Skylark Read Free Page B

his head, gazing at it with great concentration. I felt a tingle spread outward from the base of my skull, a lightheadedness that caused my vision to spark strangely and the blood to rush past my ears. Even though I knew what I was sensing could not be true, my breath quickened. Eventually he drew in a breath and then exhaled carefully over the bird, blowing against its wings. I heard a tiny sound, like the ringing of a far-off bell. The paper bird flapped its wings once and then soared in a tiny, effortless circle over the palm of Basil’s hand before gliding over to mine
    I stared in horror at my brother as my spine tingled with the thrill of the forbidden. I’d never seen anyone use the Resource before. It was supposed to be impossible without the alchemists’ years of training.
    “How did you do that?” I breathed.
    Basil grinned at me. “Magic.”
    My mouth hung open. I tried to remember the last time I’d even heard that word. It was strictly forbidden in school.
    He winked, reaching out to tap my chin and close my mouth. “It’s okay to say the word, you know. That’s what it is. And they think they can control it—control us—but they’re wrong.”
    Magic had made the bird fly from his hand. I’d always assumed he was moving the bird like the architects moved machines like the pixies, using a tiny bit of Resource to power something designed for the purpose. But I should have known better. It was, after all, only a bit of folded paper—the wings weren’t designed for flight, the body too fat and the tail too long. There were no gears for the Resource to set in motion. His spell had been effortless—and considerably more impressive than floating a pencil.
    But still not exactly vaporizing a pixie with a single thought.
    I hadn’t touched the paper bird in years, not since Basil had disappeared, but I longed for my brother to walk through the door and tell me what to do. He’d tell me not to be afraid of the pixies, that they were barely more than paper birds themselves, animated by the Institute. He’d tell me my fear was making monsters out of little tin bugs. I didn’t have to let that fear control me.
    I shivered, thinking of my brother’s explanation for his sacrifice. You weren’t made to live in a cage, little bird. That much, it seemed, was true.
    In a city utterly dependent on its every citizen to perform their duties and fit in like clockwork, where was there room for me?
    Cradling the bird in my hands, the tingle of the Resource—of magic, I corrected myself—still coursing through me, I drew a deep breath, willing my pounding heart to calm, and exhaled slowly.
    My breath brushed the bird, stirring the paper wings. It so resembled the moment six years ago when the bird had come to life and taken flight that I caught my breath again, heart pounding. Had I accidentally done it again? The wings stilled, but before I could relax, the bird cocked its little head—and burst into song.
    Three clear notes, and then it dissolved into a fluttering series of chirps that had me scrambling to silence it. I stopped myself before I crushed the thing, but I blew on it frantically instead, praying there was no one in a neighboring apartment to hear it. Birds had been extinct, as far as anyone knew, since the wars killed most animals and twisted the rest.
    At first it shook itself with an air of indignant protest, but after a few more puffs it went still again. My head spinning, I crouched by the couch and listened.
    For a moment I heard nothing. I started to stand up, my legs shaking with adrenaline.
    Then came a pounding on the door. I dropped to my knees. The knock came again, loud and forceful—a city official’s knock. How had they found me so quickly?
    I folded the bird’s wings down flat and then shoved it deep into the pocket of my pants. I scrambled to my feet and stood there, heart slamming against my ribcage. I snatched up a packet of ration crackers from the table and shoved those into my