If Crows Know Best (Mage of Merced Book 1)

by Aimee Gross

  “I told you I would like to see Harbourmaster Folio’s face when he learned smugglers were part of his salvation,” said Zaffis. “Well worth the trip!”

  Wils said on, “We are all to climb to the cliffs above, and walk home from there. Others are set to bring the wagons and horses.”

  “I’ll take you far enough you won’t get lost,” Orlo offered. “Then I need to show my mum and the Emerals I’m still in one piece.”

  “Did Honni’s da and brothers make it home?” I suddenly remembered she had not had any word of them last I knew.

  Orlo’s face clouded. “They were in the warehouse. One brother suffered a bad shoulder wound, but it may yet come right. They’ve all had too little food and too much filth.”

  “Tell her … tell her I said hey, will you?” What should a person say in such times?

  “Don’t give me too much sentiment to have to remember to her,” he scoffed.

  “I think you can remember hey.”

  “And I am sure it will warm her heart,” he said.

  “Why should I want to warm any of her?” I could feel my color rising, and was glad for the weak light. “And give my regards to her family, and Guthy as well.”

  Zaffis foraged lanterns for Wils and me, and Orlo kept his torch for the walk back. He led us through more of the web of tunnels, past caches of crates and barrels here and there. Smuggler’s stash, I reckoned. Wieser walked alongside, ever patient with where I took her. I kept up a steady stream of narration to Orlo, telling him about my knife from the kavsprit, and our trip to Fort Hasseron to rescue Da. Wils had to fill in about closing the pass, since I was told few details at the time. He and Annora walked behind, holding hands. Her smile lit the passage almost as much as his lantern.

  Our tunnel’s floor began to rise steeply. I had to watch my steps with care to avoid rolling an ankle on the rocks. “Are we near the cliffs yet?”

  “Not yet. We had a time getting all those wounded soldiers up and out, I can tell you,” Orlo puffed. “Zaffis had to have some of them nursed below in town ’til they could walk. No litters through here!”

  At last, Orlo stopped and pointed ahead. “Keep to this way, there are only smaller side tunnels from now to the top of the cliffs. As long as you stay in the wider passage, you will not get lost. Fare you well, and gods keep you safe until you come to town again, country boy!” He waved as he turned away.

  The way was not as rough as the last climb, to the cisterns at the fort, but I was still glad when the floor began to level. We strode more quickly in the flickering lantern-glow, and though we still had a far piece to walk from the cliffs to our farm, it felt as if we were almost home, in a way.

  So, doubly cruel when Wieser’s hair rose and she lifted her lips to show white teeth in the lantern light. I put out my hand to stop Wils and Annora, and lifted my light high to peer ahead. A whispery crackle raced toward us out of the dark, then a flash of blinding light erupted overhead like a lightning strike. I threw an arm over my eyes too late, and could only blink, too dazzled to see, while I heard approaching boots crunch on the tunnel floor.

  “This cannot be you, at last? Only a boy?” said a voice that seemed to grind on my bones as it passed over me. Strange bright colors still burst across my vision, but gradually I could make out a tall man with a close-trimmed black beard, dressed in a black robe. He held a staff nearly as tall as himself. Around him stood five Keltanese soldiers, swords drawn.

  I half-dropped my lantern at my feet as I fumbled in my boot top for my knife, and said to Wils, “Run!” I could see him from the corner of my eye, sword before him and Annora shoved behind him, her own knife out. “Take her and RUN!”

  He cast me a desperate look, then wheeled and pulled Annora away, pelting back the way we had come. The soldiers started to follow them, but the sorcerer said, “No, with me. They do not matter, others will take them.”

  He took a step toward me to look closer at my blade. “How did you come by that?” he said sharply. Wieser leaped from my side to block him from coming any farther. His voice scraped at my ears, and with all my heart I did not want him nearer. Foul, acrid scent wafted from him.

  Da always told me it is better to keep quiet and be thought a wood-wit than to speak and dispel all doubt. I held my tongue. Wieser rumbled deep in her throat. The mage narrowed his eyes and held up his hand, palm facing me.

  “And you wear a moonstone. No wonder we have not seen you well. Who was it thought low peasant magic would save you? Who has trained you?”

  I only wish somebody had …

  He leaned forward. “You will tell me all, in the end.”

  Despite the hammering of blood in my ears, I heard faint sounds like wind-rustled leaves. Flashes of green in my vision did not seem to be the clearing of the mage’s light-strike. My hand began to tingle where I gripped the obsidian knife. The bone handle grew warm, then hot.

  “Take the knife from him,” the mage directed the nearest soldier. Wieser stiffened and drew a breath to renew her growl.

  The man hesitated. “I thought we were finding escaped prisoners, not shepherd boys.” Wieser snapped her jaws.

  “Go on. It’s only a dog,” said the soldier behind the first, giving him a shove toward us.

  “You think so?” sneered the sorcerer.

  “What’s your name?” I said to the mage.

  He gave a derisive bark of laughter. “So you can use it in a spell against me?”

  I would if I knew any. “No, I have seen some of your fellows from Scythera, and I was just wondering. Were you at Fort Hasseron of late?” The knife seemed alive in my fingers, aware. Something was going to happen, and I bargained for time.

  “What are you about?” His eyes raked over me, suspicious.

  “Usually I see a pair of you together. Where is your partner?” I had a sudden thought. “Are you a Sending? Is that why you don’t take my knife?”

  “Disarm the boy!” the mage snarled and banged the butt of his staff on the rock. Dust rose from the impact; he must really be here. The soldiers looked at each other and shifted their feet.

  “You do not want to take by force what the kavsprit have bestowed,” I said with brittle cheerfulness. The air began to buzz, as if hornets swarmed.

  “Bah! You lie! No human would be given such a gift by the spirits of the deep dark.” He began to hear something too, it appeared, for he looked about as if seeking the source.

  “Maybe Scytheran kavsprit do not like you overwell. Our Mercedian spirits are different. If you honor them, they hear you. If you want their help, you’ve only got to say.” Hear me, I’m saying now, I pleaded in my mind. Or, tell me how long before Wils might return with help for me?

  Distant caws echoed from behind the men, and Gargle soon flapped in to pass above them and drop something from his claws—something writhing. Three long black snakes, twisting as they fell. I could see they were a harmless sort, no venom, but a shock nonetheless. Soldiers leaped and cursed, swatting them away. Even the mage jumped.

  And turned the serpents to ash with a word and a pass of his staff.

  “Good try,” I told Gargle when he lit on my shoulder. “Pit vipers next time?” He muttered and took up a perch on the rocks beside me.

  A second mage arrived to push his way past the unnerved soldiers. His robe and staff were like that of the first, and his jaw jutted hard in anger. His voice was worse to hear because of what he said: “Kill the dog, fools.”

  One of the men cocked his bow and aimed. He would never miss her from this close on. Still I lunged with my knife when he loosed the bolt, and felt it smack my blade and spin away to clatter on the stones. My hand flashed out faster than I would have believed I could move, and sliced the bowstring as it vibrated. The soldier fell back among his fellows, gibbering.

  I pointed the blade tip at the first mage. “You want my knife come and take it.”

  Both of the mages glowered in livid fury. I heard pattering from the shadows, and the buzzing g
rew louder. I could feel it on my skin. My hand remained rock steady, though I cannot say it was because I felt no fear. I met their eyes and hoped my thoughts did not show on my face.

  “Who trained him?” asked the second mage.

  “He has not said. Yet.”

  “Enough of this. We will stun them both. Take some care not to kill the boy, I will know more from him.” The second mage shot his wrists out of his trailing sleeves, and turned to face the first. Each raised his staff and began to speak guttural words that made my heart knock wildly in my chest.

  Wieser began to whine as their voices rose. Her body twisted and she shook so hard. I shouted, “No!” and raised my knife, trying in some crazy way to cut their words from the air. Wieser’s whine rose to a shriek of agony. I could not bear her anguish, and cried out as well, falling to my knees. As I fell, blackness exploded from the knife blade just as light had burst in the tunnel from the mage’s spell. Inky darkness blotted all light, thick, burdening the air, which came alive with the chatter of thin whispery voices. Men screamed. I felt about me for Wieser, and closed my fingers in her curly coat.

  She was so still.

  I felt as if a thousand bird feet scrabbled over me, as the pattering sound swelled to fill the tunnel. Boots blundered and scuffled nearby, with incoherent cursing and piteous cries that did not come from me, this time. I could feel I still held my knife before me, but I could see nothing at all.

  How long the blackness held sway, I do not know. When gradual lifting of the oppressive dark began, at first I did not recognize what seeped in at the edges of my vision as my lantern’s light, so absolute was the dark in my mind. I prayed to the gods to feel some stirring within Wieser, heartbeat or breath. The dark retreated as it had come, contracting into the knife blade, though it receded more slowly than it had burst forth. Gargle hopped next to me, gurgling and shaking his wings. I looked up to see the five soldiers sprawled about the passage. I knew they were dead. Of the mages there was no trace.

  The sound of pounding feet came from the tunnel behind me. I turned my head to see Wils and Annora, and Da and Orlo. And so many others, all bristling with swords and panting heavily. Da looked at me, kneeling in the dust with Wieser at my side, and swallowed hard. He pointed his sword at the dead soldiers, and I saw Cobbel and Miskin, both ash-smeared, go to turn them over and check for signs of life. There would be none.

  Wils said, “What happened? Did you kill them all? Where is the sorcerer?”

  But I could not summon the will to speak.

  Annora knelt by Wieser, running her hands over her—just as she had done for the sickly kid on the first day Wils and I ever saw her. She bent to press her ear against the broad furry chest, and smiled. I felt my own heart falter in its rhythm, then.

  “Lift her head.” And when I did so, Annora cupped her hands around Wieser’s muzzle and blew in, long and slow. As she took her hands away, Wieser’s pink tongue flicked out. Annora never said a word when the tongue flicked out again, to lick off the tear that fell from my eye onto the black muzzle.

  To Wils she said, “She’s been shocked by magic, stunned. It will wear off, but it takes a while.”

  “What about Judian?” Wils said, brows furrowed deep.

  “I’m not stunned. But I am ready to go home.”

  CHAPTER 37

  I found I wanted to avoid bright sunlight for the next few days. I spent most of my time by the hearth with Wieser, as she gained strength. No one asked me to do any chores. That would not suit me for long, but it suited me fine for the time being.

  Morie alternated between pasting herself to me and then to Da. “What sort of language have you been using in front of her?” Da wanted to know. “She would make your crows blush.” Gargle, Tock and Clock exchanged glances with me at that.

  Virda set food in front of me regularly, and tsked and reverted to calling me poor lamb if I did not polish the plates clean. I did my best to do justice to her meals, since she had been called from coddling the wounded soldiers to coddle me instead.

  Gevarr came down from the cave barracks to see how I fared. He told me gruffly he had never seen me more useless, then pronounced himself a mercenary rather than a turncoat traitor. He got on wonderful well with Da. “I still can’t think of a reason to leave,” he said to me, with his usual insolent flash of teeth. I took more cheer from his visit than any other.

  I asked Joren Delyth what had changed his mind about Gevarr enough to bring him as outrider, and to the harbour battle. “Cobbel told me how he would have lain down his life for Virda and little Morie, when he was here while you all were gone to the fort. How he watched over them. He has a good heart, in his way. And he fought hard in the harbour, led a squad of our men. A natural commander, Behring says.”

  I also received a visit from Behring, who had charge of a garrison by the lowest cave. They were to guard the northwest pass and prevent its use by Keltane. He thanked me for what I had done to free the soldiers from the warehouse. I only nodded, I had given over telling folk it was Orlo’s idea. He told me the troops from the prison ships had all been brought ashore. “And if I were your da, I’d skin you twice over,” he said as he shook my hand.

  Every day some of Merced’s officers came to see Da, including the marshall he had pursued west. Freed from one of the prison ships, the man’s uniform hung on his bones and his hands trembled like autumn leaves. Virda fixed him a heaped plate of food at once. He relayed plans to move captured Keltanese troops from Bale Harbour, transporting them by wagon to scattered camps about the country to work in our fields. “I know another one they could take,” I overheard Wils say to Annora, but she shushed him.

  Da was often called to the harbour, but did most of his business by messenger bird, still using our code. Annora kept busy training a cadre of our soldiers in the system, so each could train a dozen others. For though we had been victorious in our province, the rest of Merced endured occupation still. Our army had much yet to do.

  Wils did every sort of work around the farm without complaining. I could have watched him all day. And did. Annora tried not to laugh at me with my boots up while Wils chased chickens in the evening to shut them in the new coop.

  Annora gave tender care to Wieser, fixing her broths and brushing her coat. We had to carry her home that night in a cloak sling, from the cave tunnel to our hearth. She could walk a bit, of late. Murr often came to sleep at her side, which I supposed a gesture of affection rather than just looking for a warm place. Anyway, Morie insisted it was so.

  What I mostly did was try to avoid thinking about mages. I had no way of knowing if the two from the cave had escaped or been killed by the kavsprit. What happened to a mage’s body when he no longer inhabited it? Were they still mortal men? If angels came from good folk ascending to the gods, what did a mage become? In any case, there had to be more than two Scytheran sorcerers in Merced. I figured I would be sought more than ever now. Da thought so, too.

  He came to me by the fire late evening, after the others settled for sleep. I had taken to sleeping beside Wieser’s pallet, so she would not be lonesome in the night. Da walked over to sit in his chair. He carried a wooden box I had never seen before, deeply carved with leaves and vines.

  “I never gave you your birthday gift,” he said, setting it before me.

  I opened it to discover a book with a tooled leather cover. It looked as if every kind of animal, bird and plant was depicted, each merging and mingling together in a web of life. The intricacy amazed me. I lifted the cover to see page after page of magic. Spells and drawings, potions, remedies and lore of every kind, and more whose meaning I could not guess. Some pages were in languages I did not know. I looked up at Da.

  “This was your mother’s. She told me the night you were born, you would be the one to have her gift. Wils like me, you like her, and Morie,” here he smiled, “like no one else, exactly.”

  “Mum was a witch?”

  “More than that. A sorceress. She was not from Me
rced, though you might not know that. I met her as a young officer, away to the South War. She was from an island country far across the ocean—”

  “But not Scythera,” I broke in.

  “No, Lohr Island, nowhere near Scythera. She emigrated with her family to Merced’s riverlands. Elyn. My first look at her sealed my heart to any other. I brought her home to the mountain.“ He paused and looked at his hands in his lap. “I miss her daybreak to sunset every day, and in my dreams.”

  I did not know what to say. I had thought always more about my loss than of his. I was not even sure I had known her name was Elyn. I just called her Mum.

  He looked up. “I think it best you go to her folk on the island now, to be trained in magic.”

  “I do not want to be a sorcerer, like those two in the tunnel.”

  “Like all of us, you have a choice to use your gifts for good or ill. You need not be like them. But you could learn what you need to fight them. They will come for you. I fear I cannot keep you safe here, Judian. And I would have you safe.”

  A log hissed and settled in a shower of sparks as I considered what he said. For an instant, I thought I saw a face in the embers. The God of Fire? My mother’s book seemed heavier in my lap of a sudden. “I would take Wieser with me.” I laid my hand on her head; she gave a thump with her tail. “And Gargle should come with me, but Tock and Clock can stay to carry messages, they’ll prefer that.”

  Da nodded. “I have spoken to Harbourmaster Folio, he thinks to get you aboard a ship that carries cargo that way. If Wieser can travel, can you be ready to leave for the harbour tomorrow?”

  “If I am going, better sooner than later. I do not want a dose of carrying on from everybody. I’d rather leave even before they all know I’m gone.”

  “Do you want to go to the harbour through the cliff tunnel?”

  “No! No. I don’t want to go back there. But see to it—please—that an offering is left there for the kavsprit. A generous one, renewed always.” His eyes told me he would see it done. “Wieser can ride in our Traveller wagon. You might drive us down to the sea, if you would.”