At the Eastern Cliff’s bridge, they were stopped again and inspected by the cool gazes of the Crown’s warriors. They peered into the carriage and combed over each of the occupants in turn.
“Step out,” Flor said to Kaelan after the guards had moved back to Damion and Honey’s carriage. “There is no better view of the Spire than from the bridges.”
Flor disembarked and Kaelan followed. Magda hesitated, enjoying the absence of Kaelan’s heavy silent presence for a few seconds, but then she, too, was drawn out.
The brisk air hit her first. The wooden gates to the district’s bridge were closed, the guard towers looming over them, obscuring the view.
Flor led Kaelan over to the narrow vista point beside the tower, where a few bodies could cluster and view the Spire in the distance.
Piercing the cobalt sky, the great peak of the Spire glistened in the late afternoon sunlight. Limned gold, the soaring, tapered white tower was thickly coated with sculpture, impossible to discern from a distance. Below the Spire Peak, more towers ringed, overflowing with cascading greenery. Down and down the Crown’s Palace tumbled, in a succession of towers and buildings, like a massive tiered cake. Separated from the city below by a steep barren slope, the Palace could only be entered underground, through the mountain.
The city was divided into seven districts. Each fell under the jurisdiction of one of the seven Radiants. Walled off from the other, each had with their own bridge by which to enter across the chasm. Often the gates between the districts stood open, but sometimes not. Gleaming stone buildings and glorious lush gardens in the upper echelons of the great cityscape rose above the outer walls, and below, the chasm.
Magda leaned over the waist-high stone barrier at the edge of the vista and looked down through the plummeting shadows to the river hundreds of feet below. The seven bridges spanned the river in arches like the great Roman aqueducts she’d seen in human pictures. She always hated visiting the Spire, because of all its grand heights. This was the first time she’d ever been able to look down at the great river. In the deep shadows of the afternoon, the water was barely visible but for a few sparks of light reflecting off its back.
“Carved from the very mountain,” Flor was telling Kaelan of the Spire. “A gift from the dwarf kings, a marker of their fealty to the Crown. And there,”—she pointed towards a gray stone round tower overlooking the Cliffs’ District—“is our home in the Spire. Stonerise. Come along.”
Flor turned, leaving Kaelan and Magda alone at the vista point.
Magda gazed at the round tower, half hidden behind its own walls. The grand manor of Stonerise was more of a fortress than a manse. Numerous buildings were housed behind its granite walls. In one of them, she knew, was Lavana.
Kaelan glanced down into the chasm, his hands flat on the wall, as though he were thinking of springing over.
“It’s a long way,” he said.
Her gaze dropped over the edge into the dark depths, then up to the white peak of the Spire, then over to meet the silver eyes that should’ve been green, then to the Crown guards, in their silvery Pixie-cloth uniforms, lingering a bit too close, their gazes fixed a bit too steadily on nothing—eavesdropping.
“Then we’d better not fall,” she said, turning and heading back to the carriage.
ACROSS THE BRIDGE,the wheels clattered over the stonework. The gates groaned as they were heaved opened, bronze chains clunking around wooden pulleys. Into the Cliffs’ District, under the lavender banner with the red crown of the sun breaking, their carriage bounced. A miasma of clashing odors pushed through the cracks in the carriage—sun baking on stone, salty preserved fish, fragrant flowers spilling over garden walls and window boxes, the press of bodies and hot cooking oil and animals laying thick musk over all. The gates closed behind them with a resounding thud that turned every eye in their direction.
Magda fixed her gaze out the window. Her face was plain for all to see through the glass, but she didn’t meet the wondering eyes in return.
Then the bells began to ring.
If she felt the urge to grimace (and she did), she didn’t let it show. The median gates were opened. When closed, they barred the direct route up to Stonerise through the district. Most of the time, the residents were left to zigzag up the terraces or scale the narrow stairways. But today, the gates had been drawn and the main thoroughfare cleared for their reception. Soon, watchers packed the streets.
The carriage scaled the slope, up and up and up, leaving behind the shadow of the outer wall and breaking once more into the fading sunlight that poured out behind the Spire.
“I didn’t realize how crowded it would be,” Kaelan said through tight lips, as though he didn’t want to be seen speaking. “How many people live here?”
“Our district is one of the most populous,” Flor said, “because like our cliffs, our people are robust. Though many consider our province wild and dangerous, it is fecund because it is uncultivated, and thus, so are we. We are not considered as refined as other districts, but we are more feared and have always considered it better. This is why our campaign has a chance of success, you see? Because the family will find this”—she gestured to her cropped hair—“quite scandalous, but as soon as one of the other families expresses their disapproval, our kin will rally around us. Even those who support Lavana will be compelled to defend us. Once they begin, it will be harder for them to stop.”
Magda turned to Flor. “You have the mind of a minister.”
“Yes,” Flor said with a curling smile. “Why do you think your mother and I were such good friends? I do not boast when I say that she turned to me more than once for guidance.”
“Why didn’t she make you one?”
“Because I am a warrior,” Flor said. “And I have never desired to be anything else. Your mother respected the wishes of her friends and that is one of the reasons we were unfailingly loyal to her.”
“We?”
“I think you’ll find that there are more than a few of us old timers who recall your mother fondly,” she said. “Take care not to alienate anyone, Magda. Never assume that the face you see is their true face.” She gestured to Kaelan. “We are at the Spire now. Everyone wears a mask here.” She leaned towards the glass. “Ah, we approach Stonerise. We will be greeted by the elders of the family.” She looked at Kaelan. “Remember, Toryn is your father’s cousin.”
“I remember,” Kaelan said. “He calls me Cat, and I call him Uncle Two-Toes.”
“And why?” Flor prompted.
