Page 33 of Sightwitch
A huff of air in my ear—undeniably annoyed—and the bird hopped off. In four easy flaps, he crossed the river and glided to a stop beside the exit.
Useless.
“Thanks.” I flung him my fiercest glare. Then I stalked back the way I’d come. I fell into a rhythm, moving in time to the constellation skipping song we all learned as children.
Four times, I went up and down the rough riverbank, water sinking deeper into my exposed skin and hair with each pass.
It wasn’t until the fifth pass, as I was aiming away from the falls, that I realized I had the right idea—butthewrong rhyme.
I wrenched about, light spraying wide, as the words unfolded:
It was one of the stranger Rules that Tanzi used as proof in her argument against them. I had always thought it meant I had to stay sharp and aware of my surroundings at all times.
But maybe …
In long lopes, I hurried to the waterfall, then craned my neck to glimpse behind. Right there, impossible to see unless you knew where to look, were stepping-stones.
After tying the lantern to my pack and verifying all my tools were still in place on my belt, I sucked in three deep, bracing breaths.
Then I jumped. Water pelted against me, numbing my limbs. Mist clouded my vision, and for a terrifying moment, I thought I’d missed the stone entirely.
But no. There was solid ground beneath me. I was still, somehow, upright.
I had to swipe water from eyes again and again before I could even see the next rock, and I took at least ten more steeling breaths before I felt confident enough to make the leap.
Hop, hop, skip, skip. Four stones in total before I reached the other side.
There, the Rook waited. He paused his preening just long enough to glance at me, an expression of such deep boredom I couldn’t resist marching over to him andshaking.
Water sprayed.
He hissed and clacked, skittering back. And I laughed—my first laugh in …
Goddess. I can’t remember the last time I laughed. And it felt so good. A light warmth to fizz in my chest. Even as the Rook catapulted onto my shoulder and nipped at my ear, I couldn’t stop giggling.
I had made it.
I had evaded the monster of the Crypts. I had crossed the storm. Now I was moving forward once more.
Just under six and a half hours to go.
LATER — 6 hours left to find Tanzi
My delight over my progress was short-lived. Soaked through from the waterfall, I was all too quickly freezing. All too quickly shivering.
To make my bone-chill worse, ice took hold of the landscape. Hoarfrost at first, a white glaze to coat the stone and mask the wall’s design. Then came icicles, spiking down from the ceiling. Some stretched so low I had to stoop and swirl around them. Shortly after that, there was no stone left. Just a slippery, glistening expanse that tinted my lantern’s light blue.
I was cold. Colder than I’ve ever known. My fingers turned to clumsy bricks. I had to stop sketching in my diary. No more drawing each bend and curve in the halls, each rise and step or intrusion of ice. Instead, I marked numbers of steps and turns.
One hour passed, one flipping of my hourglass, yet it felt like days I tromped forward. One stumbling footstep to the next, counting, always counting. Even the Rook on my shoulder and the pack on my back became distant, forgotten things.
The halls were too cramped to risk a fire’s smoke, so I tried jogging to stay warm—and to gain speed—but after falling twice and almost twisting my ankle, Sister Rose’s voice came scolding through my mind.
“Rule 10, Ryber! Rule 10! What does it say?”
I’d been racing for a seat beside Tanzi in the dining hall. I’d tripped; my bowl of stew had sprayed.
“It’s the Rule of Meticulosity,” I’d answered while sopping up stew with my tunic.
