Silver Ravens

by Jane Fletcher

  Lori let herself be steered from the common room and up a flight of stairs. A door closed. Sounds softened.

  “Here, you can lie down.”

  Lori’s legs touched the side of a wooden frame. A soft mattress lay on top. She sat down on the cot and started loosening the heavy belt around her waist. At a touch on her right foot, she cautiously peeked through her right eye. Tamsin knelt before her, untying the shoelaces. Once belt and boots were gone, Lori swivelled around and lay flat. Now she could risk opening both eyes.

  She was in a small room, lit by soft candlelight. The walls were either painted panels or plain, rough cut timbers. The ceiling was too dim to show much difference between eyes. Despite the bedding feeling crisp and clean, this was most likely illusion, but she did not dare check with her right eye. She would sleep better not knowing.

  Tamsin sat on the side of another cot, a few feet away. “How do you feel?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Tomorrow morning, we’ll just walk around town. You’ll find it easier if you only have one eye open at a time, but you need to keep switching between them.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Something odd.”

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  “Sorry. Mostly, what you’ll see when you switch eyes is that the world looks a lot nicer with the illusions. But if Nysian’s in town, he’ll be trying to stay hidden. Any illusions he casts won’t be simply putting a pretty cover over crap.”

  “He might make himself invisible to other boggarts.”

  “Exactly. And that’s about it.” Tamsin leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Would you like me to stay or go?”

  “Stay.” Lori spoke without thinking.

  “All right. Anything you’d like to talk about?”

  You. This time Lori was able to keep the thought to herself.

  The attractively painted panels that were not there surrounded the row of three pristine, soiled bunks. The filthy, polished floorboards gleamed in the pathetically cheerful candlelight. Her stomach did the worst sort of cartwheel. Tamsin was the one thing in the room that was unchanged.

  “You know about me splitting up with my last girlfriend. How about you?” There. She had said it.

  “You really want to know?” Tamsin sounded amused.

  “It’s only fair, since BH spilled the beans about me.”

  “BH didn’t say much.”

  “Is there anything you’d like to know?”

  “Is there anything you’d like to say?”

  “Not really. It wasn’t the world’s most exciting relationship.” With someone who very definitely was not the world’s most exciting woman.

  “You were together a while?”

  “Four years.”

  “Why did you stay that long?”

  “I thought it was what I wanted.”

  “And what do you think you want now?” Lori was not sure she could answer that question, even to her own satisfaction. “We were supposed to be talking about you.”

  “If you want.”

  “I saw you one night, on a balcony at the rear of the keep.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I’d finished work for the day and was standing outside, admiring the sunset. You were on a lower balcony with Queen Rianna.”

  “We meet to discuss things from time to time.”

  “It seemed like a very…informal meeting.”

  Tamsin gave a bark of laughter. “So that’s it. You want to know if we’re lovers?”

  “You can tell me to mind my own business.”

  “But you’d like to know?” Tamsin’s smile broadened. “We were, once upon a time. But it’s been over for years. The queen needs heirs, and enough of them to cover accidents and things. She has commitments, responsibilities, a realm to govern. She can’t be seen to have favourites, especially not human ones. We both knew that from the start. It was fun while it lasted, and has left me with nothing but good memories, and a lot of affection for her. Does that answer your questions?”

  “I was just being nosy.”

  “That’s all right.” Tamsin stood. “But if it’s okay with you, I’ll go down and check how the others are doing. You should try to sleep. The effect of the ointment won’t be so raw once your body has adjusted to it.”

  Lori lay staring at the shadows on the ceiling. She had some answers, but did Tamsin’s attachment to the queen make any more sense? The woman Tamsin described bore no resemblance to the royal bitch in Caersiddi.

  * * *

  “Ready to move on?”

  Lori took another deep breath before answering Tamsin’s question. “Yes. I think so.”

  The body lay in an untidy heap at the end of an alley. Green blood pooled under the smashed skull and soaked into the boggart’s ragged clothes. It was the third murder victim they had found that morning.

  “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the hunt we’re on?”

  Shorty gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah. This is just boggarts being fucking boggarts.”

  “And we don’t need to tell anyone?”

  “If the guards checked every killing in Mud Town, they wouldn’t have time to take a crap.”

  “What will happen to the body?”

  “Probably get eaten by something.”

  “Rats?”

  “Maybe.”

  Lori did not ask what the other options might be.

  They left the alley and continued along the street. Tamsin and Shorty matched pace with her on either side. Finding murdered boggarts was the last thing Lori needed. The disconnect between her eyes was making her nauseous. Just as well she could not smell the rubbish covering the ground. She stopped, hand pressed to her mouth, hit by an urge to gag.

  The moment passed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a wimp.”

  Tamsin put a supportive hand on her arm. “You’re doing well.”

  “Am I?”

  Shorty was first to answer. “Better than me. I always puke my guts out when I’m eyeball.”

  “I might yet do that.”

  “Just let me know first so I can jump out of the way,” Shorty said.

  “Will do.” Even in her current state, she was becoming more at ease with the Silver Ravens. Finn was the only person showing little sign of thawing towards her.

  The road ended on the fishing quay, where the arm of a sea wall cradled a small harbour. Piles of nets and lobster pots were dotted along the dockside. King Segann’s compound overlooked the scene, from its hilltop roost.

  Lori stared at the horizon, waiting for her nausea to abate. Sea and sky were two things unchanged by illusion. Shorty stood at the water’s edge, breathing deeply. Fresh air must be very welcome, since he and Tamsin had no other respite from the stench.

  Tamsin stayed at her side. “If you want, we can go back to the inn and take a break.”

  “I don’t need wrapping in cotton wool. We need to find Gilwyn, and I asked to come along.”

  “I wouldn’t have agreed if I thought you’d hold us back. You’re not. You’re coping well with playing eyeball, and you’re quick on the uptake. You’ve got more to offer the Silver Ravens than just sniper skills.” Her tone was supportive rather than flirtatious.

  “Thanks.” Lori kept her eyes out to sea. Even if Tamsin’s words were open to interpretation, in her current state, romance was the last thing she was ready for. Puking on a first date was never a good look.

  With her left eye, a few small, brightly painted, fishing vessels were bobbing in the water. With her right eye they looked like death traps. “Are those boats seaworthy?”

  “Not especially.”

  “What happens if they sink? Do the sailors have the illusion of not drowning? Would that save them?”

  “No.”

  “Does nobody care?”

  “Apart from them?”

  “Somebody must miss them.”

  “They’re boggarts.” Tamsin shrugged.

  “
That means their lives are worthless?”

  “Don’t try applying human morals to them—it doesn’t work. They don’t think like us. When we get back to Caersiddi, sit down with one and try explaining the concept of theft or murder. They just don’t get it. They’re incapable of valuing any life other than their own. Boggart lives are short and cheap. They spawn and die like rabbits. How old do you think King Segann is?”

  “Fifty-five, sixty, something like that.”

  “No. Mid twenties. He’ll be doing well if he lives another three years, even if he doesn’t get bumped off.”

  Lori gestured at the boats. “Isn’t a king supposed to protect his subjects?”

  “Don’t be silly. Even human kings on Earth never bothered much about their subjects. Segann keeps order and makes sure things are ticking over smoothly. He’d prefer his people are happy, because there’s less risk of them causing trouble. But he’s not like Queen Rianna. His only concern is keeping his own arse on the Mud Throne as long as possible.”

  So, completely different then?

  It was a reminder that Tamsin belonged to Rianna, heart and soul. Even if the existence of zombie slaves was hidden from her, Tamsin had no qualms about supporting a queen who had overthrown and murdered her own sister. She was indifferent to the pitiful status of boggarts, unconcerned by the total absence of justice and democracy, and happy to take part in kidnapping innocent computer programmers.

  Lori clenched her jaw, hit by the thought that she too was working for the queen. Admittedly, her sanity was at stake, and Gilwyn was just as bad as his aunt. But had he been a kind, innocent soul, would she still have helped hunt him down? How hypocritical was she in criticising other people’s ethics?

  Tamsin gave a sweep of her hand, taking in the entire dockside. “Between reality and illusion, is there anything out of place here?”

  “Nothing leaps out at me.”

  “How about the boggarts?”

  “They’re the same. Maybe a bit cleaner. The guards are bigger, more muscles, longer teeth.”

  “More intimidating.”

  “Yes.”

  “Segann wants them taken seriously.”

  She studied the harbour for another minute. “Nope. Nothing.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they reached the frenetic maelstrom of the main market. Images of a termite mound came to mind as Lori studied the scene. Her nausea had subsided, but the effort of comparing reality to illusion was taking its toll, and the riot of noise and activity would have been daunting, even without the need to reconcile two versions.

  “Is it all right if I sit for a bit?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she plonked herself on a low wall at the shady side of the market square. The day had heated up and sweat trickled down her back.

  Shorty sat beside her. “It’s about lunchtime, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

  Tamsin nodded.

  “Are we going to eat here?”

  “No. We should check in with Widget. Finn should have reached Wydlow a couple of hours ago.”

  “How will he report back?” Lori asked.

  “Battery powered, shortwave radio—when it works. Annwyn plays havoc with the signal. The connection will pop in and out at random. That’s why Widget has to permanently monitor things. We don’t want to miss messages.”

  Depending on which eye Lori favoured, the rows of stalls looked like either a holiday fair or a mouldering junk yard. The chaotic flow of boggarts was unchanged though, whichever version she considered. Except…

  She closed one eye and then the other.

  “Have you spotted something?” Tamsin had noticed her actions.

  “Someone.”

  “Who?”

  “By a stall, five back on the left. There’s a boggart I can see with my right eye, but not with my left. That means he’s using illusion to hide from other boggarts, doesn’t it? He’s thin and…oh.” The scrawny boggart had calmly slipped a bunch of carrots off the stall and put them in a sack. “He’s stealing food.”

  “Indeed he is. I think we should have a word with him.” Tamsin pointed to a narrow passage leading away from the market. “Shorty, take the bolt hole.”

  “Right, Captain.”

  “Lori. Stay here. If he runs towards you, shout and move to your left. We want to herd him into Shorty’s arms.”

  “Okay.”

  Tamsin and Shorty faded into the crowds, crouching down to boggart height. Meanwhile, the thief was headed to another stall, festooned with strings of either plump or greasy sausages, depending on which eye Lori used. Regardless, the sausages were not served to humans in Caersiddi, which was probably a bad sign.

  The thief was ducking and weaving around the shoppers. They could not see him, which left him at risk of being trampled. Given the surging crowds this took his total attention. He negotiated the gap between a stack of crates and an overladen porter.

  “Hey, you! Thief! Stop.” Tamsin’s voice rang out. Her head appeared above the surrounding melee.

  The boggart did not wait to see if he was the thief in question. He fled in the opposite direction, straight towards Lori.

  “Stop right there. I can see you.” She sidestepped to the left.

  The thief changed direction, and charged headlong down the passage.

  Tamsin cleared her way through the boggarts. She beckoned as she jogged past. “Come on.”

  Even before entering the narrow passage, Lori heard the hysterical screeching, echoing off the walls. The thief was face down on the ground, pinned in place, with Shorty’s knee in his back.

  “So. What have we got here?” Tamsin asked.

  “I don’t know, Captain.” Shorty hauled the thief up by the scruff of his neck. The boggart’s feet did not touch the ground. “What does it look like to you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, sir, please.” The boggart was crying. Tears dripped off his bulbous nose.

  “What next, Captain? Do we hand him over to Segann’s guards?”

  The boggart’s sobs changed to a squeal. “No, no, no. Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

  Tamsin pulled a length of cord from a pocket. “First we’ll go back to the inn and check in with the others. Then we’ll see what this thief has to say for himself.” She tied his hands behind his back as she continued talking. “Who knows, he might even have something interesting he’d like to share with us.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Widget adjusted the dial with the air of a bank robber trying to crack a safe. “There. Got it.” He looked up. “We’re through.”

  Tamsin leaned over the mike. “Finn, are you there?”

  The speaker whistled and popped, and then his voice broke in. “Here, Captain.”

  “Anything to report?”

  “Nysian’s deputy confirms what we were told. One day he was here and the next he wasn’t.”

  “No talk of strangers in the area?”

  “None, but—” A lengthy burst of crackling drowned out Finn’s voice. “—can track down.”

  “Finn. We missed most of that. Can you repeat.”

  “No strangers. But there are rumours of odd things going on in an outlying village, and there was also a mass killing there at—” Pop, pop, pop, pop. “—he went missing. They might be connected. It has the boggarts spooked.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “We’re about to head over and see what the truth is. Hopefully, BH can make sense of it.”

  “Good. Let us know what you find out.”

  “How’s—” Screech. “—hunt going?”

  “Lori found us a sneak thief. We’re about to ask him a few questions.”

  The boggart in the corner of the room whimpered.

  “We’ll check in when we get back.” Finn’s voice faded in and out.

  “Right. We’re—”

  A rising howl made Tamsin lean away from the speaker.

  Widget shook his head. “Gone.
”

  Lori was finishing her lunch while listening. She put down her knife and pushed the empty plate away. “Does that count as significant? The bodies turning up?”

  “Probably not. Boggarts have a tendency to kill each other over nothing—as you’ve seen. It’s probably a family squabble got out of hand.”

  Widget gave a snort. “Like that isn’t what we’re dealing with now.”

  “True. But when royal families get out of hand it’s all a bit stickier.” Tamsin turned to the boggart in the corner. “The question is, can our thief tell us anything useful?”

  Shorty grabbed the boggart’s ragged shirt and hauled him into the middle of the room. “I’m not holding my breath, Captain.”

  “Me neither. But you never know.”

  The boggart made a pitiful sight, curled in a tight ball, as if hoping he could make himself so small he would disappear. “I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Please.”

  Tamsin was unmoved. “I don’t care whether you’re sorry. To be honest, I don’t even care about you stealing. It’s not my problem. I’m just wondering if there’s anything you can say to make us think twice about handing you over to the guards.”

  The boggart wailed pathetically.

  “No. I don’t want to hear you singing. And stop acting stupid. I want you to talk to me.” Tamsin grabbed a fistful of lank hair and tugged his head up, so she could stare into his face. “You’re not the one I’m after. You’re too young. But you’ve got the strength at illusion to hide from other boggarts. I want to know if you’ve spotted anything new in town. Things other boggarts can’t see.”

  “I’m nobody, madam. I can’t do nothing. I’m just hungry.”

  “And if I hand you over to the guards, by the time they’ve finished with you, you’ll never be hungry again. Stop snivelling. Talk to me. Tell me something that will make me want to give you another chance.”

  The boggart gulped and tried to wriggle away, but then went so limp Tamsin might have been holding a sodden, understuffed toy. “A few days back, someone new came to town. Someone powerful. I felt them in the weave near my home. They’re so strong, I was scared, so I moved away.” The boggart’s face crumbled. “Please, madam. I’m sorry. I won’t go back to the market. I’ll leave the traders alone. I promise.”