“After the old Sightwitch for whom the Lament was named.” Leopold spoke in a manner that allowed no more questions, and now his gaze had settled on Safi. It razed over her as if he saw something he hated.

She quickly whirled away, pulling again at her collar and sleeves. “Let’s go,” she called. “There’s no time to waste.”

With the Hell-Bards’ help, Safi and Leopold rolled the flying machine into the final dregs of night. Their breath fogged; they had to fight drifts to get the wheels through; snow fell around them. But after much heaving and groaning, they had the Eridysi fully outside and far from any trees.

The deck on the Eridysi, if it could even be called that, was no larger than a river raft. And the balustrade around its edges was entirely too short to do much good.

“You will want to sit,” Leopold said after hopping on board with the Hell-Bards. He handed Safi a pair of flying spectacles like the ones Windwitches wore. He did not offer any to the Hell-Bards. He also did not wait for Safi to pull on the lenses before clasping the tiller and shouting, “Fly!”

The machine obeyed immediately. One moment, the Eridysi was on the ground, surrounded by snow. The next, a great gust of wind barreled into it. The machine jolted. Safi caught herself on her hands. The machine jerked. Safi landed on her back.

The machine flew. A great eruption of air and power that punched through the spiral sail and set it to spinning. Fast as a pinwheel, fast as a tornado. Treetops blurred past and the world expanded around them. Higher, higher. Safi’s ears popped. Cold sliced into her. But the wind never calmed, and the sail never stopped spinning. Snowflakes clattered and clawed.

Safi fumbled on her spectacles. Already, her fingers were going numb.

Despite the snow, the flying machine ascended smoothly. The earth shrank into a white-draped miniature, then vanished from view entirely as gray storm light clotted below. By the time the machine had stopped rising, Safi was upright. Zander too, and she staggered to his side at the balustrade. Steps away, Caden and Lev were huddled close, cheeks red and eyes wide.

“He’s afraid of heights,” Lev blurted at the same moment Caden also said, “She’s afraid of heights.”

“Praga,” Zander called, pointing west, and sure enough, when Safi squinted that way, she could see the faintest darkness sprawled across hills of white. To the east, the Ohrins rose. Craggy, snowcapped, and impossibly high—yet not too high for the Eridysi.

“Hold on!” Leopold ordered. His curls ran wild in the wind. His cloak flapped and billowed about him. When he pushed the tiller to his left, the machine lurched east. No more vertical gains, only a sideways flight that tipped the wooden raft and sent Safi and Zander leaning.