A Blight of Blackwings

by Kevin Hearne

  She looked up at me and smiled shyly. “You may have noticed I am younger than you.”

  A difference of four decades was difficult to miss. “I did notice that, yes.”

  “Owing to my youth, from time to time I’ve found my orders disobeyed. Whenever it happens, I seek to know why. Sometimes it is because they simply thought they could get away with it—that I would not notice or wish to make an issue out of it, to keep the peace. Sometimes there is genuine ill will behind it. And sometimes, as in this case, it is because I have given orders I shouldn’t have. I should not have demanded that you come here first before seeing your husband.” She placed a hand over her heart. “Please accept my apology, Scholar Vedd.”

  “Of course, Mistral Kira.”

  “I do not have a lover, you see, or anyone whose care supersedes that of Kauria. I forgot that almost everyone else does. It would be good to remember that going forward, and I will attempt to incorporate policies in our forces that take that into account as we move to what may be a war footing. Gentlemen, will you consider family issues next and how the military might aid those left behind, how we might allow families to keep contact with our forces abroad, and so on?”

  The two priests agreed, and she asked them to excuse us. “Please inform Teela Parr to wait five minutes, then bring in the other scholar.” Once they left, it was only the two of us in the Calm. Her posture slumped a bit and her smile was more radiant. She flicked a finger at my tunic.

  “You put on something that approaches cleanliness this time.”

  “Well, like you, I am trying to improve myself.”

  “You don’t have to do that for me, Gondel. May I call you Gondel when we’re alone?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. Call me Kira. No, see, I love it when you come in here in front of all the fancy pants looking like you got attacked by condiments and barely survived. In hindsight, I realize you may not have been aware of how much I enjoy your audiences—I teased you a little the first time, and I apologize for that too. It’s priceless, the look on the courtiers’ faces when I take you completely seriously. It reminds them that they don’t know everything.”

  “Who are the fancy pants again?”

  “Everybody is fancy pants here but you. That’s not an insult, Gondel; I like you far more than I like them. Now, listen, we have just a few minutes before we have to be formal again, so I’m going to lay it out for you quick: I’m under a lot of pressure to launch a preemptive strike against Ecula.”

  “A strike? So…that means, then, that you’ve found their islands?”

  “No.”

  “No? But how can you strike if you don’t know where?”

  “It’s being sold as a seek-and-destroy package. And before you say that Kaurians going to war sounds like a breach of Reinei’s principles, believe me, that’s been discussed up and down. The priests of the gale have a bit of a schism brewing, in fact. The argument in favor says that limited, preemptive action will preserve peace in Kauria and doing nothing will bring war to our shores. Therefore, the peaceful solution is to go to war.”

  “Have they also claimed that up is down and the Tempest of Reinei is a light breeze?”

  Her eyes widened. “I know, right? Thank you!”

  “On what intelligence are they basing the assumption that war will come here?”

  “The scholar we brought in during your absence claims, after extensive conversation with Saviič, that Kauria is Ecula’s next target and the invasion could come anytime. Before making any decisions, I wish to make sure that we’re hearing Saviič properly.”

  “Who is this new scholar?”

  “You’ll meet him in a moment. I need you to be my second opinion, Gondel. Watch what you say and who you say it to. Report your findings only to me. That means, explicitly, do not report anything to Teela or entrust anything in writing to any of the palace staff. Request audiences with me instead. If anyone—Teela or anyone—says I can’t see you, do not give them any message except that you need to see me. Understood?”

  One of the doors to the Calm opened and the chamberlain stalked in, followed by someone I couldn’t make out. I bowed, returning to formality. “Yes, Mistral Kira.” I had no idea what kind of intrigue I had stepped into, but I didn’t like it. Leave town for a couple of months and a nation of peace is talking about starting a war with Ecula, with whom we’ve had no official contact? Madness.

  The scholar soon revealed himself, and then much of the source of the madness resolved in my mind: It must be his fault. The supercilious sneer of Elten Maff the Impossibly Tidy slithered across my eyes, and I struggled to keep my face still.

  I should have known it would be him. Fifteen years my junior, he’d ascended to dean of languages at the University of Bauer, where he waited for me to publish something and then criticized it. Occasionally, he published something of his own and I congratulated him for figuring out something I’d realized ten years before. I never trusted him, because he was too neat and impeccably groomed. Evilly handsome, down to the villain’s mustache and dimples, he dressed in clothing that could not possibly be bought on a dean’s salary. Fancy pants indeed. He even had one of those little shoulder capes on one side that served no purpose but to look fabulous. Maintaining that sort of appearance took time away from scholarship. There were at least two other scholars of the old language who I thought would do a better job than he, but I understood why Elten got the nod. He made more noise.

  “Mistral, I’ve brought the scholar as you requested,” Teela Parr said.

  “Yes, thank you. Scholar Elten Maff, you know of Scholar Gondel Vedd.”

  “I do.”

  “Please confer with him regarding all you have learned in your conversations and allow him to see your notes.”

  “My notes?”

  “Yes. You must have kept records of your conversations with the Eculan prisoner.”

  “Of course,” he replied, but I knew from the strangled sound of his voice that he had next to nothing.

  “Teela, Scholar Vedd is to have whatever he needs, no questions. And if he wishes to see me, he is to be brought here without delay, regardless of what else I’m involved in. Inform the windguard.”

  “Yes, Mistral.”

  “Thank you all. I trust you’ll be able to begin straightaway, since the zephyr is waiting to hear.”

  That was our dismissal, and Teela led us from the Calm to the dungeons without saying a word to me. After giving her the slip at the docks, I would be privy to no more comfortable chats in the parlor with teas and orange cakes. She left instructions with the windguard at the dungeon that I was to be given whatever I wished and allowed free rein in the Calm and departed without farewell. I had truly burned a bridge there.

  That left me alone with Elten Maff, who’d held his tongue to this point, enjoying, perhaps, the awkward silence.

  “Your notes, please,” I said.

  Maff snorted. “Hello to you too, Scholar Vedd.”

  “Yes, Elten, my personal faults are legion, and I’m sure you’d love to list them all for me. But I’ve been brought back here at great urgency and the mistral said the zephyr is waiting for some reason, so can we skip all that and move along? Your notes.”

  “Well, ah. I don’t have them with me.”

  “Please fetch them. I’d like to begin there.”

  “I could simply tell you what Saviič said.”

  “Simply? Please do.”

  “He said Kauria is Ecula’s next target.”

  “He flatly stated that Kauria is Ecula’s next target, or was this your inference?”

  “It was…inferred.”

  I had inferred the possibility earlier but had never phrased it as anything but a possibility, never a certainty. “Do go on, Scholar Maff. Tell me precis
ely what Saviič said, in Uzstašanas, that allowed you to infer that Kauria is next.”

  “Well. Ahem. Ova zemlja bi mogla biti sljedeća.”

  His pronunciation and syntax were atrocious, and I was a little surprised at first but realized what had been happening: In his written criticisms of my work, he had plenty of time to consult texts—or maybe even have someone else consult them on his behalf. He’d never spoken aloud in front of me before. I didn’t consider myself fully fluent, but I was a stone’s throw away and could make myself understood easily by Eculans. Elten Maff’s proximity to fluency was more like several weeks’ hard ride.

  “He did not say that. What you just uttered was nonsense.”

  Maff’s face purpled. “I translate the written word better than the spoken. But in essence, if they don’t find what they’re looking for in the north—some sacred ship that missed its last rendezvous—then they’ll look here in the south. And the way they look, as we’ve seen, is by killing everyone.”

  “And did you present the information that way to the mistral, or did you tell her that he said Kauria is Ecula’s next target?”

  “I…don’t recall.”

  I’m sure he did recall but realized that he was about to admit to a rather egregrious error. “Hence the need for notes. If you will fetch those for me, please, I’ll be waiting.”

  Elten Maff blinked a few times before pointing a finger at the ground. “You’ll wait here?”

  “I’ll be in the dungeon with Saviič.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yes, by myself. I survived such times before you got here, and I daresay you managed it in my absence, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “But what?”

  He broke eye contact, looking down and away, obviously disturbed by something and wishing to object but unsure how to do so plausibly. Eventually he decided to say nothing. “Never mind,” he muttered. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll be sure to take excellent notes of my discussion for your review,” I said. He didn’t like that, and he scowled at me before taking the stairs up. I nodded at the guard, who nodded back, and he unlocked the door for me that led down a hallway to Saviič’s cell.

  The Eculan prisoner had filled out somewhat in my absence and his sunburn had fully healed, and he now had his copy of Zanata Sedam, which he was reading when I stopped in front of his cell. He raised an eyebrow in surprise at my appearance.

  “Hello, Saviič,” I said to him in his language, taking a seat at the table outside his cell. The paper, quill, and inkpot I’d left behind were still there, but now they were dusty, having been untouched all this time. “You are well?”

  “Yes.” He did not inquire after my well-being. “Where is the other man?”

  “I sent him to fetch his notes of your…talkings.”

  “Talkings?” He taught me the Eculan word for conversation, then said, “He took no notes of our conversation.”

  “I thought so.”

  “He told me you were coming. Told me not to talk to you.”

  “That’s interesting. Did he say why?”

  “Said you lie.”

  Audacious of him. “I have not lied to you, Saviič. I kept every promise I made to you. You hold it in your hand.”

  “I know. That is why I talk.”

  “Did you tell Elten Maff that Ecula will attack here next?”

  He frowned. “No. I say maybe. I say it is possible.”

  “Is that because you must find the Seven-Year Ship?”

  “Yes.” Well, I had an answer for that, and I realized I had yet to tell the mistral or anyone about it.

  “Thank you. I’m just going to make a note of that.”

  Saviič chuckled ghoulishly as I dipped my pen into the inkpot and carefully wrote out my two questions and Saviič’s answers in both Eculan and Kaurian. That would be written proof that this was all a misunderstanding, and if Elten Maff wished to dispute my translation he could have at it.

  Unless it wasn’t a misunderstanding at all. What if there was something willful behind it? This pressure to turn a peaceful nation to war—that couldn’t be coming from Elten Maff.

  I am slow when it comes to politics but realized that it could only be Zephyr Bernaud Goss behind it all. He had waved the faintest puff of pressure Elten’s way, and Maff had bent right over. And, most likely, Elten had gone to fetch the zephyr rather than his nonexistent notes, which meant that I too would shortly be subject to such pressure.

  I was alone down there. Guards would do whatever the zephyr told them to do.

  “Please excuse me,” I said to Saviič as I finished up the lines, replacing the quill. “I will return to talk more later. It is good to see you again.”

  The Eculan grunted and returned his attention to his holy text. I rose from the table with my copy of Zanata Sedam in one hand and and waggled the paper in the other a little, to speed the drying of the ink. Nodding my thanks to the guard outside the dungeon, I took the steps up to the ground floor and heard booted feet clapping the stone, coming in my direction. There was a low voice and then the nasal tones of Elten Maff, indistinct but recognizable. I did not want to see them. I hurried into a privy, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I could, and listened at the door. Soon they passed and Maff was saying, “She told him he could have an audience with her whenever he wanted.”

  “So he’ll ask for one right away as soon as he feels threatened,” a bass voice rumbled, and I knew it was Zephyr Bernaud Goss.

  I felt threatened already. Once I heard their boots descending the stairs, I snuck out of the privy and hurried to the Calm. They would discover my absence in a minute, perhaps less. I wished I had the knees I had thirty years ago and could achieve a speed greater than that of a dyspeptic tortoise. Not that I had ever been cut out for feats of athleticism, such as running for my life.

  Raised voices floated to my ears from behind. Someone was very unhappy not to find me.

  Was it too late, I wondered, to begin a new career in sprinting? I applied myself to a feasibility study.

  What I managed was something akin to a jerky waddle, undignified even for a penguin, and it required no outside panel of jurists to determine I should not attempt to make a career of it.

  I heard boots stamping back up the stairs. By Reinei’s wind, they were chasing me! They really did not want me talking to the mistral. Which only made me wish to do so more urgently. I turned the corner that led to the Calm and waved at the guard standing by the door. He shifted slightly upon seeing me, distributing his weight evenly. Guards tended not to look favorably at anyone rushing in their direction, even the elderly.

  “Hold there,” the guard called.

  “Scholar Gondel Vedd to see the mistral,” I wheezed as I approached, slowing somewhat. “The chamberlain must have told you I’m to be given audience?”

  “Scholar Vedd? Yes, I was just told.” The windguard stepped aside and hauled open the door for me. Beyond, I could see the Calm and the raised dais of the mistral, though I could not see her since we were behind the throne. Just as I passed the threshold, Zephyr Bernaud Goss rounded the corner behind, shouting for me to be stopped.

  “Mistral, I have urgent news!” I shouted. “The Eculans will not attaggggh!” The windguard’s hand hooked the back of my tunic at the neck and yanked. Hearing my distress, Mistral Kira whirled around, peering back at us, and saw me being detained. She flew from her dais to me on a gust of summoned wind, her blue-and-white dress billowing around her.

  “Unhand him at once!” she commanded, and the windguard obeyed. Zephyr Bernaud Goss barreled into the room, Elten Maff behind him.

  “Mistral, this man should not disturb you, he’s wasting your time—”

  “It took only two quest
ions to determine that we are safe,” I said, extending my notes to her. “I came here to tell you immediately.”

  “That’s preposterous,” the zephyr spluttered. “Safety cannot be determined by—”

  The mistral held up a hand to silence him, her eyes scanning the paper. When she finished, she looked up at me. “I see that invasion is not so imminent as I was led to believe.” Her eyes cut to Elten Maff, but she continued before he could interject. “Am I to understand it’s still possible, though?”

  “Only in the sense that anything is possible. It is unlikely in the extreme, Mistral. For I have intelligence to share regarding the Seven-Year Ship, which I did not have time to share before.” Her haste in getting me to the dungeon made perfect sense now. She hadn’t wanted the zephyr to have time to interfere. “The Brynts have found it.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s in the Mistmaiden Isles. They found it just before I boarded the ship home, and they entrusted me with the intelligence. So, you see, if Ecula knows where it is—which is far, far away from here—they have no reason to attack us.”

  The mistral sighed in relief. “Zephyr. I can give you a definitive answer now. You are hereby ordered to cancel all plans to attack Ecula. Reinei is the wind, and we may all breathe his peace. Defense of Kauria remains your sole responsibility.”

  “But—”

  “Contact with Ecula will be made via diplomatic, not military, channels, so you won’t be needed.”

  “This is—”

  “You look upset, Zephyr. Perhaps you would benefit from talking with a priest of the gale.”

  “No, I—”

  “I insist.” She turned to the same two priests who had been with her before. “Gentlemen, please escort the zephyr outside and counsel him until you’re satisfied that he breathes Reinei’s peace again.”

  When he was gone in the company of the priests, she beamed at me. “My gratitude is boundless, Scholar Vedd. You have done your country a great service. Please go home and enjoy a well-earned rest, but return tomorrow morning after breakfast. For now, I have some words to speak to Scholar Maff.”