The Feverbird's Claw Read Free

first time he brought her here. Even now the blackness was like an immense animal pressing against her eyes, but she felt comforted by the narrow tunnel, so different from the high places, the up-swoop of her stomach if she even glanced at the top of the city wall.
    â€œYou must face your fear and overcome it,” Old Tamlin often said, coaxing her to use jutting stones to try climbing a little way up. It was the only thing he had asked her to do that she never could.
    Above their heads people were walking along streets. Silently she counted her footsteps until she was sure they must be under the great wall. Finally, she could feel the tunnel floor beneath her feet begin to slant up. Far ahead she could see narrow threads of dim light. The trapdoor.
    By the time they all were standing in the natural cave, her blood was singing with the pleasure of the risk. She pointed to the small opening where light filtered through green branches.
    The city sprawled like a giant wildcat in a fertile valley sheltered by the four sacred hills. Beyond the hills were uncivilized lands: to the south, the red forest full of savage people and snarling beasts and the yellow-brown sands that sucked all life from travelers; to the east, cliffs and a swift and dangerous river; to the north, the Great Mountains. Old Tamlin had never taken her beyond the cave, but she knew that when they crawled out, they would be on one of the hillsides that overlooked the city.
    At the cave mouth she listened. Not a rustle or a whisper. She wriggled through the opening and used her hands and head to part the brush that hid it. When she was all the way out, she stood in bright sunlight beside a gnarled jamara tree.
    After she stopped blinking, she saw that ten, maybe twelve men and boys from the nearby villages stood on the slope, where the ground was bright with raindrops and with purple-red starfruit that grew on creeping vines. “Come on,” the girl with the belt said, and they all started to run through the wet grass.
    Moralin glanced at their baskets swinging in unison. Full of the giddy joy of the hillside and sunshine and the sweet smell of crushed fruit, she laughed with her new friends. A young man bent to pick a starfruit. He straightened, opened his mouth wide, apparently not caring that they were watching, and stuffed the fruit in. It felt good to stare right at a person’s face. His open mouth became a cave of redness, and juice ran down his chin.
    Without warning his laugh turned into a choking sound. He staggered one step back, pointing at … what? For the second time that day Moralin turned her head at just the right half instant to see her death coming straight at her.

C HAPTER
TWO
    G IANT BIRDS WITH CURVED BLACK BEAKS bounded over the hill’s crest. What kind of bird had a human body? Moralin staggered down the hill, stumbling on her dress. Around her, the air exploded with shouting and screams. A whistling sound cut above the other noise. She turned and stretched out her arms to the man who had laughed so joyously, now falling forward. The weight of his body sent her sprawling backward.
    Hands. Pulling her out from under the man. She fought them off, but there were more, wrapping the velee roughly over her open mouth to stop the screams. What kind of bird had hands? The creature hoisted her, kicking and twisting, onto its shoulder. The last thing she saw of the hillside was the basket tumbling slowly away.
    She expected to fly, but the creature merely ran. The velee wrapped more tightly around her face, blinding her, choking her. She felt a shoulder blade jammed against her ribs, smelled sweat. These were surely no birds. After a while the one carrying her swung her down and forced her to walk. “Mercy,” she heard one of the other girls gasp.
    Carry us, Moralin wanted to command. Where are your wings?
    Behind her, someone began to wail. Come, Moralin cried silently in her mind to the Delagua guards standing just