A Flight of Ravens

by John Conroe

  The girl froze, her whole body tense, then she slowly turned her head and spotted me by the entrance. I nodded and waited. She didn’t glance around as most operatives would, instead holding my eyes for a moment while Trell spoke rapidly. After a moment, she nodded, eyes still locked on me. Now I approached the table. The owner started to intercept me, recognized me, but stopped when I waved him off.

  “Hi. Kassa, is it?” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting.

  “Captain DelaCrotia,” she said, her tone extremely cautious.

  “Please call me Savid. We’re just hoping for a moment to chat. Your friend Trell here spoke for you, but I wanted to meet you myself.”

  She nodded but didn’t speak, her eyes flicking side to side.

  “It’s just the two of us. No one else,” I said, knowing she would Read the truth of my words.

  She looked at Trell, then back at me. A microfrown flashed across her pretty brow. “You have a Finder?” she asked.

  “You are adept at hiding,” I said, not fully answering her question.

  Sneaking up on a Reader is hard. Trell had told me what she had said when my murder had rescued him from a questioning that she had been hired to help out with. Our standard anti-eslling shielding techniques had worked fine, removing our minds from the bodies around us. But they had also left a kind of blank hole in the thought patterns of people around the building where he was being kept. Kassa had actually detected those blanks. Kind of extraordinary, really; I doubt even Oscar would have noticed that. So we had used a slightly different approach today, bringing two of the girls from the Knife and Needle as cover, like we were on dates or something. A bit of playacting to keep our minds focused on fun thoughts, even as I followed the traces Kassa had left on the mug and perhaps on Trell himself.

  Terry and Corell were enjoying maple sugar treats at the confectioners across the street, neither of them ever knowing our mission, which left only two minds to alert Kassa. Trell, at my suggestion, had concentrated on the words to a song he was composing while I ran a list of financial numbers through my head as we got closer to Kassa’s spot.

  “Captain, may we offer you something?” the owner asked, having decided he couldn’t ignore the opportunity. In a lot of ways, being out of favor socially had been a boon to my true trade as a Shadow. Being a minor celebrity in Haven has numerous downfalls.

  “Just caffe, if you have any fresh, good sir. We will only be intruding on your lovely customer for a few moments,” I said.

  He nodded and backed away, picking up on my desire for privacy.

  “I would have been fine without your personal attention to this,” Kassa said, eyes locked on me like I was a death rattler.

  “Ah, but I wouldn’t. I have two purposes for meeting you, Kassa. First, I wanted to make my own determination of your sincerity, despite Trell’s generally excellent judgement.”

  “Generally?” she asked.

  “He can be swayed by a pretty face,” I said with a shrug.

  “I am sincerely sorry to find myself on the wrong side of the crown,” she said, putting much emotion into her words.

  “I believe you are, which brings me to my second purpose. A job offer,” I said.

  She froze again. “One that I can’t turn down?”

  “Nope, not at all. I would love to have you assist me in protecting the kingdom and the crown, but you are completely free to turn me down. However, you will need to be absolutely certain you don’t fall in with the wrong crowd again. The crown believes in second chances—but not thirds.”

  “Was Trell offered the same option?” she asked.

  “I’m guessing you already know the answer,” I said. “But everyone’s circumstances are different. He wasn’t as lucky as you.”

  Trell shrugged. “It is my honor to serve the crown. Pays well, and the benefits are great.”

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You really believe that?”

  “We’re defending the kingdom and yes… Savid takes really good care of his people. My profession and training make me snoopy. I snooped too much, but I’ve always wanted to serve my country; that’s why I became a bard in the first place. This not only makes that possible but at a level I would never have dreamed of. Plus, I’m at the center of so much history being made that my songs will be famous forever.”

  She sat back, eyes moving from him to me and then down to her mug. “I make a good living doing what I do,” she said.

  Ah, negotiations—excellent. “You’ll find that we pay well too and provide innumerable benefits.”

  “And by that, he means both the actual and implied support of the crown, as well as actual monetary benefits,” Trell said. “Expenses paid, allowances for equipment, in some cases room and board. We have our own healers who can tend wounds and ailments, and over time, ownership in businesses run by our organization.”

  “Equipment? I don’t really need any of that, now do I?” she asked, her manner mildly dismissive. I caught the fact that she didn’t mention the expenses, healers, or business opportunities in the same manner, nor did she ask for explanations of them.

  “Your dress is very nice, by the way,” I said. It was burgundy, tailored of fine wool, and set off her black hair and creamy white skin in excellent fashion. Her lips were the exact same shade of red as the dress.

  “Thank you?” she questioned.

  “Not inexpensive. Dressing well to fit into the places we would want to send you costs money, but is necessary, just as Trell must have the proper quality instruments to play where he plays. We would reimburse you and you would, of course, keep the clothes.”

  Her right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Kassa liked quality, as shown by her clothing, choice of restaurants, and even the manner she held herself. She could easily mimic the customs and manners of the nobility, and probably enjoyed doing it.

  “I don’t expect you to answer right away. It’s a decision that has consequences. If you join us, you would be expected to keep sensitive information from all others, even if you left our employ.”

  “I can join but never leave?”

  “I just said that you could leave… you just can’t tell, sell, or trade our secrets. We can’t have that,” I said.

  “And you found me easily this time, so I would expect you could find me again,” she said, making it a statement.

  I nodded. “Listen, I have places to be. I’ll leave Trell to explain more as well as buy your meal,” I said, rising just as the owner approached with a tray of mugs.

  “I can’t stay, good sir, but my associate will join the lady for dinner,” I said with a smile. He simply nodded and put Trell’s caffe on the table.

  Outside, I collected Terry and Correll from the candy shop, each brushing bits of maple sugar off their hands and dresses. Correll had a small cloth sack in one hand.

  “We picked up some for Brin and the others at the Knife,” she said.

  “Good idea. Let’s head back. Trell will stay behind.”

  “Okay,” Correll said. “And we decided that anytime you need us for this kind of undercover work, we’re ready to help out.”

  “Oh, so you’ll help when the job calls for eating delicious food, but not when things are dirty and uncomfortable?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah,” Terry said, with a glance at her coworker. “We prefer the food to dirt. Wet and cold are out too.”

  I was pretty sure they would help under almost any conditions, but they weren’t Shadows and it would be wrong to use them as operatives. But this little outing had worked perfectly.

  We were almost to the Knife and Needle when another female approached, this one wearing the skins and weapons of Drodacia.

  “Hi, Jella,” my companions greeted her, moving on ahead as I slowed down. Meeting away from the Knife and Needle meant she wanted a really private word.

  “Battlemaster,” I greeted her, which caused an eyebrow to raise. I’m generally not all that formal with her these days.

  �
�We have an issue,” she said. “Yawl caught the scent of a woldling outside Haven’s walls. We tracked it but it’s extremely cagey—and all by itself.”

  “You’re sure there are no others?” I asked, regretting my words as soon as I said them. Her look of disdain was the only answer I was likely to get. “How did you lose it, then?”

  “It actually covered its tracks: traveled on rocks and by waterways as well as high in the trees.”

  “What?” I asked stupidly. It was just that woldlings are many things: dangerously strong and fast, deadly fighters, and ferociously aggressive. But they weren’t crafty and cunning. At least not usually. In fact, the only one I had come across like that was the one silver-furred female we had tangled with in Pit.

  “It’s not her,” Jella said, reading my expression.

  “Another eslling woldling?”

  “There is no sign of Talent, Savid, just very good woodscraft and intelligence,” she said.

  “What path did it take?”

  She understood my question. “It’s circled Haven at least twice, pausing to watch the city numerous times. I think it’s trying to find a way in.”

  Woldlings could sneak, they could ambush, and even evade when they were scared enough to run. But undetected infiltration? I had never seen it. Woldlings could and would scale a wall and kill guards before attacking a town or city. But they weren’t spies, or operatives like RRS. Their ingrained aggression made that degree of patience impossible… or at least it had so far.

  “I don’t like this… new smart woldlings or woldlings with eslling talents,” I said.

  “The silver one was extremely unique, more valuable than that woman Lash,” Jella said, “which makes me think she is one of a kind. This one is different. It’s careful and smart. We found one deer carcass, hung up in a tree. The sign showed it had returned to the carcass several times to feed, rather than try to kill another deer.”

  Woldlings are not great hunters, at least of natural-born animals with excellent senses and hard-won wariness. They have no ingrained hunting instincts, just what they learn from each other, and usually they die too young to learn and teach a great deal. They also don’t plan. This was like an entirely different kind of woldling—seemingly capable of planning. And for it to evade both Jella and Yawl for several days was incredible.

  “There was a report of a pig taken from a Drodacian farm. Just one pig, and the farmer couldn’t identify the predator,” I said.

  Her single brow raised again as she thought about it. “Where?”

  “Almost directly between here and Sylvania,” I said.

  “I left Yawl outside; she’s following it. But I want to get back out there, so you need to ratchet up the Shadows and alert your princess.”

  “The Shadows are already on the alert, just for different reasons,” I said, then explained Lady Rubella Dominick’s code phrase attempts.

  She stared at me, her tricky mind deep in thought. “You might need more candidates for the Lash to query,” she finally said.

  “That’s what Brona said. The sticky part is that her imprisonment is a secret. Even the king’s council doesn’t know about it. Believe me: There would be noise if the High Families found out.”

  “Well, there’s your answer… leak the info and see who insists on seeing her,” Jella said as if it were obvious. “If she’s wrung out for intel, use her for bait.”

  “The dry goat gets tethered?” I asked, throwing out a favorite Drodacian saying. Goats are a favored livestock in that rugged mountain country.

  “Of course. You’re going to eat the goat, anyway. Might as well lure in the little wolves before you start the roast.”

  “Hmm, that idea has merit, although it’s not without risks,” I said.

  She cuffed at my head but I leaned back, my eyes watching her torso to pick up on any other potential strikes.

  “You must always take risks,” she admonished. “Now, I must liberate supplies from your cook before I head back out.”

  “Talk about taking risks,” I said.

  “Truth. Your Brin is fierce with her cleaver.”

  Chapter 7

  “Savid, dear. You came,” Mother said, finding me within moments of my arrival.

  “Family duty, Mother, and all that,” I said.

  “Bumppets! Since when did that matter?” she asked. My mother knew me too well.

  “In truth, Brona insisted,” I said. “She said that it was an important event and if she was representing the crown, then I could damned well back her up when she faced the DelaCrotia wolves.”

  My mother laughed. “That sounds like her, although I think she is easily capable of facing all of the DelaCrotia men at the same time,” she said. Then she leaned close. “Athough, rumor has it that the crown has imprisoned Lady Dominick. She might face some venom without her father here to back her up.”

  “She has plenty of antidote, Mother,” I said, refusing to bite on her bait. “Ah, here comes the proud father of the hour.”

  My brother, Gracid, was arrowing straight for us, a smug look on his puffy face. Heads turned as other guests settled in to observe our meeting.

  “I’d ask you not to encourage the servants, Mother, but I see this one is transporting fine jewelry beyond his worth,” my brother greeted us as he stepped close, his eyes locked on my chest where the Kingdom Cross hung on its blue and white sash over my formal attire.

  “Isn’t this what you wear to a one-month-old’s birthday?” I asked.

  “But whatever will you wear to the next one?” a new voice asked. My other brother, Tallen, had joined the fray.

  “Anything but that,” Gracid said, frowning. “Really, Savid, must you upstage your own nephew’s naming day?”

  “Ah, but I was commanded to appear for the honor of the clan,” I said. “Bearing all trappings of family status.”

  “Why are you all clumped up together… you should be treating with guests,” my father interrupted. “Ah, Savid. Good; you wore the damned thing for once.”

  “We just all gravitate to Mother,” Tallen said offhandedly.

  “Well, gravitate to the damned guests,” Rucian DelcaCrotia said. “This gathering is costing a ton of good steel. The least we can do is work the crowd. Gracid, come talk with Bishop Miller so we can get this show underway.”

  He led Gracid toward the head of the Church of the Apostle of the Punished, who was honoring the family by blessing Ircian on his name day.

  “Play nice, you two. I must greet Lady Olden, who is much distraught at the news of Lady Dominick,” Mother said, sweeping away in a cloud of perfume.

  I turned to my second brother, finding him staring at me with a hard look in his eyes. It disappeared almost as soon as I saw it, but I swear for a moment he was either angry with me or hated me, or both.

  “I trust you enjoy your freedom from the reins of duty,” he said.

  “You imagine me to be free of duty?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Oh, don’t spout off about that duty to the crown nonsense… We all have that. I’m talking about the bonds of family obligation that Father so neatly released you from,” he said, waving a hand as if to sweep away my life’s obligations as inconsequential.

  “You only have a family to be obligated to because the Paul’s been kept from feeding this entire lot to his pets,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “Ouch. I think I fanned a coal,” he said with a languid smile. “Enjoy the refreshments, Savid. I’ll make sure the servants keep your cup full.” He moved off as if he were scraping me from his presence like horse dung from his shoes. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to come to this damned thing.

  People nearby were staring at me, but they looked away when I looked back at them. Then a commotion near the ballroom door captured everyone’s attention. Brona had arrived, fashionably late as always. She had explained the lateness to me once, long ago. She’d said that royalty needed to arrive last to allow everyone else time to get to the gathering,
gala, or party, as arriving after the crown was a grave breach of decorum.

  She came through the door in a whirl of activity, shining in a white dress with dark blue accents that drew the eye and almost made you miss the tough Wenkroy warrior by her side and the small form of Rose, who wore a dark blue dress with white accents. My first thought was that I had tried to protect Brona and ended up getting her an accessory for her wardrobe. But I shook that thought as I watched how closely Rose was watching the people who approached Her Royal Highness.

  First in line were my father and eldest brother. Rucian said something that I couldn’t hear that made Brona’s smile tighten, even though he wore a smile of his own. Even money that he had greeted her, complimented her looks, and then slid in a comment about Lady Dominick.

  Beside my father, Gracid stiffened slightly, then waved his wife, Camella, over with the baby, Ircian, in her arms. Bishop Miller trailed along behind her, as he had no doubt been going over her lines for the ceremony. Camella was pretty and petite, but not the sharpest pin in the pack. Her family were important traders in foodstuffs and spices but had fallen on bad times. Father, sensing weakness, had arranged the marriage and thus gained control of their valuable networks and resources.

  Brona exclaimed exuberantly over little Ircian, who I had to admit was kind of cute. Must take after his mother.

  Kiven Armstrong wasn’t far behind Bishop Miller in greeting the princess, and I saw Rose tighten up ever so slightly.

  “Somehow, I think this is easier for me than you,” a familiar voice said next to me.

  “Lord Sampson,” I greeted him. “I’m told that family can be rewarding… I’m just trying to figure out who is offering the rewards and how much they want for them.”

  “Now, now, Savid. Surely not all of them are so onerous?” Lord Sampson admonished.

  “Oh, no. My mother and Jolanna are treasures, but I wouldn’t turn down a little treasure for some of the others,” I said.

  He happened to be taking a sip of red wine and almost choked on it. I patted his back as he sputtered a bit, waving a hand at the few faces that turned our way in either concern or annoyance.