Marshals were gone.
‘It’s not fair!’ shouted Magma.
The Grand Master banged the hammer. Leaning over the desk, he stared into the assembly. ‘You white robes are ordered not to howl. This is not a time to act like wolves. It’s a time for celebration. We have expunged a rot that could have infected us all.’
Magma’s wails grew louder. Iggy had also started crying. Urvogels in front and behind were staring.
The Grand Master, knocking his hammer with successive sharp raps, nodded at the Air Marshals standing at the back. Two Air Marshals marched down and took up a spot in the aisle directly beside Rocco. Another pair stopped at the other end of the row.
Basalt leaned over and whispered in Magma’s ear. He did the same to Iggy. Whatever it was he said, both Magma and Iggy, with a few sharp intakes of breath, stopped crying and sank into soft muffled sobs.
More names were called and convictions reached. One urvogel after another was found guilty of playing a musical instrument alone, singing alone or reading alone. The condemned urvogel would kneel, as Cristobalite had, in front of the judges’ desk while his or her wings were severed.
Each time the dust swirled while the room grew dark. The entire assembly joined Harpia up in the dome. Vesta, Basalt, Iggy and Magma flew up too. They seemed to care so deeply for Py, and yet they were celebrating whenever another defendant lost his or her wings.
Rocco sat firmly in his seat, keeping watch on his own wings. Each time it grew dark he held his breath until his bioluminescence surged bright. He usually hated his glowing feathers, but now the light meant he was unaffected by Harpia’s dust. Didn’t it? He kicked his feet, and lifted his arms. He was still in control of his limbs. No impulse was hauling him out of his chair.
The room had grown as hot as a bush fire. Py’s section stood empty at last.
‘This court stands adjourned.’ The Herald finally began rolling up his long swath of paper.
In the ceiling, a row of windows below the dome was thrust open and rays of light fell into the room. Rocco caught sight of Harpia’s skirt and feet as she flew out of a window. The gold robes were folding up her swing, and the long lengths of hose.
Down at the front, eighteen pairs of urvogel wings hung on the judges’ desk. Nineteen convictions had been entered. Py had been the youngest. He was the only one to be exiled instead of losing his wings.
Rocco bolted up the aisle, pushing past the Krakatoans who were moving much too slowly. He was the first to push out into the bright sunlight. He gulped the air, flapped his wings, and examined his legs and arms. He still looked normal.
Dust blew off his feathers and clothes as he ran full tilt down the steps and crossed Avian Plaza. Arriving at the side of the fountain, he bent over and retched. He could climb right into the basin, but perhaps there was a rule against that. Instead he dunked his head in the water and swished around.
Standing up, he retched again. Wiping his mouth, he sat down on the side of the fountain. He immediately began shivering so he stood up again and flapped hard. Using his hands he beat the dust from his clothes.
The Krakatoans were spilling out on the steps of the courthouse. Their wings gleamed. They had always been bright, but now they glowed with a pristine whiteness that was almost blinding. Basalt, Magma, Vesta and Iggy appeared. Spotting Rocco, they glided down the steps and over to the fountain.
Their heads, brows and lashes were full of dust. They leaned or sat on the edge of the fountain. Their skin gleamed pale.
‘What is that stuff?’ asked Rocco, flicking dust off of Iggy’s shoulder.
‘It’s Harpia’s royal perfume,’ said Iggy and Magma together.
Instead of laughing because they had just said the same words at the same time, they gave Rocco a blank stare.
‘What’s it for?’ Rocco gave his own shoulders another casual swipe. Dust churned up.
Their eyes were
‘It’s not fair!’ shouted Magma.
The Grand Master banged the hammer. Leaning over the desk, he stared into the assembly. ‘You white robes are ordered not to howl. This is not a time to act like wolves. It’s a time for celebration. We have expunged a rot that could have infected us all.’
Magma’s wails grew louder. Iggy had also started crying. Urvogels in front and behind were staring.
The Grand Master, knocking his hammer with successive sharp raps, nodded at the Air Marshals standing at the back. Two Air Marshals marched down and took up a spot in the aisle directly beside Rocco. Another pair stopped at the other end of the row.
Basalt leaned over and whispered in Magma’s ear. He did the same to Iggy. Whatever it was he said, both Magma and Iggy, with a few sharp intakes of breath, stopped crying and sank into soft muffled sobs.
More names were called and convictions reached. One urvogel after another was found guilty of playing a musical instrument alone, singing alone or reading alone. The condemned urvogel would kneel, as Cristobalite had, in front of the judges’ desk while his or her wings were severed.
Each time the dust swirled while the room grew dark. The entire assembly joined Harpia up in the dome. Vesta, Basalt, Iggy and Magma flew up too. They seemed to care so deeply for Py, and yet they were celebrating whenever another defendant lost his or her wings.
Rocco sat firmly in his seat, keeping watch on his own wings. Each time it grew dark he held his breath until his bioluminescence surged bright. He usually hated his glowing feathers, but now the light meant he was unaffected by Harpia’s dust. Didn’t it? He kicked his feet, and lifted his arms. He was still in control of his limbs. No impulse was hauling him out of his chair.
The room had grown as hot as a bush fire. Py’s section stood empty at last.
‘This court stands adjourned.’ The Herald finally began rolling up his long swath of paper.
In the ceiling, a row of windows below the dome was thrust open and rays of light fell into the room. Rocco caught sight of Harpia’s skirt and feet as she flew out of a window. The gold robes were folding up her swing, and the long lengths of hose.
Down at the front, eighteen pairs of urvogel wings hung on the judges’ desk. Nineteen convictions had been entered. Py had been the youngest. He was the only one to be exiled instead of losing his wings.
Rocco bolted up the aisle, pushing past the Krakatoans who were moving much too slowly. He was the first to push out into the bright sunlight. He gulped the air, flapped his wings, and examined his legs and arms. He still looked normal.
Dust blew off his feathers and clothes as he ran full tilt down the steps and crossed Avian Plaza. Arriving at the side of the fountain, he bent over and retched. He could climb right into the basin, but perhaps there was a rule against that. Instead he dunked his head in the water and swished around.
Standing up, he retched again. Wiping his mouth, he sat down on the side of the fountain. He immediately began shivering so he stood up again and flapped hard. Using his hands he beat the dust from his clothes.
The Krakatoans were spilling out on the steps of the courthouse. Their wings gleamed. They had always been bright, but now they glowed with a pristine whiteness that was almost blinding. Basalt, Magma, Vesta and Iggy appeared. Spotting Rocco, they glided down the steps and over to the fountain.
Their heads, brows and lashes were full of dust. They leaned or sat on the edge of the fountain. Their skin gleamed pale.
‘What is that stuff?’ asked Rocco, flicking dust off of Iggy’s shoulder.
‘It’s Harpia’s royal perfume,’ said Iggy and Magma together.
Instead of laughing because they had just said the same words at the same time, they gave Rocco a blank stare.
‘What’s it for?’ Rocco gave his own shoulders another casual swipe. Dust churned up.
Their eyes were
Similar Books
