Traveler - Arwen Elys Dayton Page 0,97

them, and below, the sail upon which they stood dropped away quickly, until it bellied out into a valley, then rose again at the edge of the Bridge.

“We go down,” she said, “and at the bottom we find a place where we can cut back inside—away from them.” She jerked her head toward the flap they’d just crawled through. “Then we climb down to the thoroughfare and get help.”

The sails were supported by cables and a hidden framework of rafters, but out here, only the canvas was visible, stretched taut in some places, rippling in others in the ocean breeze.

There was a whine and a buzzing behind them, audible over the wind. Quin turned as a mass of disruptor sparks hit the canvas, lighting it from inside in a kaleidoscope of color. A handful of sparks burst through the cut she’d made, missing her and John by luck only and dispersing in the air.

Her eyes swept down to the distant ocean, and she felt desperation rising, threatening to blot out all rational thought. The idea of plunging down the face of the sail was terrifying, but there was little choice, and she couldn’t imagine her pursuers following her with live disruptors on their chests. That would be madness.

“I’m going!” she said.

Without waiting for John’s response, or for her courage to fail her, she plunged forward, down the steep curve of the sail. In a moment, she was sprinting headlong, her feet sinking into the canvas and sliding as she went. It was more like skating than running, and she was moving much too fast. At every moment it felt as though she would pitch forward over her feet and roll wildly out of control.

She did lose control at last, her forward motion overtaking the pace of her feet. She sprawled onto the sail, then careened downward, end over end, the canvas absorbing each fall and sending her onward.

“They’re coming!” John yelled from above as she at last pitched to a stop in the belly of the sail.

He was right behind her, still on his feet, but moving so fast she wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. He threw himself forward and rolled the rest of the way, fetching up a few yards from her, the sail rippling beneath him.

High above, all six boys were coming down the steep incline, like the Mongol hordes galloping across the steppes of Russia.

The wind carried the whine of the disruptors straight to Quin’s ears.

Atop the high roof in Kowloon, the Young Dread had examined every item from within her cloak and had returned them to their pockets.

Had John found Quin? Had he brought his thoughts of Quin under his own control? Would he continue to be her student?

If the answer was no, what would Maud herself do? Every day the Young Dread spent awake in the world, in this time and place, was a day lost from her life as a whole. And yet she couldn’t return to sleep now, not while she was the only active Dread. She did not even know how to wake herself.

John was an apprentice Seeker, but in recent days Maud had caught glimpses in him of a potential to be more than that—if he could commit himself.

Maud, please!

She heard the call in her mind and knew at once that it was John. Their minds had never touched before, but his thoughts came to her clearly, urgently. He was in a panic, running for his life. Maud, I need your help…

In a single practiced motion, the Young Dread stood and wrapped her cloak about her shoulders. Her athame and lightning rod were in her hand as she stared across the dense buildings of Kowloon toward the Transit Bridge.

Nott’s frustration at his fellow Watchers was obliterated in a rush of fear when he burst through the flap in the Bridge canopy. They hadn’t even paused to come up with a plan. Geb had herded all of them after Quin at a run, yelling that they mustn’t let her get away.

At once, the cloudy Hong Kong sky was above them, the endless drop of the sail was below, and the six Watchers were careening down the canvas faster than Nott had ever run in his life. After only a few steps, they were moving too fast to stop. All twelve of their feet made divots in the sail with each step, and each divot created ripples, so the canvas was moving in fiercer and fiercer waves under him as they

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