Skyline Solstice's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Skyline dropped off Velvet's roofline into Crownfall proper and kept moving east, chasing the last dry hour of her run. Three districts behind her, nine ahead. She was two roofs into a slate stretch when she felt the pressure change against her ears. She stopped on a chimney stack and looked west. A wall of cloud was rolling in over the skyline, all curled masses and pale flashes at the base. Her tiles were dry now. In under an hour they would not be. Slate under rain was a mirror. Grip would go. Footing would go. If she was mid-leap when the first drops hit, she would fall. She had two choices and she hated both. Wait it out on a flat roof and break the unbroken run, or push through and gamble her ankles on wet clay. She was cutting a strap tighter on her shoe when a low voice spoke behind her. "You are going to die up here." Storm Grit stood on the ridge tiles, bandaged hands loose at her sides, yellow eyes fixed on the western sky. Skyline had not heard her climb. "Storm's on me in forty minutes," Storm Grit said. "I came up to get clear of people." She jerked her chin at the clouds. "That one drops hard. I know the sound." Skyline started to answer. Storm Grit cut her off. "There is a covered market three roofs north. Glass canopy. Iron frame. Rain runs off, frame stays dry. You can cross it in the storm if you stay on the ribs." She pointed. "Go now. Do not stop for me." Skyline went. She cleared two gaps at a sprint and hit the market canopy as the first drops smacked the tiles behind her. The iron ribs were narrow and slick with grease, but they held her weight and her shoes. She ran the length of the canopy in a crouch, one hand skimming the frame, and dropped onto a dry service ledge on the far side just as the squall broke open. Behind her, on the ridge she had left, she heard something large hit the tiles and keep moving north, away from the streets. She did not look back. The run was still unbroken. Three districts down. Nine to go. She now owed Velvet a favor and Storm Grit a debt she had not asked for, and the storm she had beaten by one minute was still the smallest thing pressing on her.