The Hanging City (83)

Just thinking of that enormous spider, of my body dangling above the canyon, sends a shiver up my backbone. “I was, but I’m fine.” I tuck my bandaged hand under my leg.

“Good.” She grinds away at a paste in her bowl. “I don’t suppose you came just to chat.”

I smile. “I will come just to chat again soon. But I do have a . . . favor to ask you.”

Her grinding slows. “I don’t like how your voice quieted.” She glances around, surveying for eavesdroppers.

“You leave the city to collect these, right?” I gesture to the bundles. So many herbs and plants have long been lost to drought, but the most robust ones manage to survive the dryness, just as we do. “Could you go tonight? And take me with you?” Ritha would have a trollis escort, of course, but it would get me out of the city, and if I happened to venture off toward my rendezvous with Tayler . . . so long as I came back having collected something, I think I’d be all right.

But Ritha frowns. “Not today. Not until all this scouting nonsense ends.” Her voice drops as she adds, “I bet it was trolls killing trolls, and they just blame it on us.”

The assumption makes my gut twist. I leave it be. “I see. Then . . . if anyone were to ask. Say Unach, or . . . Tartuk”—Ritha stiffens at the name of the human task force leader—“would you tell them I spent my evening here with you, preparing these?” I touch a bundle of creeping rosemary. “And I can help you, later tonight. The work will be done.”

Ritha chews on her lip.

“Please, Ritha.”

Setting down the mortar and pestle, she whispers, “And what are you doing that needs me to cover for you?”

I consider, but I might as well tell someone. “I’m meeting a human outside the city.” I keep my voice so low I can barely hear myself. “His name is Tayler. His people need seeds.” She doesn’t need to know the rest.

Her frown deepens.

“He might have information I need. If I come with a trollis, he’ll run. He was very specific about that.”

A thin sigh pushes past Ritha’s lips. “There’s Perg.”

There is Perg. Tayler has one half-trollis friend, so perhaps Perg wouldn’t upset him as much as Azmar would. But then again, he was very specific that I come alone.

Perg could be a backup plan, if I could even convince him to come. He likely wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his caste.

Reaching forward, I grasp her hand in mine. “Please, Ritha.”

She looks away. “Fine, Lark. But if anyone does come looking and gets suspicious, I have to save my skin.”

“Thank you. Wiln just saw me, too.”

“Well, that’s something.” She turns away, riffles through a burlap sack, and begins pulling out tiny packages. “I have some seeds you can take to them. Most will only grow in the canyon, though.”

Hope floods my limbs. “Thank you, Ritha. I won’t forget it.”



I use a window in Deccor housing to slip outside the city.

I saw it before, on my way to the south dock. A window to a small room whose walls had been damaged during the lecker attack five weeks ago. All the windows in Cagmar fit a uniform mold, but when cut in stone, they aren’t all precise. This one is just large enough for me to slide through. I don’t want to exit via the south dock. First, it’s on the bottom of the city, and the climb would be exhausting. Second, slayers always man the south dock, and I’m trying not to be seen. It’s a risk, I know, but the slayers’ handholds are all over the city and will help give me purchase, even without the security of a rope.

The sun burns a vivid orange, meaning there must be a dust storm a ways off. The breeze picks up the higher I climb. I stay close to the east cliff wall and the shadows, avoiding the slayers’ scouting points. Their eyes always point down, not up.

But when I reach the lip of the canyon, my limbs shaking from the effort, I know instantly that my mission has failed.

Unach wasn’t kidding when she said the scouts had been increased. The area beside the canyon is dry and flat, so it’s not hard to see the scouts stationed near and far, some only pricks of dark on the horizon. I can’t fathom how to sneak by them, even if I were to wait for the cover of night, at which point Tayler would likely have given up on me. Then again, it won’t be possible for Tayler to slip by, either. I doubt he would even try. And with the scouts roaming for a week now, he and any of his traveling party could be long gone.

I prop my elbows on the lip of the canyon and consider my options. The scouts, the time of day, a way to get a message . . . but no, none of those will work. And while I want to know more about Tayler, his township, and Baten, it isn’t worth giving up all I have to sate my curiosity. I wouldn’t know where to send a message, besides.

A memory niggles in the back of my mind. I try to grasp it, but it’s made of dried leaves and sand and slips through my fingers. But staring into the great expanse of the canyon, I manage to grasp it at the last second.

We’ll have to clear out the crag snakes.

I blink, backpedaling in my thoughts to Unach’s lesson on monsters shortly after my arrival. Crag snakes live in the north, near the mountains. They only travel down toward Cagmar when prey is scarce.

“Crag snakes,” I whisper. Which means I do know where Tayler’s township is . . . or at least, the general area. I bite the inside of my lip. Someday I’ll see Tayler again, and I’ll learn more of Baten’s story. I hope they can survive this never-ending drought, for the seeds Ritha gave me, and those I’ve collected from the canyon flora, will not make it into Tayler’s hands. Not today.