“It isn’t going to fly us back,” I said. “It is going to fly usout.”
I pointed upwards at the crumbling ceiling, now shedding dust like rain. Soon larger clumps would fall, and then the whole roof would cave in. “The ceiling is made of bones, and there are layers and layers of bones above it. I can feel them. I can’t keep the whole of the catacombs from falling in. That’s too much, even for me. But I can direct the collapse, to some degree. If I open up the ceiling here …”
“Without bringing it down upon our heads, I assume.”
“… without bringing it down upon our heads, we can fly out before the catacombs collapse completely.”
I looked back at Patrick and saw an odd smile on his face. “What?”
“Just … Your Hair is swirling about your face, and you’re wielding bone magic on top of a giant skeletal bird. It’s quite the picture.”
“This is a desperate escape attempt, Patrick, not an opportunity to flirt.”
“It can be two things.”
“Be quiet. I need to concentrate.”
Above us, the ceiling crumbled and came apart. Blocks of stone and shards of bone rotated slowly in the air as a hole opened upward, stars winking at the very top. The bone bird crouched and then sprang, spreading its vast wings and propelling itself upwards, past the wreckage that hung suspended, through the ruin of the Pontiff’s palace, and into the night sky that was only just showing a sliver of dawn on the horizon.
Beneath us, the city creaked and groaned as fissures opened in the earth where the tunnels were caving in. There were shouts, and screams; flashes of flame where the crematoriums along the crumbling path broke open, and their great ovens cracked. I concentrated, keeping the bones strong and straight in the tunnel walls, stopping the collapse under the city and instead directing the tunnels’ collapse to the walls and beyond, where Ban Morin’s men were laying siege. His forces were about to have a very unpleasant surprise.
Behind me, I heard Patrick whispering his message to Baldbeak through bloodless lips. The raven went wheeling through the air in search of another flock. The message would spread to mages and practitioners across the city. Many would be able to get out of the spreading veins of damage in time. Some wouldn’t. A spiteful part of me hoped that the Pontiff, Milady, and Ban Morin were caught up in it all, or preferably crushed under the weight of a thousand crumbling bones.
“The palace!” Patrick shouted to me over the rushing air.
“What?”
“The king’s palace! It’s not in the path. We’ll be safe there.”
I looked down at the starry, scattered lights of the city. The palace was easy to spot—a cluster of glims and lights in all those thousands of windows. I bit my lip. It did seem like the safest place, especially if Ban Morin and the others were still out there—although they’d probably had enough of bone magic for one night.
But being in the king’s vicinity … Would Patrick try to persuade me again? Would theking? I didn’t have any better ideas, however, and although the bone bird seemed solid enough, I had uncomfortable visions of it disintegrating in midair if my hold on the magic failed.
A darker speck in the night sky became Baldbeak, flapping his way back to us. He landed between my hands where I clung to the creature’s neck, holding on with his claws without much trouble.
I made up my mind. It was a risk, but a small one compared to others I had taken. I was not really sure how exactly I was steering the bone bird—it seemed to respond to my thoughts almost before I had thought them. Now it changed course, slowly descending. I felt some of the tension in Patrick’s body release behind me.
We were going to the palace.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Ladder
‘To secure the end of a hand-stitched seam or close a loop, the ladder stitch is a practical choice. The seamstress guides the needle through the final looped stitch and pulls taut before cutting.’
—An Exhaustive Compendium of Stitches
Both Holy and Base, 4th Edition
Most of the dust had settled as we started our descent, and the sky was bruised with a slow and merciless dawn that cast dim light over Mirthwater’s broken skyline. The silence here was a fragile thing, stretched thin over the wreckage of a kingdom still teetering on the edge of collapse. From above, we could see the snaking line of destruction where the catacombs had caved in. I hoped that most of the people had managed to get away in time.
The palace was untouched, its thousand windows reflecting the morning. The bone bird landed carefully in the courtyard inside its walls with a clatter, making its eerie, hollow cry that sounded like stones knocking together. Guards had rushed out upon seeing something land on the ornate tiled path, but I doubt they had expected a giant skeletal bird, and they stopped in their tracks.
“A dragon!” yelled one. I rolled my eyes.
They knelt and leveled their spears at us. I was wondering if I would have to fight the king’s guard now, and how exactly I was planning to do that, when Patrick sighed behind me and climbed laboriously down from the spine.
When he hit the ground, I thought for a moment he was going to prostrate himself and kiss it—his face was very green—but instead he held out his hands, palms forward in a gesture of peace.
