Page 73 of Circle of Death
He’s speaking Mongolian now. It’s not the same dialect I was taught, but I can pick up the gist:What happened here? What happened to my brothers?
The falconer waves his left hand in a circle and points to the sky. His voice is rich and deep. It resonates in the still mountain air.
Maddy elbows me. “What’s he saying?”
“He’s talking about some kind of strange bird. Fat and fast.”
I see Maddy’s mind turning. “A drone.”
I decide to step forward and try my hand at a language I haven’t spoken in ten thousand years. Under its black hood, the falcon turns toward me. The falconer stiffens and sizes me up.
“Öglöönii mend,”is my simple opening.Good morning.I’m holding my hands up to show I’m not armed. I see the rider ease back into his saddle. Then I ask about the building in the valley. It’s like turning on a tap.
The falconer talks fast. I keep up the best I can. I know I’m missing a word or two here and there, but the basics are clear. The factory’s only been there for a few months. It seemed to pop up out of nowhere. One day, the valley was empty. The next day, swarms of trucks and workers showed up.“Shorgoolj shig.” Like ants.A few weeks later, the building was finished.
In my best Khalkha dialect, I ask what the hell they’re making down there.
The falconer shrugs.“Bi medekhgüi.”He has no clue. But he saw the fast, fat birds many times. His falcon wouldn’t go anywhere near them.
Batuhan looks at me, hollow-eyed and drained. He tells me he needs to use our horses to carry his brothers back to the village. How can I say no? But that means I need a new plan, fast. I ask the falconer if he can take my wife back down the mountain with him. He looks Margo up and down, like he’s calculating the weight of a feed sack. He gives a terse nod.
When I translate the arrangement for Margo, she looks incredulous. She comes at me with a hoarse whisper, close enough so Batuhan won’t hear. “You want me to ride piggyback down a mountain with a man and a bird and three dead bodies? There’s no way!”
“Margo, it’s theonlyway. Maddy and I will meet you back in the village.”
“Why? Where the hell are you two going?”
I nod toward the valley. “We’re heading down to check out the factory.”
“Why can’t I come?” Margo asks. “I can hike as well as you two can.”
I glance over at the hooded falcon. “We’re not hiking. We’re flying.”
CHAPTER 89
MADDY AND I stand on the edge of the cliff watching the others start winding their way back toward the village. Then we turn toward the valley. The sun is high in the sky, causing reflections in the river.
I realize that Maddy and I have never shape-shifted together. It’s risky, having two of us in nonhuman form at the same time. I hope Dache taught her well.
“Have you done birds?” I ask.
“Once,” she says. “Red-tailed hawk.”
“Okay. Then you know the drill. Ride the thermals for lift. Tuck in to dive. Watch out for wind shear.”
“I know, I know,” she says impatiently. “You go. I’ll follow.”
I close my eyes and focus my mind. I feel my body shudder and shrink. In an instant, the shift is complete. I sense the wind direction, raise my wings, and launch.
As a saker falcon.
My eyesight is incredible. I spot a rabbit in the grass a mile away. My bird brain pulls me toward the prey, but what’s left of my human cortex overrules it. I feel Maddy behind me now, drafting on my current. Then she shoots past me like a bullet, wings tight to her sides, heading for the factory about a mile away.
She plummets toward the ground and pulls up about a hundred feet above the building. She starts flying in graceful circles. I swoop down and match her pattern. We’re effortlessly in sync, communicating with twitches of our wingtips. Easier than talking.
I circle lower and lower, looking for an opening. But there are no windows, and all the vents are all gridded. As buildings go, this one is virtually bird-proof.
I touch down on the flat cement roof next to a maze of air-conditioning units.
