Chapter Seven #3
I was too deep in thought—and Baldbeak was too distracted by his treat. I would not have noticed that my Temple steps attacker was near until he was upon us if it hadn’t been for a voice in my ear warning, “Netta. Look out!”
I turned sharply, but saw nothing but a confusion of shadow against the brick wall beside me. In turning, though, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and jumped back, just in time to avoid a blow that would have sent me sprawling.
The man from the Temple grunted in frustration and lunged for me, his Temple-yellow cloak swirling, the glyphs on his hands and wrists glowing blue.
A yellow cloak. Temple yellow, unmistakably, embroidered with the One Eye.
So he did work for the Temple—and, for some reason, the Temple was pursuing me.
Before I could think on this, a large fist wrapped itself in my Hair and yanked.
My head snapped back, my neck feeling like it might break.
I lost my footing and fell backwards into a solid slab of chest.
Baldbeak took off before wheeling back, claws outstretched.
I could just see from the corner of my eye that he managed to get a grip of the man’s sleeve, but the man shook him off with such force that he hit the nearby brick wall and fell to the ground, stunned.
I screamed, but a gloved hand that tasted of tobacco clamped itself over my mouth and partly over my nose, so that I was breathing in a sort of thin rasp.
“I owe you a broken arm,” he hissed in my ear.
I could feel his fist still embedded in my Hair, somehow keeping it still.
It had to have something to do with the glyphs tattooed on his arms—I knew from Mieka’s Undermarket symbol that spells and wards could take this form.
But I remembered how it had hung limp in the Tower when I woke.
This felt something like that—a dragging heaviness, as if the Hair itself had fallen asleep.
He moved his hand just enough so that I could speak.
“What do you want with me?” I managed.
“They told me what you did to Tarrow,” he said. “He was my cousin, did you know that? Not that we got along all that well, but family is family, and Temple guards stick together.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about!”
“Killed him in the Tower, they said. Cambrick told me.”
The Tower. I remembered the man who had made a violent gesture and brought down the staircase. That must have been Cambrick.
“Did he tell you that he was the one who left Tarrow there?” I panted. “Barred the way out and trapped him. Maybe blame him for your cousin’s death.”
The man hissed between his teeth, then wrapped his whole arm around my neck, squeezing.
A moment of blind panic, and then a surge of something rushing through my body, like a soprano’s long-held high note, exquisite and almost painful at once; beautiful, but shivering on the edge of being shrill.
The grip around my neck fell away. I felt whatever-it-was all through me, bright and cold, and then it was gone, leaving me limp and staggering, clutching at the slimy brick for support.
My ears rang for a moment longer, and black, tadpole-like shapes floated in my vision. I wondered detachedly if I might faint.
I became aware that Baldbeak was frantically pulling at the Hair, which also seemed to be in shock.
Wake, he was saying. Wake! Move!
I heard the day watchman’s rattle—perhaps a few blocks away.
“I hear you. It’s all right,” I said to Baldbeak. I lifted my hand, and he nuzzled his beak into my palm. Leaning back against the wall, I laid my hand on my chest, feeling the erratic ticking of my heart beneath my breastbone.
The Temple guard—if that’s what he truly had been—was on the ground before me, unmoving. I nudged him with my foot.
Two kills now, said Baldbeak proudly.
“Leave his eyeballs alone!” I managed to gasp.
I hugged my arms, suddenly cold. Crouching down beside the body, I moved his head gently with my hands.
It wobbled like a cherry on its stalk, the skin distended over an unnatural curve in the bones of the neck.
It had snapped. I drew my hands back, suddenly repulsed by the yielding softness of his dead skin.
I didn’t want to admit to myself what I already knew—I had done this to him with more than mere physical force. I had used it again, whatever it was.
There are men coming, said Baldbeak, flapping over to pull at a strand of my Hair.
I couldn’t fathom why the Temple had this much interest in me, but I wasn’t about to stay put and find out.
I still felt unsteady and disoriented, but Baldbeak flapped ahead of me through the rabbit warren of streets, and I followed him until we came to the door leading to the Book Man’s shop.
Baldbeak clung to my back so tightly that I felt his claws draw blood, but with all the other sensations and my still-swimming head, I hardly paid attention to it.
I tumbled inside and would have staggered to my nest among the stacks if I hadn’t heard voices.
Were there more yellow-cloaked men here, in the shop? Had they already found the Book Man?
“Ah, there you are,” said a voice. “Do come in.”