A Blight of Blackwings

by Kevin Hearne

  “Why aren’t you ready?” I asked.

  “His tannery needs upgrades. The filter beds are old and need a thorough sifting, and the salt beds need work too. That work is expensive.”

  He wasn’t lying about that. By law, Raelech tanning didn’t allow environmental pollution of the earth or waterways, so tanners had to regularly employ one of the blessed to filter all the metals, salts, and chemicals out of their soils. The weekly work wasn’t costly, because they could recycle a lot of their materials, but every twenty years or upon sale of a tannery, a thorough job had to be done or the tannery had to shut down. That fact had been drilled into all of our brains at the Colaiste. Most master tanners sold their businesses before the second major cleaning was due. This one had received its cleaning at twenty years as required, but that was nineteen years ago. Much of the equipment was thirty-nine years old and needed to be replaced.

  “I think you’ll find the cleaning more affordable than you thought,” Tarrech said. “For you, it’ll cost nothing.”

  He thought we were bluffing and said, “All right, let’s do it.” And so we did. I ran us up there super fast and Tarrech did all the expensive filter work for free—the kind of work that would take a stonecutter days, but a juggernaut could do it in hours with no ill effects.

  The ex-bully had himself a pristine tannery and a bright future at the end of it, and he was weeping in disbelief and joy. He forgave us and we forgave him and wished him well. That was all Tarrech’s idea. He was always more thoughtful than me. So completely easy to fall in love with.

  We shared much more reminiscing before we slept that evening under a starlit, half-moon sky, and it will forever be golden in my memory. But once we got to Mell and reported for duty, Tarrech never laughed again.

  * * *

  —

  The soldiers mustering at Mell were equipped with strange tall shields I’d never seen before, and they didn’t carry their customary cudgels lined with stone. They had long spears instead. These, I was told, were a tactical adjustment to deal with the Bone Giants. Since they just barreled forward in huge numbers and hacked down their enemies with their long reach and powerful swords, we’d give them shields reinforced at the top to hack instead and poke them in the guts. There were plenty of archers in the army too, more than I’d ever seen mustered.

  In addition to Temblor Priyit, there were two other temblors geared up in the same fashion as the soldiers, with tall shields and spears. Priyit was still commander for the operation, however, and almost as soon I arrived with Tarrech, she assigned me to scout the enemy. A run to Möllerud would take a full day, if not more, and then I’d need to sleep in hostile territory before running back.

  “I’ll do that in the morning, Temblor.”

  Both Tarrech and the temblor blinked. She said, “I need you to do it now.”

  “I’ve already run all day to get here, so I require rest.”

  “I require a scouting report as soon as possible.”

  That was all I needed to hear. My suspicions about her were confirmed.

  “Tomorrow is as soon as possible if you want me to do it. If you have another courier on site, you might consider assigning them this duty.”

  Through gritted teeth she said, “Your insubordination is noted.”

  “Very well. Your willingness to exhaust couriers when we are weeks away from engagement is also noted.”

  “Holy shit,” Tarrech said in a tense whisper. I would have laughed at him if I hadn’t seen the temblor clench her fists.

  “Where is this hostility coming from, Tuala?”

  “That’s ‘Master Courier’ to you, Temblor. We are not friends.”

  Her knuckles went white as she glared at me. She was thinking about how if she applied that fist to my head, it would be like taking a hammer to a watermelon. The strength of temblors was truly awe-inspiring. But she’d never be able to touch me and she knew it. “Understood. Answer the question.”

  “I escorted the stonecutter Meara to her exile in Brynlön. I heard what you did in the Granite Tunnel.”

  “I destroyed the invading army.”

  “No, Meara did that. Because you gave her terrible orders and then shouted at her for not being able to carry out those orders safely by herself. You got your entire command killed, refused to accept responsibility for your role in it, refused to sing the Dirge for the Fallen for those poor soldiers, and then took credit for the whole thing like you’re brilliant.”

  “I didn’t sing the dirge because I’m Nentian and don’t follow the triple goddess,” she said, responding to only one of my accusations.

  “I don’t care. You showed no remorse and painted our loss as a victory.”

  “It was a victory!”

  “One that could and should have resulted in zero Raelech casualties from a competent commander!”

  Her eyes flew wide open and she pointed to the exit. “Out. You’re dismissed. Return to Killae for reassignment.”

  “If you send me back to the Triune Council, I’ll tell them what you did and that you’re unfit for command. And they’re going to believe me. They know I’m devout.”

  “Ha! If you were going to do that, you would have already done it.”

  “No, I wanted to see for myself if your judgment was really as bad as Meara reported. And it is. First thing you did was order me to run a dangerous scout with no rest. I’ll report that too.”

  “Go ahead. The Triune already knows what happened at the Granite Tunnel. Both Meara and I were fully debriefed.”

  “I don’t think they got the proper perspective somehow. Meara was in shock and blaming herself during the debriefing, and I’m certain you blamed her too.”

  The temblor cocked her head to one side. “I don’t understand what you’re after here. You want to stay and do what? Disobey my orders?”

  “I want to take orders from one of the other temblors. Give your command to either of them.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “And put yourself on the front line. Your eagerness for battle will be your excuse for giving up command. It will be a path to redemption, like the one Meara is following in Brynlön. Otherwise, you’ll get no cooperation from me.”

  “I don’t need your cooperation, Master Courier.”

  “You need mine, though,” Tarrech said. “And you don’t have it. Not after hearing this. Choose the path of redemption, Temblor Priyit. We will fight side by side, the three of us. We will avenge our fallen and protect Rael.”

  I flashed a small smile of gratitude at Tarrech, but he didn’t see it. His eyes were fixed on the temblor, his expression cold and implacable. It was like we were taking on bullies again.

  * * *

  —

  During my travels as a courier, I’ve come to learn how strange other people think Rael is for our customs regarding the Colaiste. But when I left my home at age nine, I didn’t think it was unusual, because everybody else was doing it. It’s just the way things were done in Rael, and it was viewed as logical: If you wanted your kids to be apprenticed in a profession they’d enjoy, they needed to experience each of them to make an informed decision. And if they wanted to seek the Third Kenning, they needed to know what the risks were and what the blessed of Rael could and could not do. Since not every town could be expected to provide an adequate experience—the resources were simply not available everywhere—it made sense to nationalize the effort to ensure that every child had the same opportunity to seek their own path, regardless of background. Plus, every one of the scrolls of the triple goddess decreed that the faithful should send their kids to the Colaiste, so that tended to end arguments.

  I was the daughter of hunters in Kintael, and Tarrech the son of a mason and a tailor in Randulet. We met by accident on our first day, and each liked the way the other one t
alked. Both of us were from small towns in the hills but our accents and idioms were very different, so we talked a lot to entertain ourselves. But we also felt drawn together as kids from a rural background as opposed to the kids from the big city, whose manners we found lacking and who did not laugh at our accents in a kind way.

  Month by month, we cycled through training in different professions so that we could discover if we liked it, and if not, we could at least respect the work of those who practiced the craft. We got daily training in military exercise too, and years slipped past without either of us expressing enthusiasm for any craft beyond a polite wag of the head and an admission that it was “kind of nice, I guess.”

  Tarrech and I perked up near the end, once we got to meet the blessed and they spoke of what their lives were like. We spent a day with each. A courier took us for a run, which was exhilarating. But she warned us afterward that the life had its drawbacks. More time away from home than in it, for one thing. Long hours alone on the road. Not being able to discuss the work. Not being able to forget any of it.

  A stonecutter built a beautiful statue before our eyes and then said they mostly had to work on walls. Walls were about as interesting to build and repair as they were to look at, which was not interesting at all. And buildings? They were made of walls.

  A juggernaut briefly took on his battle form and then said it was tremendously draining to maintain. “You’ll be invincible as long as the battle lasts, but afterward you’ll be years older and perhaps near death. You will win most any battle but sacrifice your life in the process.”

  And, of course, there was the very real possibility that we’d not survive the seeking.

  After that, on day one of our training by a master clerk, we exchanged a glance that said this was going to be a long month for both of us. There was nothing that sounded as good to us as being one of the blessed.

  “I don’t even have a preference,” Tarrech said. “Any blessing sounds better than any of the professions we’ve tried so far. Well, except maybe for a bard. I’m not a good singer and an even worse dancer.”

  “Anything but a bard,” I agreed. I never wanted to perform.

  I don’t know how I ever summoned the courage to seek a kenning when I could never find the strength to tell Tarrech how much I loved him. As the day of our graduation inched closer and we had to decide whether to seek a kenning or not, I realized I felt much more than friendship after spending years by his side. Hitting puberty probably had something to do with it, but that didn’t make it any less real.

  But he didn’t feel the same. I was his friend, and he spoke openly to me about liking other girls. Saying “What about me?” would not have ended well. I wanted to keep what we had, at least, which was no small thing; friendship and trust are the rarest of gems, as the poet goddess Kaelin says.

  And then graduation arrived during the month of our fourteenth birthday, and I was scared witless. If I became a seeker I might die—or, even worse, become a bard—but nothing else appealed. Even then I was devout, though it was to the triple goddess in general rather than Raena specifically. Being blessed by any of them would be an honor.

  But I was simultaneously scared for Tarrech. He was going to be a seeker too, so he might also die or become a bard. And if he did emerge blessed, then he’d return to Randulet to join Aevyn, the girl he liked, who’d apprenticed to an herbalist the month before.

  I thought that if we were both blessed, following him there instead of returning to my hometown, as many kids did, would be a pretty obvious indication that I had more than a Colaiste friendship in mind. Which meant that graduation was the end of our time together no matter what happened. I went to my seeking with puffy, watery eyes from weeping all night and morning. Everyone thought I was worried about dying.

  Tarrech gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead right before the seeking. I didn’t have a courier’s memory yet, but I still remember that perfectly.

  * * *

  —

  Temblor Connagh, an affable sort with a full oiled beard that he’d somehow styled into little waves—he must spend a ridiculous amount of time grooming it—took over command at Temblor Priyit’s request, since she wanted to fight on the front line. With that settled, I ran to Möllerud to make sure the Bone Giants were still in residence and that the route was clear. They were, and it was.

  The march to liberate Möllerud began the day after my return. Tarrech was exhausted by a steady stream of soldiers who wished to meet him and say a few words about how honored they were to march with him. He replied that the honor was his and smiled back at them all, unfailingly gracious, but I saw the tension building in his shoulders, the hunching underneath the weight of their adulation.

  “Why don’t you let me shoo them away politely?” I asked him.

  “No, it’s important to them. A thing they have to do. A thing I’m obliged to accept.”

  “Nonsense. You’re not obliged.”

  “I feel that I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Put yourself in their position. If someone saved your life, would you not want to thank them?”

  “Well, of course. But you haven’t saved their lives.”

  “Not yet. But they suspect that I will. And if not them, then some of their comrades. And perhaps their families, who might be next on the Bone Giants’ list of massacres. They must thank me now because they might not get to later. So I must in turn allow myself to be thanked. They might not be saying those words, Tuala, but that’s what they’re doing. Thanking me in advance.”

  I merely nodded in reply, mulling it over. After another pair of soldiers came up to speak of how honored they were, I saw the truth of what Tarrech said. It was in their faces: They were honored, as they said, but not so much as grateful, which they didn’t say.

  “Did you ever expect our lives would come to this, Tarrech, on the day we went to seek a kenning?”

  “Not this specifically, no,” he replied. “But something like this, yes. They did their duty and warned us at the Colaiste. I walked into it anyway, just like you did.”

  * * *

  —

  The source of the Third Kenning is an unusually deep and wide patch of quicksand near Goddess Lake. Seekings are held once a month, when each new cohort of students graduates from the Colaiste either chooses a master or says they’d like to be a seeker. The kids who want a master are sent to one in their hometown, if at all possible, so that they can easily reunite with their parents and resume or rebuild that relationship. The seekers are sent to a building on the west side of the quicksand at dawn, pointed toward a building on the east side, and told to walk there through the quicksand. If they make it, they’re blessed.

  Normally, crossing quicksand isn’t something a body can manage. It’s a colloid that basically sucks you in up to the waist and then you’re just stuck, because your body density is lower than that of the colloid. At the same time, the sand or silt has formed super-dense areas around your body, and to move through it you have to apply enough pressure to reintroduce water into it and break it up, which becomes close to impossible after a while. Sinking and drowning, a fear that many people have, isn’t really a danger. The danger is simply never getting out. People die of exposure or thirst.

  The quicksand around Goddess Lake was different.

  It would let you walk and keep walking while the depth increased, sand squishing between your toes. It was like thick water more than a resistant medium, until you got to about four feet deep. For shorter folks, that was pretty much up to the neck. Things got interesting right around there. The going got tougher, and the depth increased. You had to walk in until you were completely submerged, then one of two things happened: You’d be able to continue to walk forward with the bottom supporting you, propping you up, with only a short time spent holding your breath before you emerge
d, spluttering, or you’d be trapped underneath, the colloid suddenly solid, and nothing you did would ever get you to the surface again.

  Seekers of the Third Kenning enjoyed a success rate higher than any other: 60 to 65 percent made it to the other side. The rest provided outstanding fertilizer for the plant life resting on top of the quicksand.

  Obviously, I made it across, but I didn’t know that I would when I was walking into it. They had us sort into different dressing rooms, which were really undressing rooms, because we were asked to disrobe and then walk out one at a time when they called us. We were not supposed to ask if anybody we knew had made it across or if the person before us had made it or not. When I stepped out of the dressing room, I was alone, except for the elderly woman who escorted me out and gave me a chance to change my mind. She’d watch me walk into the Goddess Sand, as it was called, and either live or die before she brought the next seeker out.

  “So, uh, I just go now?” I asked her.

  “Yes, sweetie.”

  “Is there anyone watching on the other side?”

  “No. There are no windows there, nor over here. That’s by design. You just walk into the dressing room. They’ll be waiting for you.”

  It was a disorienting moment, to think that my last human contact might be with this stranger or that my last words might be about whether someone could see me naked, so I said something else.

  “Goddess keep you safe.”

  “And you, sweetie.”

  And then I did it. I made it all the way across the Goddess Sand, which was super cold and gross. And when I got to the other side, I felt less elated that I had made it than worried that Tarrech may not have.

  A woman who could have been the other one’s twin was waiting in the dressing room. She directed me to a shower to wash off the sand and slime, and then she asked me to remove my Jereh band. Once that was gone I felt really naked, self-consciously rubbing at the skin where it had been, a slightly lighter brown than the rest of me.