. He knew I would bring his gold here. And as I said, the owls told me you were in the district.” It smirked, showing small sharp teeth. “I gather I’m not your main interest though. Did I just hear the word Crow?”
Galen gave Carys a vicious stare. “It appears you did.”
The Sekoi shook its head sadly. “You’re foolish, keeper, ever to have come here. Nothing of the Makers is left. We’d know.”
Raffi looked at Galen, but the keeper’s face was hard. “I think you’re wrong. Tomorrow, I want you to take us where we might find some of the Order.”
The Sekoi scratched the fur over one eye. “The Order!”
“There must be someone left.”
It seemed to be thinking. “Maybe. It will be dangerous.”
“Good.” Morosely Galen watched the sun sink into a red cloud. “All the better.”
Journal of Carys Arrin Date unknown
Galen meditates. For hours. His prayers are all that keep him going. I don’t feel glad that I found out about this. It makes things easier for me, and explains a lot, but . . .
Well, I feel sorry for him.
I must be getting soft.
19
You will find that the Sekoi can often be bought—their greed for gold is well known. What they do with it and where they hide it have never been discovered. Their storytelling is some form of hypnosis and may affect the unwary. Keep away from them. They are of no importance.
Rule of the Watch
WHEN RAFFI WOKE, the Sekoi was sitting next to him, its long hands curled under its chin. “At last,” it said. “You’re awake.”
Carys was pacing impatiently, Galen saying the morning litany cross-legged in one corner of the roof. As he stood up, the Sekoi said, “I’m afraid I have no breakfast for you. Should we leave now?”
“Wait.” Galen took the last of Lerin’s food from the pack and shared it around. The Sekoi took a small piece of cheese and nibbled it daintily, pulling a few faces. It swallowed, bravely.
“Exquisite.”
“Stale,” Raffi muttered.
“Really?” The creature’s fur was fine over its face; Raffi noticed the yellow brightness of its eyes. Abruptly it said, “I should tell you that the Watch know you’re here.”
Galen almost choked. “Here?”
“In the city.”
“How?” Raffi gasped.
“Someone must have told them.”
“But no one’s seen us!”
The Sekoi purred, amused. “Don’t be fooled, small scholar. Many will have seen you. You may not have seen them. The city is full of eyes and spies. I’ve heard there are patrols out looking for you.”
Galen looked bleak. He ran a hand through his black hair. Carys glanced away. Her heart was thudding but she kept calm. It had to be the Watchmen at the gate. Rapidly she thought it out. Now someone higher up knew she was here—but not who the others were; not yet. This would make it harder, though. Everywhere would be watched.
As if it read her thoughts, the Sekoi stood and stretched lazily. “But no patrols where we go, masters.” It turned and waved a web of fingers airily. “We walk in the sky.”
The sun glittered on the highest tips of the city, rising from the dark mists below. The Sekoi led them to a corner of the roof and leaped elegantly over a narrow gap to a small bridge that swayed under its weight. Raffi followed; clutching the rope to hold himself, he glanced down and saw the gap between the roofs was filled to the brim with the swirling smoke. Just as well, he thought, imagining how high up they were.
“Move!” Galen yelled. “Hurry up.”
Raffi frowned. The Relic Master’s temper was getting worse the farther they went.
ALL MORNING THEY FOLLOWED the Sekoi over the intricate sky-road. It was cobbled together: a chain of bridges, rope-swings, planks, and stairway on stairway of trembling, wind-battered steps, around precarious domes and steeples, nested on by birds, stained by rain and the stench from the murk below. They climbed among chimneys, broken tiles, balustrades and balconies, belfries where the cracked bells still hung, filthy with bird droppings, silent since the city’s fall. It was cold up here, exhilarating; Raffi found himself almost happy, just being in the sun again. He could see here, he knew where he was. He sent sense-lines spinning into the clouds.
Finally though, he saw the road was running out. Fewer and fewer buildings pierced the dark, and some of the aerial stairways were broken. Twice they had to turn back. When the Sekoi stopped, on the parapet of a small dome, it helped Raffi up with a furred hand.
“Not dizzy?”
He shook his head. “Though I would be if I could see the ground.”
“Ah.” The creature leaned out and looked down. “So even Darkness has its uses. Worthy of your Litany, that idea.” It glanced back at Galen. “I wonder if that’s true of all darkness.”
Raffi stared at the Sekoi, but it winked at him and said no more. After a moment Raffi said, “You didn’t tell us your name.”
“We don’t tell our names, little scholar. Not to outsiders.” It tapped the zigzag mark under its eye. “That’s my name. It would just sound like a snarl to you. Didn’t teach you much about us, did he?”
“The Sekoi hate water and the dark,” Raffi quoted quickly. “They imperil their souls with riches; they tell intricate lies.”
The creature winced. “I see.” It made a small face. “Well, it’s accurate. Gold is precious to us. The sorrows of Kest come to everyone, even us, who were here before the Starmen. But now, I’m afraid, this is as far as we go. Come and see.”
Without waiting for the others, it walked around the dome, balancing easily on a narrow flaking ledge of stone, putting one foot delicately before the other. Raffi inched after it, arms wide, holding on to moldings and carved faces that crumbled in his hands. Breathless, the wind plucking at him, he sidled around to a wider part and found the Sekoi sitting, its legs dangling over the abyss.
“There,” it said softly. “The great wound.”
Before them, as far as they could see, the Darkness lay unbroken. Remote in the distance, the sun caught the tops of other towers, but the heart of the city was black and drowned, with nothing left high enough to pierce the eternal murk. Here the Darkness was vast; it steamed and churned, almost thick enough to walk on.
“So we go back down, then?” Carys said. She had come around silently; now she watched Galen balance, the staff strapped to his back.
“Down and down,” the Sekoi said mournfully. “That is, if you still want to.”
“We do,” the keeper said at once.