“said Fever, through the gag. “Fetch help!” “Snacksies!” said the angel once more. Then one of the men on the steps threw a stone and a curse at it and it spread its wings and heaved itself clumsily into the air. “Snacksies!” Fever heard it call, and a white splash of excrement broke on the rocks a few yards away. She listened to the wingbeats till they faded, wondering if it had understood her, if it was flying to find help. Maybe the patrons of some mid-levels taverna were listening to its gar...bled story even now and going, “What’s that, boy? Someone’s in trouble? Up on the cliff?” The rails were shuddering steadily now, and she could hear the mumble of metal on metal, the squeak of individual bearings in the house’s undercarriage as it came closer. I’m going to die, she thought, but she couldn’t seem to make it mean anything, she couldn’t really believe that in a few minutes more she would be nothing. That was why people believed in gods and afterlives, she supposed, because it was so hard to imagine yourself just gone.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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