Page 91 of The Simurgh

But still.

Silas was asking him to fly.

‘This is quicker than climbing down, and easier. I’m not going to let you fall, Pitch. You trust me in that, don’t you?’

Of course he did, and besides, Pitch was so plastered to the ankou it was highly unlikely a legion could peel him away.

But still.

Silas wanted him to fly.

‘You are certain you’ve done this before?’

‘I have. The kite is quite magnificent really.’

‘How many times.’

Silas hesitated, and Pitch’s stomach flipped. ‘Fuck, you’re lying to me.’

‘I would not do that. But I’ve flown only once.’

Pitch moaned and bit at Silas’s shoulder. Terrible idea, for all the mud on his clothes. He spat it out.

‘Let’s search again for the entrance to the stairs.’

They hadn’t considered it prudent to ask Macha how to get out of the chamber, before she left the land of the living, and the tower did not reveal its doorways, no matter how many stones they touched on, how many walls they banged upon.

‘We’ve spent too long on that already.’

It was so irritating, the way Silas kept his tone even, calm and unflappable. This was a very, very flappable moment.

‘Try the raven again, then.’

The bird sat in a fluffed-up ball beside the dead sorcerer, looking all but dead itself. The animal had barely opened an eye when they’d gone near it. Certainly hadn’t squawked instructions.

‘The bird was Macha’s creature, and even if it were not dying too, I doubt a field mouse’s soul able to give us much aid. We shall leave Gladstone be.’

The scythe at the ankou’s finger busied itself with a transformation, running from his fingertip and out into the open air. The rope hardly looked suitable to cling to, and the kite attached far too basic.

‘That will never hold us.’ Pitch tried to press in closer. ‘Look at it. It’s like something a child would make.’

Not entirely true, the sleek panels of silver were as wide as Silas’s chest, which was admirably broad, but it was half the ankou’s height in its length, and the thickness of the metal no more than that of a small boat’s sail.

‘Best we don’t insult the scythe, my dear.’ Silas wrapped his arm back, cupping Pitch’s arse, giving a cheek a soft squeeze. ‘I’m going to move us on now. The first drop may seem frightening, but you will never leave my grasp. Do you understand?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, the bastard.

Silas stepped off the edge.

And the first drop was fucking terrifying. The air roared at Pitch’s ears. He buried his face in the ankou’s dank hair, and was not ashamed of the scream that pressed at the back of his teeth.

Damn all heights to the deadlands of the Hellfield.

‘You shall never fuck me again,’ he hissed into Silas’s ear. ‘Never, do you hear me?’

As the endless fall continued the ankou laughed. A rumble that made his whole body vibrate, deep and powerful as a bear.

The drop ceased with a jerk, and a soft grunt from Silas. They drifted, ever downward, but less like a stone dropping, and more like a feather swaying gently side to side.