A Flight of Ravens

by John Conroe

  “Shit, he weighs as much as Cort and me together,” Drew said as they rolled our captive over to remove the darts and bind his arms.

  He was a block of muscle and bone, his hands and feet huge for his height, shoulders as wide as an axe handle, and no neck to speak of. He wore a leather vest and a pair of thick cotton trousers, but no shirt. We were all wearing jackets and multiple layers of wool, as the sea wind was damned chilly.

  “We have to move him fast,” Jella said. “He’ll overheat in that rug and could die.”

  “You have to be spoofing us,” Cort said. “We beat his head with clubs and only made him mad and you’re saying he’ll die of heat exhaustion?”

  “Yup,” she said. “They live their lives in extreme cold—this weather is likely miserably hot for him.”

  “Enough chatter,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  With a grunt, the guys heaved the rolled-up rug to their shoulders and walked around the rear of the buildings to a cart we had borrowed from Freyla and parked in position an hour earlier.

  “Gods, I’m glad we don’t have to haul this lump very far,” Cort said.

  “Except the stairs at the Lobster,” Drew muttered. “That climb is gonna suck.”

  “No, he’s headed for the basement. Freyla has a special room down there,” I said.

  Despite the fact that they wouldn’t have to fight gravity with their burden, neither looked joyful at the news. Special rooms were usually torture zones and no Shadow who works for me enjoys torture.

  I smiled to myself. This would be a chance for the whole team to see the benefits of having an eslling truthteller along. There had been some mild bitching about adding someone more lady than operative. So far, Kassa had endured a tough, fast-paced trip to the mission site without complaint and contributed valuable intelligence about the artifact. I was hoping this interrogation would put paid to any more nonsense from my team.

  In short order, we had both subjects safely secured in separate rooms. The old eslling was bound by ropes wrapped in silk to prevent him using his abilities to either read anything or project.

  The dangerous Nuk was manacled with steel on his hands and feet. Both had been thoroughly searched and each was gagged.

  “Let’s get started,” I said, opening the door to Kazilionum’s room. The rest of my team followed me in, including Freyla, who insisted, as resident agent, in observing.

  The old man’s eyes took us all in, and despite the fact that he literally shook with fear, his gaze was direct and steady.

  Every one of my people wore silk gloves in case they needed to touch him, and at my nod, Drew reached out and pulled the gag from the tailor’s mouth.

  “Mr. Kazilionum, we have some questions for you,” I began. “But first let me introduce myself. I am Captain Savid DelaCrotia, formerly of the kingdom’s Ranged Reconnaissance Squadron, but now engaged in less visible service to the crown. I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Lying to me will be futile,” I said, nodding to Kassa, who sat to my right. “As an eslling yourself, a Knower with the ability to Impress, I’m sure you understand.”

  He glared at me but his nervous eye flick toward Kassa revealed his fear. “Do you understand?” I asked.

  At first, he didn’t change expression or make a sound. But after moment, he finally nodded.

  “He doesn’t fully believe that I am what you indicated. He intends to hold out,” Kassa said.

  “Funny how even well-informed people still fool themselves sometimes, isn’t it, Kaz? Oh, do you mind if I call you Kaz? Your name is just so long, and I have so many questions to get through,” I said. “Anyway, let’s get going.”

  I nodded to Soshi and she unwrapped the necklace artifact from its silk cover and let it dangle in front of our subject.

  “Do you recognize this?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. “Yes, he does,” Kassa said, earning herself a glare from the old man.

  “Did you make it?”

  “He didn’t make the gold and silver part, but he did Impress it,” Kassa said. His glare was looking a bit like dismay now.

  “Did you make this on your own or at the request of Mr. Andru?”

  “No and yes,” Kassa said. “He is paid by his employer, Andru, to make them, but he handles all the Impression details at his own discretion.”

  Kaz was looking mildly ill, but my people were clearly fascinated, as, unfortunately, so was Freyla. I hate giving up Shadow secrets.

  “Does anyone else make them too?” I asked.

  “No, not that he knows.”

  “Where do the little rectangles of gold and silver come from?”

  A bead of sweat trickled down Kazilionum’s forehead but he still wouldn’t talk. I glanced at Kassa, who was silent, and found her frowning. “He’s thinking of needles and thread.”

  “Ah,” I said, nodding. I had watched Brona work with Oscar for years. There were plenty of tricks an unwilling subject could use to slow or obstruct the eslling reader. And there were just as many that the interrogators could employ to defeat the subject’s defenses.

  “Needles and thread. The tools of the tailor. We found a surprising number of hidden needles, and more than a few sharp blades, tucked away in your clothing. Well done, by the way; we took notes. And some of those needles appeared to be coated with interesting substances. We’re pretty certain most of those substances are toxins forbidden by order of the king. Between that and your active subversion, we pretty much legally own you. In fact, the king, himself, gave me direct orders to put down this foreign plot by any means necessary. Which means that I am your judge, jury, and if necessary, executioner. If you know anything about me at all, you will understand that I have no qualms about executing you… if necessary,” I said, pausing to let that sink in.

  “What we’ve uncovered so far is a foreign plot to incite war or insurrection on kingdom soil. At the moment, it appears to be you and a foreign national from the northern icefields—the Nuks—who are behind it. We will question your employer next, but suffice it to say you are in a truly deadly amount of trouble. And it would appear the kingdom may be in a de facto state of war with the Nuks. We’re very well versed in eradicating woldlings, but our shy neighbors to the north will be a new endeavor. How exciting,” I said.

  Two more rivulets of sweat had joined the first trickle, all three running for his bushy white eyebrows.

  “Where do the Nuks get the artifacts?” I asked suddenly.

  “He’s not completely sure but apparently they’ve dug up all kinds of Punished ruins,” Kassa said.

  “Which confirms that the Nuks supplied them,” I said.

  “No!” he suddenly shouted, before regaining control of himself. I just raised both brows and waited. “Yes, the chips, as Andru calls them, come from the north,” he said. “But I don’t know that all of his father’s people are behind this.”

  “Why would you care?” I asked.

  “They are a wonderful people,” he said. “Craftspeople without peer. Artistic beyond anything we could ever hope to be. Shy, yet fiercely loyal. And they are terrible foes,” he warned.

  “He’s lived among them,” Kassa said.

  The old man shot her a glare of annoyance, then shook his head in what might have been admiration. “She’s correct. As a young man, newly ranked as a journeyman tailor, I had ideas of grandeur, of creating the next, best winter apparel. I grew up in Mandrigo, far north, where winters are harsh. Up there, crossing onto the northern ice fields isn’t that uncommon. When the Great River freezes, Mandrigans go hunting. Sometimes whales get too far upriver from the open ocean and the ice traps them. It’s about the only way that men can kill those monsters anymore, although there are records of men hunting whales before the Punishment.”

  “Those earlier whales were much different from the ones today,” Jella said. “Gentle giants instead of the angry armored behemoths of today.”

  “True, good Forester, true,” Mr. Kazilionum said, nodding so vigorou
sly that sweat flew off his head. “It’s still hard for teams of men to accomplish, but sometimes it happens. I traveled with a few whale hunters, testing my designs and refining them. Right up until a wicked storm hit our party unawares. I was the only survivor, but I was hundreds of spans from safety. A party of Nuk ice fishermen found me and took me to one of their communities. That’s where I met Andru.”

  I glanced at Kassa and she nodded.

  “This right here makes you dangerous,” the old man said, nodding his chin from me to Kassa. “Mandrigo is terrified of esllings. I was forced to hide my Talents my whole life, at least until I met the Nuk. From what I understand, Berkette is also disparaging of people with Talent. Yet you have weaponized us.”

  “Actually, I believe it is you, yourself, who weaponized your own talents and created objects of division and disruption,” I said.

  “Too-chay, as the Nuks say. Point to you, Captain.”

  “How do we stop the things you made?”

  “You can’t. I mean, eventually the Impressions that I made will lessen and their effect will dissipate, but there really is no way to just shut them down. And people won’t give them up willingly.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because part of what I did was make them desirable. That’s why people pick them up and don’t put them back down.”

  “So, unless something more desirable comes along, they won’t let go of them?” Cort said, shaking his head and frowning.

  “Something wrong, Cap?” Soshi asked, watching me with concern. I was staring at Cort, my eyes wide.

  “Say, Kaz… How many of those chips do you have in your stockpile?” I asked the old man, an idea forming.

  “Oh, I know that look,” Drew said, smiling.

  “I do too,” Jella agreed. “For several years, I thought it was just gas.”

  “It does look a little painful,” Cort said.

  I gave them all a single-finger salute.

  Chapter 28

  “Mr. Andru, nice to meet you. I’m Savid DelaCrotia,” I said, smiling into the squat man’s glare.

  “He probably can’t get many words out, Cap. Not with that smelly old gag in his chompers,” Cort said. Besides the sapper, Jella and Kassa were the only ones in the room with us. Soshi, Trell, Drew, and Freyla were occupied with other matters.

  “Hmm, I believe you’re right, Corporal. Would you help him out?” I asked.

  “Sure, but if he bites me, I’m gonna slug him one with a hammer,” he warned as he moved to untie the piece of cloth.

  “There ya go. Much better, right?” I asked.

  “Foul piece of cloth tastes like an outhouse,” the hairy man growled, his voice much deeper than you’d expect.

  “Yeah, I think the boys were short-handed and made do with what they could scrounge. What was that, Cort?”

  “A pair of Drew’s old underwear,” Cort said, looking at the gag with distaste.

  “I guess the torture has already begun,” I said with a grin to Andru.

  He grimaced and spat on the ground. “Do your worst,” he challenged.

  “Actually, we’ll be striving for our very best,” I said. “Now then, we’ve had a long chat with your tailor friend and learned a great deal. We’re hoping you can clear up a few of the finer points. For instance, our new friend Kaz feels that the Nuks as a people aren’t necessarily behind your actions. He doesn’t want us to think badly of them.”

  “And, you know, go to war with them,” Cort said.

  “That would be a grievous mistake on your part, manling. My people are warriors without equal,” he said, spitting again.

  “Oh, I’m sure they are,” I said. “But hey, we’re used to fighting stronger, tougher opponents, Mr. Andru. Woldlings being what they are and all.”

  “And look how that worked out,” Cort said in a reasonable tone.

  “You would never find our communities,” Andru snarled. “And if you did, there is nothing you could do to dig us out.”

  “You should listen and think, Nuk, before committing your people to a fight with these folks,” Jella said from her spot against the closed door.

  “And why are you with them, Forester?” Andru asked her. “Your people have always seemed honorable.”

  “As have yours, which is why I counsel you caution,” Jella said. “I am a battlemaster and this one here was, for a time, my apprentice. But he is long past that. Now days, I hang around to see what mayhem he dreams up next. He has something of a gift for it.”

  “He knows that,” Kassa said suddenly. “In fact, he knew the captain on sight because he was expecting him here, sooner or later.”

  The stout block of muscle and bone turned his head on a nonexistent neck and looked at our pretty young eslling with a grimace of shocked horror.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I am,” she said to his unasked question. “He hoped you would show up later, after things here had devolved more.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The conflict that’s created… it’s intended to motivate you somehow,” Kassa said, frowning and tilting her head as she stared at Andru. He, on the other hand, was staring at the ground, his lips moving silently.

  “Did you want Montshire to take a hand against Berkette—or perhaps Mandrigo?” I asked.

  His eyes twitched but he refused to look at me and I started to hear his voice as his muttering got a little louder.

  “The second one,” Kassa said. “Mandrigo.”

  “Why?” Cort asked, baffled.

  “Well, let’s see,” I started to muse out loud. “Mandrigo is bigger than any other country, at least in territory. Like Drodacia and Montshire, it borders the ice fields.”

  “But unlike them, it has access to the ocean coast,” Jella said.

  “Ah, resources—seafood, perhaps?” I said.

  “That scored a hit,” Kassa said.

  “So the Nuks want land with access to unfrozen ocean?” I asked her.

  “Food. It keeps coming back to food,” she said.

  Andru suddenly lifted his shaggy head and glared at her. “Of course it does, you overfed cow! Do you have any idea of how hard it is to feed children on the ice?”

  “Your elders have always been very careful about the birth rate to avoid that kind of problem,” Jella commented.

  He whipped around to stare at her. “Control the birth rate? Do you even know what that means? Do you understand that some babies get to live while others are left on the ice for the white bears to take?”

  “He was such a child, but his father hid him. Sent his mother, who was Mandrigan, back with him instead of sacrificing him to the ice.”

  “Get. Out. Of. My. Head—you witch!” he bellowed loud enough to bring some dust down from the beams overhead.

  “Easily accomplished,” I said to him. “Just tell us the damned story already.”

  He was breathing like a blacksmith’s bellows, his chunky chest rising and falling as he stared at me with his jet-black eyes. We waited. Finally, his breathing calmed and the obstinance left his eyes.

  “She’s already told you the gist of it. I grew up in Mandrigo, but never belonged. People knew I wasn’t born there and knew I was of mixed blood. They made fun of me, ostracized me, locked me out of their society. When I was a teenager, I headed north, crossing the Great River. Found my way back to my father’s caves, to the ice lairs of my birth. I wasn’t truly welcomed there either, at least not at first. Except by my father. But over time, he had me tell some of the others in that lair of the sheer amount of food I had grown up amongst. Even as outsiders in Mandrigo, my mother and I always had plenty to eat. No one starves in Mandrigo—no one.”

  He took a breath. “All of those my father introduced me to had given children to the ice. All of them were angry about it. They talked and talked but could only dream of having that much fish, shellfish, crab, and lobster. Of growing actual vegetables in dirt under the rays of the sun instead of farming mushrooms and fungi in the dark. Th
en one day, a group who had been sent to attempt fishing through the river ice that can be three spans thick found the tailor. And it was I who discovered what he really was, what he could do.”

  “And the chips?” I asked.

  He studied me for a moment. “There is a place, a city of the Punished that had extensive tunnels already in place when the Punishment happened. The city was buried under ice, smothered completely, the Punished in that city dying of cold within a short period of time. We found people sitting at their tables, frozen solid in the act of eating. A few managed to live for a time in the tunnels until their food ran out. The tunnels were a marketplace, mostly of textiles and amazing items of a technology we couldn’t understand. We found several merchants’ stores packed with small devices. Inside each of these handheld machines was a single tiny chip. We destroyed the machines, but the chips were gold. We thought to trade them to Drodacia for food. But as soon as we returned to the lairs, we discovered they had barely any precious metal on them at all. Then the tailor handled one and Impressed it to calm a starving child.”

  “The Nuk have always managed before. What changed?” Jella asked.

  “The weather. Every year, the ice gets colder, thicker, deadlier. The few animals that can live there either migrated away or died off. Even the white bears are few, at least near my father’s lair.”

  “It did that during the Punishment too,” Jella said to him. That caught my attention. The Drodacians had better records of the Punishment than any of the other nations. But she had always refused to talk to me about it.

  “True. But it was short termed, according to our Memories. They speak of just a few short years of sudden unrelenting cold. And that was well into the time of Punishment.”

  “Time of Punishment?” Cort asked before I could.

  “The Punishment didn’t happen overnight,” Andru said with a dark frown as if we were idiots. “It took more than a decade for the collapse to accelerate and finally end in all-out war. The war that sundered the land and left Nengled apart from the rest. During that time, the Nuk prepared, learned, adapted. It was enough to survive, and eventually, for us to thrive.”