palm.
Brown like birthmarks, they nonetheless resembled the interweaving of three lengths of chain, in a pattern resembling the letter Y in Roil. Tiny runic letters accompanied the chains, like little angular travelers on corrugated roads. The marks had not always been so detailed, but over time it had come to be so.
Bone knew Snow Pine was very worried for her daughter.
“Perhaps,” Joy said eagerly, “if we get close to there, we can ask someone why Bladelander runes appeared on my hand.”
“It seems a reasonable question,” Gaunt said after a pause.
Snow Pine’s silence had the weight of a blizzard.
“Okay, fine,” Joy said in a rush. “Now I’m going to talk to the efrit!”
Bone whistled the sound of Snow Pine’s sputtering from his ears. But he could not whistle away the arrival of Walking Stick between him and Gaunt.
“You must tell her,” the wulin warrior said. “And her mother.”
“You are certainly one for giving orders,” Gaunt said.
“We have only guesses,” Bone said, touching Gaunt’s hand.
“Suppositions,” Gaunt said. “False speculation could only harm those two.”
Walking Stick said, “It could not harm them more than ignorance could. I have done enough here. Join me in the scroll when you’re ready. We must speak more and consult the Chart .”
With that, Walking Stick left them alone.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Gaunt said with only Bone and the sky for witness, “indeed, sir. I’ll have words for you then.” Bone thought it best not to pursue the matter.
Repairs done, Gaunt and Bone were reluctant to let the moment go. They called down that Haboob could heat the air, and as fire flared below they were alone after a fashion, in the clouds. The land below was inhabited, and they saw scattered firelights from villages and farms. Fleeting scents of cook fires and manure met their noses, followed by tree sap and algae as they passed into less-settled country. The moonlight allowed them to perceive the sheen of rivers crossing this region between mountains and sea. Gaunt said, “We may be the first people to perceive these lands from above, Bone. I can cover a town with my hand! There is nothing beneath my feet.”
“Innocence may have seen it,” Bone said, “when he passed this way.”
“Perhaps. Ah, Bone. Our worries are so ordinary at their core, so absurd in how they play out. My little boy, half-grown. Lost on a magic carpet. Other mothers might scold their boys for climbing trees.”
“Did he ever climb trees?”
“Oh, he tried to. He wasn’t quite big enough. But boulders. Statues. Walls. Monks. Whatever he could find.”
“That pleases me.” He paused. “We’ll find him.”
“I wish I had your certainty. And what will we say when we do?”
“Perhaps, ‘Hello! Let’s try this again. We’re your parents and we love you.’ How’s that?”
“Direct, Bone. Somewhat naive. But there’s something to be said for direct. But what if he tells us to go to the lowest of hells?”
“Then we leave him alone, if he’s safe. If he’s not, we improvise.”
“How can we leave alone a thirteen-year-old boy?”
“Many a thirteen-year-old has managed in the world. I was not much older when I sought my fortune.”
She touched his shoulder. “And is your life then the kind you’d want for your son?”
“That,” he said, squeezing her hand, “is a dark question for such a moonlit night.”
“And what life can we offer him after?”
“That one may be darker still. . . . What is that?”
They had seen no birds at this altitude, but Bone had the distinct impression that one was winging toward them.
“Could it be?” Gaunt said. “It couldn’t be . . . it is! It’s Lady Steelfox’s falcon.”
“Qurca?” Bone said, feeling as if the air was suddenly thinner.
“Qurca. Qurca! We are here!”
The peregrine falcon landed upon Gaunt’s outstretched arm, and she winced, but pain was clearly irrelevant to her now. “Bone, there’s a
Brown like birthmarks, they nonetheless resembled the interweaving of three lengths of chain, in a pattern resembling the letter Y in Roil. Tiny runic letters accompanied the chains, like little angular travelers on corrugated roads. The marks had not always been so detailed, but over time it had come to be so.
Bone knew Snow Pine was very worried for her daughter.
“Perhaps,” Joy said eagerly, “if we get close to there, we can ask someone why Bladelander runes appeared on my hand.”
“It seems a reasonable question,” Gaunt said after a pause.
Snow Pine’s silence had the weight of a blizzard.
“Okay, fine,” Joy said in a rush. “Now I’m going to talk to the efrit!”
Bone whistled the sound of Snow Pine’s sputtering from his ears. But he could not whistle away the arrival of Walking Stick between him and Gaunt.
“You must tell her,” the wulin warrior said. “And her mother.”
“You are certainly one for giving orders,” Gaunt said.
“We have only guesses,” Bone said, touching Gaunt’s hand.
“Suppositions,” Gaunt said. “False speculation could only harm those two.”
Walking Stick said, “It could not harm them more than ignorance could. I have done enough here. Join me in the scroll when you’re ready. We must speak more and consult the Chart .”
With that, Walking Stick left them alone.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Gaunt said with only Bone and the sky for witness, “indeed, sir. I’ll have words for you then.” Bone thought it best not to pursue the matter.
Repairs done, Gaunt and Bone were reluctant to let the moment go. They called down that Haboob could heat the air, and as fire flared below they were alone after a fashion, in the clouds. The land below was inhabited, and they saw scattered firelights from villages and farms. Fleeting scents of cook fires and manure met their noses, followed by tree sap and algae as they passed into less-settled country. The moonlight allowed them to perceive the sheen of rivers crossing this region between mountains and sea. Gaunt said, “We may be the first people to perceive these lands from above, Bone. I can cover a town with my hand! There is nothing beneath my feet.”
“Innocence may have seen it,” Bone said, “when he passed this way.”
“Perhaps. Ah, Bone. Our worries are so ordinary at their core, so absurd in how they play out. My little boy, half-grown. Lost on a magic carpet. Other mothers might scold their boys for climbing trees.”
“Did he ever climb trees?”
“Oh, he tried to. He wasn’t quite big enough. But boulders. Statues. Walls. Monks. Whatever he could find.”
“That pleases me.” He paused. “We’ll find him.”
“I wish I had your certainty. And what will we say when we do?”
“Perhaps, ‘Hello! Let’s try this again. We’re your parents and we love you.’ How’s that?”
“Direct, Bone. Somewhat naive. But there’s something to be said for direct. But what if he tells us to go to the lowest of hells?”
“Then we leave him alone, if he’s safe. If he’s not, we improvise.”
“How can we leave alone a thirteen-year-old boy?”
“Many a thirteen-year-old has managed in the world. I was not much older when I sought my fortune.”
She touched his shoulder. “And is your life then the kind you’d want for your son?”
“That,” he said, squeezing her hand, “is a dark question for such a moonlit night.”
“And what life can we offer him after?”
“That one may be darker still. . . . What is that?”
They had seen no birds at this altitude, but Bone had the distinct impression that one was winging toward them.
“Could it be?” Gaunt said. “It couldn’t be . . . it is! It’s Lady Steelfox’s falcon.”
“Qurca?” Bone said, feeling as if the air was suddenly thinner.
“Qurca. Qurca! We are here!”
The peregrine falcon landed upon Gaunt’s outstretched arm, and she winced, but pain was clearly irrelevant to her now. “Bone, there’s a
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