“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No one moves them.”
“Explain to me, then, why is it we never go the same way two times? It is because…”
“No one moves the bridges!”
“…everything is always changing!”
“Just because you’re an idiot who can’t…”
“Are you calling me an idiot?”
“…keep a straight line in your head.”
“Fuck your straight lines. There’s nothing straight in this thrice-cursed city.”
“You’re the one who’s fucked…wait. Where’s Tierce?”
Barris and Romeric both stopped dead in their tracks and looked back the way they’d come. They had nearly reached the Crow, the highest of the four bridges moored to the Shinetower Stair. It was the quickest route back to Fleuracy House but precarious, especially in the dark. It was not surprising, this late at night, that the stairway that spiraled up the outer face of the rock spire was deserted except for the two young men and Tierce, who had been right behind them moments ago. Now there was no sign of him.
“Tierce?” Barris called out. Then louder, “Tierce!”
The only answer was his own echo.
“Not good,” said Romeric. They shot down the stairs together, retracing their route, hoping they’d find him around each curve, only to get increasingly anxious when he failed to appear.
Romeric reached the next landing first, and he darted out onto the narrow span of the Bridge of Mercies to see if their inebriated friend had wandered that way by mistake. Barris continued down, his jaw clenched tight. The thin rope that ran along the edge of the uneven steps didn’t offer much protection, especially for anyone who had been drinking heavily. All it would take was one misstep and…Barris tried to push the thought from his mind, but couldn’t. It would be his fault if anything had happened to Tierce. He knew he’d had too much to drink, and he should have been paying more attention.
Another turn of the stairs around the spire brought Soz Bridge into view below. It stretched southward across the Cille, lined with archaic statuary and oil-burning torches that someone in the Soz-Yamae family still paid to have lit nightly. At first glance, Barris thought it was empty. But then a flash of movement towards the middle of the bridge caught his eye. He paused to look more closely, and a wave of relief rushed over him as he recognized Tierce wobbling unsteadily away from the tower.
“I see him!” he shouted up for Romeric before continuing his rush down the stairs. The steps wrapped twice more around the spire before he reached the bridge’s landing. By that time, Tierce had nearly reached the far end, where a picturesque arch marked the bridge’s terminus. He had stopped, though, and was leaning against the waist-high railing. No, not leaning–he was trying to climb over!
“Tierce!” Barris broke into a run. By the time he was close enough for the other boy to hear him over the dull roar of the river below, Tierce had managed to sling one leg up onto the railing and was scrambling for purchase to haul the rest of himself up after.
“Tierce,” he yelled again, this time close enough that his shout startled him. He slid from his precarious perch to land on the bridge in a heap. Barris skidded to a stop near him and exclaimed, “What by Sarrel’s twisted tit are you doing?”
It was an indicator of how drunk Tierce was that he didn’t take offense at the obscenity. His startled expression shifted into a smile as he recognized Barris. “I’m fol’wing th’ zwishka!” he answered, and then broke into giggles at his own unintelligible statement. “No, no! Not the zwishka.” With great care, he enunciated the words again. “The zwishka!”
“Great,” Barris exhaled. Five minutes ago, he was had been drunk enough himself that he would have found Tierce’s nonsense amusing. But the sheer panic of Tierce’s disappearance, and the fear he might have plunged to his death off the twisting stair tower, had burned away the remnants of his own inebriation. Now, he simply dreaded the prospect of hauling his drunken friend home.
Romeric caught up with them just then, panting. “Everything is fine?” he huffed. “Tierce, you all right?”
Tierce was struggling to rise, and Barris leaned over to give him a hand. The smell of beer and puke was disgusting, but he managed to get his friend upright. “I’m chasing the zwishka.” He giggled again and swayed precariously on his feet.
“What the fuck is a zwishka?” Romeric asked.
“I don’t know. Help me with him. I don’t think we want to try Shinetower again.”
“Oh, feh! He stinks!”
“Tell me about it.” With one of them on each arm, they managed to get their friend pointed towards the southern end of the bridge. “Time to go home, Tierce.”
“Don’t wanna go home. Gotta get a wish!” With an unexpected twist, he freed himself of their grasp and started to run. Sort of. It was really more of a fast shuffle, but at least he was as headed in the right direction. Swaying and unsteady, he made it all the way to the archway at the end of the bridge before he careened over an unseen flight of steps and sprawled face first into the plaza beyond.
Romeric let out of string of Jurati curses as they watched him fall, and Barris groaned in exasperation. “We’re going to laugh about this tomorrow,” he said, trying very hard to believe it.
“After I punch him in the face,” Romeric grumbled. They smirked at one another in companionable solidarity, then went to pick up their friend.
By the time they reached him, Tierce had managed to roll over and was grinning like a fool. He pointed up at the arch that was behind them now and said, quite clearly, “Wish cat!”
“Wish cat? Is that what you—“
A frightful screech cut off the rest of what Barris was about to say, and the next instant something large and heavy landed on his back. Tierce’s eyes went wide and he heard Romeric shout something, but mostly he was only aware of the spitting, hissing beast that was now on top of him. He dropped under the weight of its impact, knees hitting hard against the stone pavement. Claws, needle-sharp, dug through the fabric of his shirt and he flailed with his arms to try and dislodge whatever it was.
Then, just as fast as it had pounced, it launched itself into the air again.
Romeric moved fast, his sword out, putting himself between the thing and his two friends as it came down in the middle of the plaza. It was a cat, Barris could see as he choked in a breath. But a cat that was the size of a large dog, and glowing. Dusky red light glinted through its bristling fur, shooting sparks and flashes of fire when it moved. Teeth bared, back arched, it whirled to face them with another wild, angry scream.
“I don’t think it likes you,” Tierce said, looking up at Barris in a daze.
The cat charged. Romeric swung his blade in a smooth arc to intercept it, but at the last second the cat…flickered. One moment it was there, and then, with a shimmer of light, it was somewhere else. The sword swished through nothing but a rainbow afterimage.
“Get up.” Barris grabbed Tierce and hauled him up. His back stung and his knees were throbbing, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. As Tierce teetered to his feet, Barris shoved him back towards the arch, one hand on his arm to keep him steady. With his other, he drew his own sword from its scabbard.
Meanwhile, Romeric pivoted to face the cat again, which had reappeared on the opposite side of the plaza. It crouched, tail lashing. Its low growl threaded the air. Romeric didn’t wait for it to pounce this time, but dove towards it, his sword a flash of steel as he closed in to strike. For an instant, it looked like he was going to succeed, but at the last moment the cat sprang to the right, lithely avoiding the blade. Then, with an almost lazy, sideways swipe of its paw, it raked its claws along his right arm. Romeric cried out in pain and dropped his sword.
As the weapon clattered to the pavement, the cat’s cinder-spark eyes fixed on Tierce from across the plaza, and it began to stalk.
Barris was still standing between it and his friend, and he raised his sword defensively. The cat hissed and flexed a paw, extending stiletto-thin claws of glittering crimson. He could swear the thing was bigger now than it had been just a few moments before—waist-high at least, sleek and strong and vicious. He gripped the hilt tightly with both hands and braced for the assault.
“Watch out!” Tierce shouted as he pushed Barris from behind. He staggered sideways just as the cat lashed out and his sword swung wide. But the cat missed, too, and it yowled in frustration, even as it gathered itself to attack once again. Only when he was face to face the the cat himself did Tierce realize his mistake. He backed away in a hurry. Two, three steps…and then he tripped over the low steps under the arch and crashed once more to the ground. The cat sprang, claws outstretched, a feral howl pouring from its throat.
“Tierce!” Romeric shouted, too far to do anything but watch in horror.
Barris didn’t think. With all the force he could muster, he thrust his sword at the beast as it swept past. The blade plunged deep into its middle. The shock of the blow pounded up the length of his arms and hammered the cat, screaming, to the ground. Color blazed through its fur, red flaring into green and gold and violet, coiling together with otherworldly radiance. The creature’s writhing yanked the sword from Barris’ hands and he stumbled back, clear of its thrashing claws. It didn’t stay down long. In mere seconds, it staggered back to its feet and lunged once again for Tierce.
Tierce yelped in fear and tried, awkwardly, to scramble away. Frantic, Barris threw himself after the glowing cat and grabbed hold of the only thing he could reach—its tail. He wrenched it as hard as he could, the memory of the cat’s claws gauging into his back fueling his effort. Hauled it back. Managed to drag it to a stop just inches shy of where Tierce lay. “Move, Tierce!” he hollered. “Romeric, help!”
The cat howled, claws rasping on stone as it struggled to pull itself loose. It was faltering, though. The wound he’d given it had weakened it. The wild colors rippling through its fur seemed more intense by the second. Tierce, roused to near sensibility by Barris’s shout, raised his feet and pummeled the cat in the face with his heels. That cat jerked its head back. Let out a half-strangled wail.
And then, bless the Hands, Romeric was beside Tierce. With his sword in his left hand, he brought the blade up in a swift, sharp stroke. The silver-engraved blade sliced across the cat’s exposed throat.
The cat didn’t bleed, so much as shatter.
Everything in the plaza did too.
It was the opposite of an explosion. Light. Color. Sound. Breath. Thought. Sucked in. Taken some other place where everything was one thing and so nothing actually existed. Barris felt, because all he could do was feel. What he felt was boundless. Chaotic. Energy, clotted with imperfection. Threading through it, the thin pulse of awareness. It—whatever it was—consumed him and became him and disgorged him all at once.
And then it was over. It might have lasted an eternity or the blink of an eye, Barris was never really sure. Only that when he could breathe again, see again, think again, he and his two friends were staring at one another over a shapeless pile of bones and fur that might once have been a cat.
Romeric, breathing heavily, injured right arm tucked against his belly, gestured with his sword at the corpse. Opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then closed it again with a frustrated grimace. Barris understood. There were no words to explain anything that had just happened. Not yet, at least. He climbed shakily to his feet. Pushed aside any thought except the need to get home.
It was Tierce who broke the silence, finally, after Barris and Romeric had helped him get to his feet once again. He frowned down at what was left of the cat, his eyebrows knotted together in dismay. His forlorn whisper seemed loud in that heavy silence.
“I never got my wish.”