Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1)

by Melonie Purcell

  Krea smoothed out her shirt, patted her full belly, and smiled. “My thanks, Lord Sorin,” she told her image in the elitist accent of the rich. “I bid you safe journey on your quest to see the elders, and may all of your questions be answered.” With a giggle, she headed for the window. She was only one floor up, an easy drop. In the muted light of the predawn morning they would never see her slip out, and the cover of forest was just a short sprint away. Better yet, she noticed that the window shutters swung in absolute silence on their hinges when she closed them to block out the chilly night air. Now the only trick was to wake up on time.

  When Krea finally fell into the stuffed bed, she wondered if she would ever get out of it. To the best of her memory, she had never slept on a bed that sat off the ground before, and it took all of three seconds to decide that there was no better way to sleep. The fluff from the mattress wrapped around her in a gentle hug, and the caress of the soft, warm blankets lulled her to sleep. Her last thought was a half-hearted decision to sleep on the floor instead of the seductive bed so she would be sure to wake up in the morning, but the thought was quickly lost in the luxurious embrace of the mattress.

  ###

  As the sunlight inched up the Bothri Mountains, Sorin watched the shadow slip over the window’s edge and drop to the ground with ease. All he could do was shake his head as Krea fled into the still-dark woods. Oh, he could have tried to stop her, but what was the point? She was going to do what she was going to do, and the best way to handle someone like her was to wait it out. Unfortunately she didn’t have a lot of time, and the reception of the villagers was going to be much more hostile than she imagined.

  “Never trust a thief,” Kole muttered, glaring at the running silhouette.

  Sorin turned to his steward. The man’s tone was as sour as ever, but his expression told a different story. “Tell me, Kole. Would you starve or steal?”

  “I’ve done both, and there ain’t no honor in either one.”

  Sorin had to laugh. “You sure are a grumpy old coot.”

  “Speak for yourself, Sorin. All old men are grumpy, and you are fast becoming an old man even with the magic to protect you.” Kole stabbed his spade into the ground and finally turned to face his friend. “So you really mean to ride for Shaylith?”

  Sorin nodded. “Today.”

  “Are you going through Sra?”

  “I wish I weren’t. She doesn’t have the time. But I sure can’t imagine taking her through the Nayli.”

  “You got no sense if you go cutting through the Nayli.” Kole adjusted the handle so he could lean on it, and then gave Sorin a hard stare. “That ain’t no small undertaking, even for a man half your years. And with all the rush to make it to the royal wedding, you'll be lucky to find supplies and stabling on the way. What is it that’s so important?”

  Sorin pointed to the empty window that Krea had just dropped out of. “That was not just any thief. She’s a kyrni and she has no caller. She’s in trouble. The elders need to be consulted.”

  “Consulted?” Kole spat. “What you need to be consulting them for? Bunch o’ has-beens too comfortable in their easy living to see the Empire is falling apart. That's what they are. They got nothing to say to you.”

  Sorin turned to his steward, but the man wasn't finished. “What do you want to hear, Sorin? You want them to tell you they were wrong sending you into an ambush? You think going back there will ease the pain of losing your link? Losing your hand?” Kole shook his head. “Seeing that city again will only bring it back, my friend. Shaylith has nothing for you.”

  “This isn’t for me.” Kole’s words brushed too close to a still-raw wound. Sorin let out a breath and continued. “Krea is nearing her first shift. The elders need to determine what should be done with her.”

  “Oh, Nordu damn them all. You know what needs doing. She’s a kyrni without a caller. You are a caller without a kyrni. Teach her. Take her in. Do whatever it is you people do. You don’t need no elder for that.”

  Sorin shook his head and looked out at the glowing horizon. The steward had no idea what he was asking. “No. It doesn’t work that way, Kole. I will never have another link. Krea needs a caller, and it can’t be me.” He surveyed the fields. The serfs were already out shuffling around in preparation for the early harvest. Birdsong filled the forest, and the amber touch of the morning sun glistened off the distant wheat crops. It was a beautiful place, his manor. Everything a man could think to want was right here, but it still wasn’t enough. Sorin instinctively knew that no matter what he acquired or gave away, it would never be enough. The gaping hole left by the loss of Tormismir would be with him forever. “Troulas is preparing the horses right now. I will leave as soon as they are ready.”

  Kole just shook his head. “Well, you know I can’t abide no uppity noble who thinks going to court is a profession. If something happens to you and the Empress fiefs this land to one of that ilk, you’ll have my curse upon your head.”

  “I know,” Sorin said, clasping his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine, but I don’t know how long this journey will take. The sooner I get her there and dropped off, the better. It will be up to you to keep things going in my absence.”

  “Don’t worry yourself. It won’t be no different than when you’re here.”

  Sorin laughed and gave Kole’s shoulder a quick thump. “Fair enough. Just don’t start changing things around while I’m not here to stop you. I know the serfs aren’t happy about the extra help, but when those early rains come, and I know they will, everyone will be glad that we have seed on the ground instead of wheat stalks.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Kole replied, clasping Sorin’s forearm. “You go hunt your ghosts and be careful. I ain’t got a good feeling about this. There’s talk that the war in the north has crossed the Bother River. I even heard it said that the torbadyn are aligned with the Walkilni now, and that they infiltrated the castle. Some of the whispering says this wedding is just a way to get all the ruling nobility in one place so’s they can be snuffed.”

  “There’s always talk of alliances and conspiracies.”

  Kole shook his head and braced his liege man with a somber stare. “No. This is different. I know you want no part of the rumors coming down from Shaylith, but you need to know. Something evil is moving out of the Dakel Forest. Folk says the evil has took Shaylith herself.”

  “Just talk, Kole,” Sorin assured his steward, half-wishing someone would assure him of the same thing. “I’ll take care. I wouldn’t want to leave you playing steward to a noble with half your years and twice your ego.”

  Kole merely grunted and folded his arms across his chest. “So, how do you intend to find your missing thief, anyway? Seems to me she can make herself scarce if she ain’t run afoul of that guard for as long as this.”

  “Apparently she’s quite skilled, but I know where she’s going. When I was leaving the alleyway with her, she gave herself away.”

  Kole nodded, patted Sorin's shoulder, and headed off to organize the serfs. Sorin watched him for a moment and then turned to leave. He needed to get to the village before Krea, if he had any hope of convincing her to join him.

  Chapter 2 - Leaving

  Krea slipped behind an empty merchant cart and peered down the busy strip of road. This was not going to be fun. No fun at all. Even though she didn’t see any of the captain’s guards, she knew they were skulking around somewhere and that they would be watching for her. But, it didn't matter. She had to get that pouch back, regardless of the risk. The money in the purse would feed her for months and pay for passage to the next town. The nobleman had been right about one thing, at least: It was time to leave Trasdaak.

  Going through the back alleyways was a bad plan; if the guards were waiting anywhere, it would be there. No, she had to find another way into the manor proper. From there, she could get to the alley and hopefully get back the money bag she had nearly been imprisoned for.

  A page was argui
ng with a blacksmith over a problem with his master’s sword. A few years ago, she could have passed for one of the nobles’ errand boys, but not anymore. Seeing them did give her an idea, though.

  Slipping around to the less reputable end of the marketplace, Krea felt in her pockets for the few valuable trinkets she had lifted from Sorin’s house. If the bed hadn’t been so inviting, she would have collected more.

  The merchants watched her like hungry animals as she stalked the familiar path to Onin’s cart. The trick to dealing with men of his ilk was to be just as ruthless as they were. That, and never go back on an agreement.

  Onin glanced up as she approached, then dismissed her as if she didn’t exist. After a full second, he looked back up in mild surprise.

  His reaction was perfect. If a man as sharp as Onin had difficulty recognizing her in her new, respectable attire, she stood a good chance of slipping past the guards. Krea grinned and leaned against the man’s cart.

  “You’re losing your touch, Onin.”

  Onin rubbed the back of his hand across his scruffy face. Brown eyes peered out from beneath bushy blond eyebrows as he evaluated Krea’s new look. When he finally met her eyes, his face was completely blank, but she knew he was impressed by the fact that he hadn’t started trying to run her off yet. “And I’m guessing there be a naked page out in an alley somewheres?” he muttered finally.

  Krea just smiled and smoothed her tunic. “I can’t believe you would think such a thing of me.”

  “Mmhm.”

  “Maybe I bought them,” Krea said a little defensively. “Stranger things have happened, you know.”

  Onin cocked an eyebrow in her direction and then went back to arranging the wares on the table. “You got no money. Now, get you out o’ here ’fore that page turns up wanting him clothes back. Last thing I need be the Lady’s guard snooping ’round. Trouble follows you like no one I ever seen.”

  “Well, I’ll have you know that I do have money.”

  Onin looked up from his table.

  “Well, I don’t have it at the moment, but I will. Actually, that is what I’m here for—to get some.”

  “I ain’t your rich aunt. Get you out o’ here.”

  Krea held her ground. “I have a few things that might interest you, but if you can’t be bothered to look at them, I’ll just go elsewhere.”

  “Just stop your yabber and show me what you got.” As he spoke, his eyes darted up and down the street. That was a good sign. It meant he was ready to do business.

  Krea dug her treasures out of her pocket and then out of the small bag she carried, carefully laying them on the table. She had a small silver spoon, a jeweled hair comb, the brass knob off the bed, and a small meat knife with a jewel on the hilt. It wasn’t much, but if she could use it to get to that bag, it would do.

  “Aww! What junk. I got no need o’ this.”

  Very slowly, Krea removed the items one at a time, starting with the bedknob. When she reached for the hair comb, Onin’s hand shot out and covered the hairpiece. Krea smiled.

  “I’ll give you two shol. Nothing more.”

  Unperturbed, Krea dragged the comb out from under the man’s hand and started to pocket it.

  Onin cursed. “Okay. Three.”

  “Three for the comb, maybe, but not for the lot.”

  “Give me that,” Onin demanded, snatching the ornament out of her hand. He made a production of inspecting it, but Krea knew full well he was stalling. He had picked up every detail of the hairpiece down to the smallest missing jewel before she had fished the rest of the treasures out of her pocket. Onin was a businessman, but the kind of business he dealt in didn’t offer him the luxury of time. “I’ll give you four shol and a dalman for the whole pile. That be my last word on it.”

  Now it was Krea’s turn to stall. She glanced up the street to Onin’s competition, then back down to the upscale merchants fawning over the nobility who had come from nearby villages and towns. When she finally looked back to Onin, a barely detectable smile snuck out from behind his scraggly beard. “Four shol and two dalman,” she countered.

  Onin nodded. “Done.” He reached into his pocket and dug out the coin while she once again emptied her pockets and bag. “You be getting a might cocky for a thief, bug. Don’t let them clothes go fillin’ your head with crazy ideas.” Onin handed her the coin. “Bein’ cocky will get you killed, sure as anything.”

  Krea only bobbed her head and dropped the money into a pocket. By the time she looked down at the table again, everything had disappeared except the bedknob. She looked up at the man in confusion.

  “You keep it. That there fits someone’s bed same as a key fits the lock to my prison cell. I got no need for the likes of that.”

  She should have thought about that herself. Oh, well; she was still learning. Krea snagged the heavy fist-size ball and dropped it in the carry bag she had stolen from the wardrobe. She’d get rid of it the first chance she found.

  With real money in her pocket, Krea worked her way back up the street to one of the many food stands lining the wall. She stopped at the second one she came to and pretended to examine the contents of a metal can of dried fruit with the critical eye of the rich. It was early yet and most of the people frequenting the various stands were house servants of one kind or another, so the merchant was in no hurry to attend to Krea’s needs. When the woman did finally step over to see what Krea wanted, she barely managed to hide her boredom. “Can I help you, miss?” the woman asked, carefully placing the fruit balls back in the box.

  Krea looked up at the merchant. The woman didn’t seem old enough to be so sour, but she was clearly in no mood to socialize. “I doubt it,” Krea said, and sighed.

  The woman arched her eyebrow, but said nothing.

  “My lady is in her moon,” Krea explained, idly fingering a glass jar of goddess knew what. “She simply won’t be satisfied, and now she has set her mind on something sweet. Where am I supposed to find something sweet this time of year?”

  “Hmm,” returned the merchant, but a tendril of interest touched her face. “Have you thought about hard candy? I have a tin of small drops that she could suck on without anyone being the wiser.”

  Krea looked up. “Really? Let’s see them.”

  The merchant reached into a box and pulled out a large can brimming with small white balls. “You can have the whole can for five shol.”

  “The whole can! What do I want with a whole can? Given the lady’s mood, she’ll hate them and have me washing in the barn to pay back the money I wasted. No, just give me a handful, and if she likes them I’ll come back and get more.”

  Apparently, Krea’s mention of the quantity and not the price pleased the merchant, because she lost no time digging out a small fabric pouch. She filled the pouch, pulled it closed, and handed it to Krea. “Two shol.”

  “Two shol for one handful when I could have had the can for five?”

  The merchant smiled. “You bought the bag as well. Your lady can’t be discreet if she has to dig around in her pockets to satisfy her craving, now can she?”

  The woman was smart. Krea would have countered the logic, but it didn’t fit her guise as a lady’s maid spending someone else’s money. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted, reluctantly digging for the coin. “The last thing she needs is for her mother to see her with candy.”

  With an appreciative nod, the merchant took the coin. Krea turned and headed down the street for the court. If that bag of money was gone, she had just given up half of all the money she would likely get before she left the village, and all she had to show for it was a bag of candy.

  As soon as she was out of the merchant woman’s sight, Krea cut through a cluster of carts and ducked into a short alleyway. She jogged up past an old thatched roof building in need of new mortar, then turned to follow the wall. In short order, she came to a stand of bushes that had seen better days.

  After a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, Kr
ea shoved the spindly branches aside and ducked into the now-visible gaping hole. With some effort, she navigated another cluster of plant life notably less cooperative and emerged in the inner court of the Lady’s manor. Now, to get back to the alleyway.

  Krea jogged around a large, ornate fountain decorated with a chiseled stone seating area, then stopped to walk as she approached a corner hedged by meticulously-trimmed trees.

  She had been in these outer courts before, but the sheer beauty of the grounds never ceased to amaze her. Towering oaks and whispering aspen dotted the lush green grass that rolled along in small, sloping hills. Painted benches or a cluster of vivid flowers dancing in the early morning sunshine circled each tree. Stone paths wound throughout the courtyard, disappearing around thick stands of bushes and walls covered with climbing vines and flowers. She also knew from her past raids on the Lady Regent’s manor that guards stalked the walkways far more often than the Lady herself.

  Sure enough, the clank of a sword echoed from the next turn. Without losing a second, Krea spun and dropped to one knee. It was a good position if she needed to pray again, and if those boots belonged to the captain of the guard, she would need all the prayer she could get. Thankfully, the voice that boomed out from behind her wasn’t the mocking tone of the man who most wanted her dead.