Mourningbird

by Brock Deskins

  After her near-deadly meeting with the underlord, she hadn’t heard a word from her, not that Nimat was in the habit of dealing directly with someone as low on the food chain as Kiera was. Horned devils did not waste time on insects.

  Still, given their last meeting and then the terrifying encounter with Nimat’s creepy daughter, she had expected something, some indication that Nimat was dealing with either Fred or whoever had attacked her in the warehouse and tried to steal her arcanstone. Since Russel was the one who had it, Kiera was glad that Nimat’s attention appeared to be elsewhere, and anywhere was good as long as it wasn’t on her.

  Kiera could have hired a cab to take her closer to the Thuumian embassy, but she was not accustomed to having money, and she had a difficult time accepting the thought of actually paying for something. Besides, it was rare that she got to travel through Highborn without being accosted or chased off.

  She did not start getting looks until she left Highborn City and crossed into Midtown. While proper masks were not unusual there, they were not common either. What was common were the pickpockets and thieves loitering in the alleys and in darkened doorways. Kiera could feel their eyes marking her as a prize, not only because her mask meant wealth, but her small stature made her appear to be an easy target.

  By the time she neared the area controlled by the Thuum, she had a good half-dozen shadowy figures trailing after her. The confidence she exuded was likely the only thing keeping them at bay. Kiera spotted a pair of men lurking beneath a street light ahead and recognized them as two of Fred’s people.

  She gave the two men a wide berth as she hastened past and ducked down a side street. The men chased after the fleeing highborn in hopes of making some quick money, maybe even a good amount if they could ransom her back to her family. They pulled up short and began searching the empty street. The passage was too long for her to have escaped out of the far end, and none of the few doors opening into the alleyway would be unlocked, so they figured she must be hiding.

  One of the men looked up just in time to see the bottom of Kiera’s foot before it crushed his face as she leapt from a narrow ledge running down the length of the building, separating the first and second floors. The two struck the street at the same time. The thug cried out in pain and surprise. Kiera tucked into a roll, came up in front of the other man, and pummeled his knee with her baton.

  The man’s leg buckled, but he lashed out with a knife as he dropped into a kneeling position. Kiera flipped over the slashing blade, landed behind him, and delivered a decisive blow to the back of his head.

  The second man had recovered and charged with a shortsword held high as his comrade fell face first onto the cobblestones. Kiera was surprised at how quickly and naturally she fell into the forms Surri had taught her in such a short time.

  She had always considered herself a decent fighter, better than average. But what was previously a hectic brawl of battering past an opponent’s defenses was now a series of fluid movements that were almost tranquil, not just in their motions but the feeling in her heart and mind. It was strange to feel almost calm despite being in a life or death struggle.

  It helped that the man was not much of a challenge. He was a brute, his attacks crude and his defense almost non-existent. Kiera could have toyed with him all night, but she had things to do. There were several others trailing her, and she was not so confident as to look forward to that large a battle.

  The nightbird blocked another heavy chop, twirled inside his extended arm, and rained a series of blows with her batons, starting from his thigh and ending atop his head. She went through both men’s pockets, liberating them of their valuables, and gave them each a parting kiss with her batons before using her grappling gun to ascend to the rooftops. She smiled as the group that had been following her entered the alley, stopped, and stared at the badly beaten men. They looked around for the assailant, or assailants. Not seeing anyone, they turned like a herd of rammox that had picked up a predator’s scent and retreated into the night.

  Kiera took the rooftops the rest of the way to the Thuumian embassy, which also served as the residence for Farelle and Darynn Vanos, the former recognized as the Thuum’s leader and the ruler of the fifth great city even though there was no true fifth city. Thuum had been destroyed in the cataclysm; its people, those who did not make the journey to Velaroth, were scattered throughout the wasteland.

  There was a strong movement for the Thuum to leave their adopted home and rebuild their former great city, but Farelle fought to remain. His argument was that there was nothing to return to. The Thuum were warriors and craftsmen. They had little to offer to be considered equal to the other four great cities. Farelle’s opponents claimed his reasons were more personal and selfish. So far, he had been able to sway the majority to his view, but he was losing ground to the separatist movement every year.

  Kiera studied the mansion, a grand home that was completely out of place given its location in Midtown only a few blocks from the Blindside border, from the vantage point of an adjacent rooftop. She scanned the streets below, noting numerous figures lurking within the shadows or trying to appear like casual, late-night strollers as they walked their rounds.

  There was no doubt in her mind that most, if not all, of the people she could see guarded the embassy. The bigger concern was how many escaped her notice. Kiera knew that Russel had techno-arcanist lenses that could dispel the darkness, and she would give anything to have one now.

  With nothing to gain by further delay, Kiera fired her grapnel at the mansion’s chimney stack, ejected the spool from the gun, fed the line through the retraction mechanism, and attached the other end of the line to the roof upon which she stood. Using the gun as a trolley, she sped between buildings and landed on the embassy roof. She wasn’t sure what made more noise, her feet striking the roof or the whir of the line being fed through the gun.

  “What was that?” a voice called out in the darkness.

  Kiera looked past the chimney and saw two silhouettes converging on her position. She slotted the spool back into the gun, triggered the releases, and retracted the cord. The two men padded across the roof and were almost on her. She threw herself over the side of the building, set her feet on the window ledge beneath, and secured herself to the wall with the grapnel.

  She held her breath as she pressed her body as far into the window frame as she could. Kiera did not dare look up, but she could feel the eyes of the two men peering over the side in search of her.

  “You see anything?”

  “Nah.”

  “Probably a pair of mating skitter lizards.”

  Kiera slowly let her breath out as she examined her position. She could see the men stationed on the street and walking their rounds, so she could not go up or down. She reached behind her with her free hand and found the window ajar. Praying that the room was empty, Kiera turned to the side, made herself as skinny as possible, swung open one of the windows, and slipped inside.

  Luck was finally with her as she found herself in what appeared to be an office. Closing the window and shutters, Kiera shone her mage glass light around in hopes that she had stumbled upon the room she needed. She spent several minutes looking at budget and accounting reports, most of which were pure gibberish to her, before putting the papers back where she found them and left the room.

  Kiera stepped into the hall after checking that it was clear. Her eyes flicked from door to door, pondering which one might lead to the room she sought. She chose one based on her gut instinct and years of burglary experience. She had only taken two steps when a voice called out behind her.

  “Hey, stop right there!”

  Kiera cursed under her breath, directing the expletive at the stupid mask she wore. It did not hinder her hearing at all, but its unfamiliarity was distracting, or at least so she told herself. She turned around slowly, her body tense as she expected to get shot at any moment.

  The house guard took one look at her mask and lowered his weapo
n. “I’m sorry, sahma, but you shouldn’t be up here. Are you Darynn’s guest?”

  Kiera ran the name through her head and came up with a thin thread of recognition. “Yes. Sorry. I was just looking for a toilet.” She pointed to a nearby door and headed for it. “Is this it?”

  “No, sahma, that’s not…” the guard exclaimed, and ran after the young woman as she disappeared inside the room. He burst through the doorway and tried to find her in the darkness. “Sahma, this isn’t…sahma?”

  Kiera stepped out from behind the door and clobbered the man on the back of his head with her baton. He folded like a shimmersilk bed sheet and collapsed to the floor. She closed the door behind her with a grudging nod of appreciation for the opportunity her mask gave her. Normally, people just started shooting the moment they saw her, but wearing this simple fashion accessory actually made them pause. Perhaps there was some use to it after all.

  She padded down the hall to the door she had marked as her target before the guard interrupted her. It was locked, but a bit of pin-tickling with her pick and probe got her inside in less than a minute. Her gut told her she had chosen well. The outer office was large and richly appointed, as far as she could discern in the dim light coming through the bay doors at the distant side of the room.

  Another door, deeper in and to her right, opened into a master bedroom. A quick inspection showed that it was thankfully unoccupied. She returned to the office and began going through the drawers, shuffling papers, and giving them a cursory examination under her mage glass torch. Most of the documents appeared to be basic political correspondences, with a few that hinted at talks between Farelle Vanos and leaders of the two opposing Thuum factions within the city. Kiera’s body went rigid at the sound of voices in the outside hall.

  “Isn’t Sah Farelle out this evening?” someone in the hall asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “His door’s unlocked.”

  “Was it locked earlier?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “It was or you think it was?”

  “I don’t know. This place has like a hundred damn doors. I can’t remember the status of every single one of them!”

  “Well, if you’re gonna pick one to remember, you damn well should pick that one.”

  “Screw you!”

  “It has been a dry season for me. Maybe when we’re off duty.”

  Kiera dove under the desk as the first man opened the door.

  “Asshole,” he said as he stepped into the room.

  “Is that your preference, or are you giving me dealer’s choice?” the second man asked from the hall.

  “Smartass,” he replied with a chuckle.

  The guard crossed the room, swiveling his head left and right as he walked to the bedroom door. Kiera shifted slightly in her cramped hiding space beneath the desk, bracing her hand against the wood over her head. Her fingers brushed something that felt like paper. She probed blindly around the protruding corner of the page and discovered a secret compartment. Sliding the hidden panel aside, she found a treasure trove of letters. Unwilling to risk using her light, Kiera trusted that anything worth hiding was worth stealing, so she slid them into a pocket inside her vest.

  The man in the office with her was looking into the vacant bedroom when his fellow guard shouted. “I got a body in here! It’s Bailey!”

  The other man raced across the office toward the hallway. “Is he dead?”

  “No, but someone clobbered him good.” He blasted out a shrill alarm with a whistle.

  More whistles began sounding and radiating outward until it sounded as if the entire district was caught up in a raucous celebration. Not wanting to wait for reinforcements to arrive, Kiera bolted from her hiding place and sprinted for the window. The guard who had been in the room and now stood in the doorway turned around at the sound of her soft footsteps and the balcony doors opening.

  “Hey!” he shouted as he charged after her.

  Kiera caught a brief glimpse of at least a score of figures racing around the street below, before darting through the doors, hopping onto the balcony rail, and leaping up to the crenellation capping the roof.

  She scrambled onto the roof as the sound of the whistles intensified. A trapdoor crashed open, and a man’s head poked through. He shouted his find to his fellows and struggled to raise his musket through the hatch and shoot the intruder. Whatever advantage her mask had given her before was gone now.

  Kiera ran toward the tallest building she could see and launched herself out into the open air. The building across the street was a story shorter than the embassy, which gave her a clear target for her grappling gun. She fired the grapnel in mid leap. Her velocity increased dramatically as she urged the gun to overcome the force of gravity. It was a war it could not win.

  She managed to get enough forward momentum to miss the side of the building and land on the roof, if barely. That same force sent her tumbling painfully across its surface. Kiera could only tuck into a ball and ride it out as the roof left her a mass of bruises and scrapes. Although in pain, she got to her feet before rolling off the far end and resuming her flight.

  More whistles shattered any trace of tranquility. Kiera noted they were of a different tone than those used by the gendarme, and it appeared that the residents of Little Thuum did as well. People began running outside and added to the chorus of noise whenever they spotted her. No wonder the gendarme had few patrols in the area. The entire community acted as its own police force.

  Kiera spied a church bell tower ahead. She sprinted across the roof of the building she was on, launched her grapnel at the tower peak, and streaked upward, putting a little distance between her and her pursuers. Not far away, a bridge spanned the deep channel cutting its way through the city. Water ran through it only a few days out of the year, and it was dry now.

  She fired her grapnel at the side and hurled herself from the bell tower. The gun’s spindle whined as it retracted the cord as fast as it could to avoid allowing any slack in the line, something that could prove fatal given the difference in height compared to her horizontal flight.

  Kiera managed to reel in the line enough to swing under the bridge and dragged her feet across the baked earth in an effort to slow herself down. She played out the line as she began her upward arc in order to maintain a somewhat level course, which further slowed her down before she released the grapnel’s hold on the bridge and went tumbling once again.

  Taking several limping strides toward the steep side of the gully, Kiera targeted the top of a building overhead and once again lifted into the air. The whistles now sounded ahead and behind her and were drawing closer. The building she had used to hoist herself out of the gully was a multi-story tavern. She could hear the sound of music and merriment inside even through the walls.

  Taking a quick look around, Kiera spotted a short window at street level that likely led to the tavern’s basement. A couple of swift kicks broke the latch holding it shut. For once, Kiera was grateful for having a small bosom as she was barely able to squeeze through.

  The interior was pitch black until she turned on her mage glass torch. Typical of tavern basements, this one was cluttered with crates, barrels, furniture, and distillery equipment. Finding a good hiding place behind a piece of equipment, Kiera stashed the papers she had stolen, her counterfeit mask, grapnel gun, and batons. She turned her reversible cloak and trousers inside out to present a different appearance and held her proper mask in her hand, pondering whether it was best to hide it as well and try to pass herself off as a commoner or wear it in hopes of using it to talk her out of any trouble if questioned.

  She opted to wear the mask. Her clothes were too fine for Kiera the nightbird, but perfectly appropriate for Felicity Aylmer, niece of Conner Rey. Brushing away as much of the dirt and dust as she could, she crept up the stairs, peeked through the door at the crowd inside the huge tavern, and slipped into the throng of revelers.

  Kiera was a bit on the short side,
but being in the Thuumian bar, so were most of the patrons. She saw the outside door open and was able to see several men craning their necks to look over the press of chattering heads. Kiera picked a path through the crowd and threaded her way up the stairs to the dance floor above.

  Insinuating herself amongst the dancers, Kiera chose a man without a partner, as best as she could tell with the Thuumians’ energetic dance style, and tried to copy his moves. It was not terribly difficult given that most of the dance appeared to be completely freestyle in nature. She used some of her wind dancing movements to complement her lack of natural ability.

  Her dance partner appeared to appreciate it, or was at least amused as his facial tattoos writhed with his grinning. “What’s a highborn lass doing out slumming it with us savages?”

  “I’m from a settlement outside the city,” Kiera replied, raising her voice above the energetic music. “This is much more my style.”

  “Then why the mask?”

  Kiera shrugged. “Maybe I’m horribly disfigured. Maybe I like to be mysterious. Or maybe I just like to lord my superiority over you savages.”

  The young man tilted his head back and laughed. “My name’s Kaleb.”

  “Felicity.”

  “You have me curious about what’s behind that mask now.”

  “I’d love to show you, but I think the rules say we then have to fight.”

  Kaleb chuckled again. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

  “Me neither, but do you want to take that chance?”

  “I think I’d be willing to risk it,” he replied, and moved closer.

  Kiera instinctively backed away, but before she could do anything else, strong hands grabbed her upper arms. She whipped her head from side to side and saw two men holding onto her with at least two others pressing in nearby.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Kaleb exclaimed, and started to bull forward to intervene.

  The two men not holding Kiera interposed themselves between them, one putting a hand on Kaleb’s chest. “Easy there, kid.” The speaker raised his voice so those nearby could hear him. “Civil patrol. This girl is wanted for questioning for crimes against the people.”