"Not all Humans are the same," Zephyr said, fluttering down to them. "The ones who give the bands will not fear you."
"If we ever find them," said Marina.
The Humans stopped talking and stood in silence.
"Are they praying now?" Shade asked Zephyr.
"I think so."
It was baffling. What did they have to pray for? Didn't they already have everything they needed?
"They're fighting a war of their own, you know," Zephyr said.
Shade looked at him in amazement. "With the beasts? I suppose it is, the birds are too small. Apes? Is it apes, or maybe the wolves? I've heard stories about how strong—"
"It's with one another, as far as I can gather."
Humans fighting Humans—it was mind-boggling. "Why?"
"That I don't know. The fighting takes place far away. But that needn't concern you now. What does is the pigeons. They're looking for you."
"Here?"
"Oh, don't worry. They don't dare land on the cathedral.
SlLVERWING I05
They seem more afraid of the gargoyles than ever."
"They come to life, that's what some of them think," Shade said.
"It was real bats who killed those two soldiers last night."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know them." The albino bat seemed troubled. "I've only heard them as they cross the city. They're strangers, and I don't think they've been here long. But they've set something fearful in motion."
Shade knew he meant the owls closing the skies. And he was right: That spelled danger for every single bat alive.
"But why did the bats attack?" asked Marina.
"Why shouldn't they?" Shade said with a snort. "Look what the pigeons nearly did to us. And the owls, burning down our roost. Killing my father. They've got it coming."
"You may be right," said Zephyr. "But this could turn into a war, and war is nothing to hope for."
Shade grunted. But what if war was the only way? Zephyr couldn't know everything. Frieda said they couldn't win against the birds, but what about these two giant bats? If there were enough of them . . .
"Well, I'll feel a whole lot better when we put the city behind us," said Marina. "So, just as soon as boy wonder here figures out where we're going ..." She looked at Shade expectantly.
He sighed. He knew he'd found the right tower, and the cross matched perfectly. But he also knew somehow it wasn't enough. There was one more piece of the puzzle, and without it, he had nothing.
From beyond the cathedral's stone walls came a muted clang, and Shade's ears pricked.
Bong. . .
Then another:
Bong . . .
It was the same sound they'd heard last night from the
pigeons' tower. The wrong tower, but still, Shade was sure this was the sound from his mother's map.
"What's that for?" he asked Zephyr urgently.
"It's how the Humans measure time. One clang for every hour."
Bong . . . bong. . .
He summoned up his mother's sound map: that clanging noise . . . how many times had it sounded in his mind? Seven? Yes, definitely seven. And last night he'd only heard three.
Bong, bong —that made six so far. . . .
Shade waited breathlessly.
And then came a final:
Bong.
Seven bongs. This was the right time. And this tower was the right place. In his mind, the spire and the cross beckoned to him with new urgency.
"Come on!" he yelled to Marina.
Without explaining, he beat his way back up the shaft into the spire, and then out through a gargoyle's throat. He flew through the gaping jaws and swirled to the very top of the spire. Marina and Zephyr weren't far behind.
"I think I understand!" he told Marina. "My mother gave me the time, and the place I'm supposed to be, so I can chart our new course by the stars!"
Shade hung upside down from the horizontal bar of the cross. Lucky it was a clear night: Stars were strewn across the sky. His mother's sound map was very precise. He had to be in the very center of the cross. He shuffled over. A circle of hollow metal ringed the junction. A cross inside a circle. He recognized the image now!
Within the circle the heavens were divided into four quadrants.
"So what are we looking for?" he heard Marina ask.
A string of stars drifted through three of the quadrants. Which one did he want? He conjured up the sound map once more.
Stars.
The sky divided into four.
One star flaring brighter than all the others, surging toward him.
The top right quadrant!
That's where he should look.
And there it was, right where his mother had sung it— a bright star. Their star.
"I've got it!* he shouted, pointing with his wingtip. "All we've got to do is fly straight for it! Easy, huh?"
"Following stars is a tricky business," said Zephyr. "They move you know."
"They do?" Of course they did. Stupid. He knew that, but had forgotten in all the excitement. The stars weren't simply fixed in the sky. His mother explained how they moved around in a circle every night, finishing where they started. But that was all he knew. He hadn't learned star navigation yet.
"I think I can handle it," said Marina.
Shade grimaced. He'd cracked the puzzle, and now Marina got to do the rest.
"We'll have to take our bearings the same time every night," she said, glancing at the glow on the west horizon. "Just a bit after sundown. We won't have that bong-ing sound to tell us once we leave the city."
"You'll have to learn to measure time in your head," Zephyr told them. "Your bodies know very well how much time has passed with each wingbeat. The stars move at a fixed rate: Once you know that, you'll be able to check your course throughout the night, using that same star as a guide."
"Oh, sure, I get it now," said Shade breezily. He gazed through the cross. It seemed awfully difficult.
"You'll manage," said the Keeper of the Spire, "between the two of you."
Shade looked out across the city, and shivered in the sharp air. It wasn't safe anymore, the night. The pigeons
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would be searching for him and Marina. The thought of setting out again filled him with weariness. Who knew how long it would be before they caught up with the others? He wished, for a moment, he could simply stay here at the spire with Zephyr. It wouldn't be so bad. It was safe, and obviously warm enough through the winter. And they were sure to learn an awful lot. Zephyr seemed to know almost as much as Frieda . . .
"You'd best set off now, Silverwing," Zephyr said gently.
"Yes/' said Shade gratefully. Of course he had to keep going.
"Follow that star of yours," Zephyr told him, and tilted his chin up so he seemed to be looking right at it.
"You can see it?" Shade asked.
"With my ears," replied the old bat simply.
Shade whistled in disbelief. How could you hear the stars? It was impossible! They were too far away.
"When you lose one sense, you develop your others many times over," Zephyr said. "And how do you know you couldn't hear the stars, if only you paid enough attention to them. It's just a question of practice and perseverance."
"I suppose," said Shade. He made a mental note to try to listen harder to things.
"I see things inside here too," said the albino bat, gesturing with a white claw to his head.
"Like what?" said Marina.
"The past, the future. It's all a question of echoes. If you listen you can still hear the reverberations of things just happened, just a second ago, an hour ago. If you listen very hard indeed, you can still hear things that happened last winter, or ten winters ago, as if they were right before your eyes. It's the same with the future. Everything has a sound, and it's just a matter of time before it reaches you; but if you have very good hearing, you can hear it coming from a long way off."
 
; "Can you see if we catch up with the colony?" Shade asked impulsively. How could he not ask?
The albino bat hunched over slightly, and froze in intense concentration. His tall pointed ears reached upward, flared wide. Then, with a sigh, he spread his pale wings, as if they would somehow help him trap sound.
As Shade watched silently, the underside of his wings seemed to darken. Shade blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, maybe the paleness of Zephyr's flesh was somehow weirdly reflecting the sky. But the wings definitely seemed to be turning black and then sparkling when—
Zephyr suddenly wrapped them over his head, cloaking himself. "It will be like all journeys, difficult, and not what you expect." His voice sounded distant, uncertain. "You'll meet an unexpected ally, but beware of metal on wings . . . and . . . you will find Hibernaculum—"
Shade's heart leaped, but Zephyr's voice was far from joyous as he continued.
"—but others are searching for it too, powerful forces, and I can't see who will reach it first, or whether what they bring is good or bad . . . And your father, Cassiel ..."
"What?" Shade exclaimed. "What about him?"
The albino bat hesitated a moment before saying: "He's alive."
Zephyr stopped and his head reappeared. He quickly folded his wings back. "I can't hear any more. The echoes are so faint and confused."
"But couldn't you see where—"
The albino bat shook his head regretfully. "Only that he's far away."
"Alive," Shade muttered in amazement. Deep in his heart he'd always hoped it was true. His mother and Frieda were wrong. Cassiel had just disappeared, but where? He looked restlessly into the sky.
"So, good-bye," Zephyr said. "And good luck."
"Thank you," Shade said. He lit from the spire, circling
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with Marina. "And thanks for fixing my wing too. And everything else."
"Good-bye," called Marina over her wing.
They flew high, eager to get clear of the rooftops, and the pigeons that roosted there. Marina suggested they split up the sky between them, to make sure they didn't miss anything. Shade tried to calm his mind. His father, alive . . . Impossible as it was, he knew he had to concentrate. He forced all his senses together as one. He sniffed, he listened, he scanned the night for any sign of birds.
When they were far above the highest towers, and the whole glorious, gleaming city was spread before them, they leveled off. Shade found his guiding star and pointed his nose toward it.
"Did you see the underside of Zephyr's wings?" he asked hesitantly.
"I was wondering if it was just a thing with the light," Marina said eagerly.
"Me too."
"But—"
"I don't think it was, was it?" he asked.
There was a silence.
"You saw it too, didn't you?" Marina asked.
Shade nodded. "His wings got dark underneath."
"Yes," she said. "They were black as night—and they were filled with stars."
Goth looked down over the glittering lights. He'd been circling with Throbb for over an hour now, gradually spi-raling out toward the city's edges, searching for bats. They'd seen none. Did bats even exist this far north? It was a sickening thought. What if they didn't? How would he find a guide? How would he get home?
He'd had a dream just before sunset. He was back in the jungle, glorying in the heat, and suddenly, all around him were hundreds of bats, not his own kind, but small
bats, the smallest he'd ever seen, flying joyful circles around him, chanting his name. What are they doing here, he wondered, but he was overcome with a feeling of triumph. Until the giant trees and vines and ferns of the jungle suddenly toppled over, and all around were walls, Human walls, and behind one of them stood the Man, smiling at him.
Goth shook his head. It was rare for him to dream, and he'd learned that it was always important, a way for Zotz to speak to him. What did it mean?
"Look!" Throbb hissed. "Down there."
Goth peered down through the sky and smiled with relief.
Bats.
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Closed Skies
"Did you hear that?"
"What?" Marina asked.
"Wingbeats." Shade looked back over his wing, sweeping the sky with his eyes and echo vision. Nothing.
They'd finally reached the outskirts of the city, and Shade was exhausted. He couldn't believe how lucky they'd been. Twice they'd seen a distant squad of pigeons patrolling rooftops, and once he'd spotted an owl sentry silhouetted against the rising moon. But they'd passed unnoticed. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling they were being followed. The moonlight made him nervous. It lit the silver in his fur, and Marina, at times, positively glowed.
At least they were far away from the ocean now. And he could smell trees and fields up ahead, hear their familiar outlines. He knew what to stay away from here, where he could eat, where he could hide.
"I still can't believe my father's alive," he said. "Where though?"
"He disappeared around Hibernaculum, right? That's where you start looking."
"What if the owls have him?" Shade had heard terrible stories about owls using bats as slaves, to build nests, hollow out trees—and then eating them.
Marina shook her head. Shade knew even if they found him in time, it would be almost impossible to rescue him from an owl nest.
"Maybe he's with the Humans," Marina said hopefully.
Shade smiled. It was a comforting thought. But why wouldn't his father have come to tell Ariel and the others—to tell him. He wouldn't just desert them all, keep the secrets to himself?
The owl plunged from behind, silent wings spread, and it was only the pungent odor that made Shade whirl just in time. He cried out, and flipped to the side—fast enough to escape the claws, but not the wings. The blow sent him spinning down to the trees, stunned. He hit a branch, the impact softened by dried leaves, and sunk his claws into the wood so he wouldn't slip off.
Enormous eyes bore down on him. He scrambled to get out of the way as the owl battered the branch with its wings. He saw Marina hurl herself against the bird's back, and sink her claws and teeth into the dense feathers.
The owl shrieked in fury, swiveled its immense head, and stabbed at Marina with its hooked beak. She jerked clear, and the owl slapped her off with its wing.
And turned back to Shade. All he could see were those flat moonlike eyes—and then something big and dark struck the bird from the side, and clung. It was as if part of the night sky had torn loose and lashed down. The owl bellowed in agony. Shade saw powerful black wings, then claws, and a set of jaws opening and clamping down on the owl's neck. There was a horrible cracking noise.
It was a bat.
The bat opened his jaws and the owl slumped lifeless, its wings tangled in the branches. He looked at Shade.
"Are you all right?"
Shade nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, his throat dry. He felt extraordinarily small. This bat was at least four times his size. As if the stone gargoyles really had come to life. The similarity was unsettling. The face was
more beast than bat, with a long snout, spattered with blood, large eyes, and a strange flared nose that spiked upward.
A second huge bat, wings spanning at least three feet across, circled overhead.
"My name's Goth," said the first bat. "And that," he said, with a dismissive flick of his head, "is my companion, Throbb."
"I'm Shade, and—" He broke off and looked around in alarm. "Marina!"
"I'm here," she said, fluttering over and glancing warily at Goth and Throbb. "You okay, Shade?"
"They saved my life," he said excitedly, turning to Goth. "You're from the city, aren't you? You're the ones who killed the pigeons."
"How did you know that?"
"Because they caught us," Marina said, "and wanted to know who you were."
"Did they attack you?" Shade asked.
The giant bat laughe
d. "Pigeons? No. We were hungry." He leaned over the body of the owl and ripped a hunk of flesh from its chest.
Shade flinched in surprise.
"You're not meat-eaters," Goth said with interest, after swallowing the owl flesh in one gulp.
"No."
"You're welcome to try some."
"No, thank you." The smell was repulsive, heavy with blood, and Shade saw Marina take a few steps away from the owl's body.
"Where we come from, many are meat-eaters," Goth explained. "I'm sorry if it alarms you."
"Where do you come from?" Marina asked.
"The jungle. If it weren't for the Humans, we'd be there now. We escaped just last night. Look." He pulled back his wing, and the thick black metal band around his forearm caught the moonlight. Shade sucked in his
breath, and glanced up at Throbb, still flying above them. A band glinted darkly on his forearm too.
"Escaped?" Marina asked, frowning. "I don't understand. "
"You've been their prisoner too, I see," Goth remarked, nodding at her band.
"No. They didn't imprison me. They gave me the band, and let me go, but—"
"They didn't take you to the false jungle?"
Shade looked at Marina, who shook her head, dumbfounded.
As Goth ate, he told them about being captured by the Humans, and the month he spent in their jungle prison. Shade listened intently as the giant bat described how the Humans had flashed lights in his face, stuck him with darts.
"But why would the Humans do that?" Marina asked.
"I think they were studying us. They want our powers of flight, and our night vision. They band us to mark us as their prisoners."
"No," Marina said, so softly Shade almost didn't hear.
He didn't know what to think. Everything Goth said flew in the face of what he'd been told. That the band was a sign of the Promise, a link between bats and Humans, that the Humans would somehow help them. Could Frieda and Zephyr . . . and his father . . . could they all be wrong? He felt sick.
"They didn't take me prisoner," Marina said stubbornly.
Goth shrugged. "They're not our friends, the Humans. And they will be punished," he added darkly.
Three mournful hoots floated through the night air.
"What was that?" asked Goth, his crest bristling.
"More owls," Shade told him. "They're calling for their sentry. They'll come if they don't hear back from him. We should get moving. Which way are you going?"