Tasha pursed her lips, biting back a rude remark. “I bear a most urgent message from Lady Aveline.”
“Indeed? Very well. Enter. You may wait in the parlor. Take care, he’s in a mood tonight.” Upon opening the door wide enough for her to enter, Alik stepped aside. After shutting it behind Tasha, he then led her into the parlor. The Lord Mayor liked to pretend he was an influential nobleman of Etrunia, but his salon belied his true station.
The room, barely larger than the business area of Tasha’s home, featured two plush armchairs arranged around a table before a fireplace. A bearskin rug sprawled on the floor, a trophy the Lord Mayor told admirers he felled with a single arrow on a hunting trip. Tasha knew the truth—he’d acquired it by paying a hunter.
Fire crackled in the hearth. Tasha examined the various tapestries hanging on the walls. They depicted scenes from Etrunia’s history, most of which the Lord Mayor was ignorant, no doubt.
Striding in a manner that reminded Tasha of a proud rooster she encountered as a child, Lord Mayor Koloman Dubvric entered the room. The wiry, lanky man with short, greased-back hair swirled wine in a goblet he cupped in his hand. He smiled when he saw Tasha, his thin mustache riding his upper lip like a smudge of dirt on a little boy’s face.
“Ah, my lovely sorceress. So, you have finally deigned to grant me the pleasure of your company!”
“Hardly.” Tasha sighed. “I’m here at the behest of Lady Aveline.”
Koloman sat in one of the chairs, gesturing for Tasha to do the same. “Are you, indeed? Why would she send you instead of coming herself?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you a belated present for my naming day?”
Unaware it had come and gone, Tasha barely cared she missed the Lord Mayor’s naming day. Especially after his suggestion. “Certainly not! There has been a development in the disappearances.”
“Pity.” He moved to brush her hand. Tasha removed it from his reach, running it through her hair to conceal her avoidance.
“A butcher’s daughter has been taken. Innya Myasnik. This time, a note was left with the family. We believe it is related to the other disappearances.”
Seemingly unfazed by the news, he sipped his wine. “On what grounds?”
“The note mentioned her purity and how it was just what they needed. All previous abductees we’re aware of were prostitutes, beggars, and passing travelers, hardly people the note writer would consider pure. It’s circumstantial, to be sure. At any rate, her parents are making a lot of noise. You and Aveline can no longer continue this investigation in secret.”
The knight-captain and the Lord Mayor decided after the second abduction to keep things quiet. They felt announcing the disappearances to the townsfolk would cause unrest. Tasha disagreed, but she conceded there was no need to shout the events on the street corners.
Groaning, Koloman drained his goblet. “The public can scream all they want, but the City Council will want answers. You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just wave a wand and divine where they went? Or summon them to your side?”
Tasha shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Besides, I’m not some sort of seer or soothsayer.” Divination magic, notoriously imprecise, was more the purview of tricksters and charlatans. If she were able to perform some divining ritual, it would probably just indicate the missing people were fraught with danger in a dark, secret place.
“Pity. I’m sure a lady of your many talents could help us.” The sly smile returned. Koloman leaned closer. “It’s late. Why don’t you stay tonight, and we’ll discuss this over breakfast?”
Rising, Tasha smoothed her robes. “I should go.”
“So soon? You’ve only just arrived.” Setting his goblet on the table, Koloman stood. He approached Tasha, gathering her in his arms.
“Not soon enough.” Tasha pushed him away. To his credit, Koloman didn’t try to hold on to her or embrace her a second time. He never did.
“Pity.”
“I disagree.” Tasha exited the parlor. She opened the front door before Koloman had the chance to make further advances. “I’m sure Lady Aveline will have an update in the morning. I suggest you discuss things with the City Council at the earliest opportunity.”
Tasha left, shutting the door behind her without waiting for his response. She shivered, although the night was not cold. Something about being alone with Koloman always made her skin crawl. Aveline owed her for this night.
* * *
“I want to know what’s being done to find my daughter!” Butcher Myasnik pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. A burly man, he dressed in an oft-mended brown jerkin and wrinkled dark breeches. Myasnik’s puffy eyes betrayed the late hour and his lack of sleep, and his dark, stringy hair protruded at odd angles from beneath his dingy cap. Sitting alongside him and attired in her nightclothes, his wife wept into a handkerchief. A guard handed her a long jacket to cover herself.
Aveline despised when people hit objects for emphasis. She tried to remain calm. “I have Watch Sergeant Anton checking with the gate guards who were on duty yesterday morning. Watch Lieutenant Valon is leading the rest of the guards in a citywide search for her. I’m bringing in all the city watch; they’re waking the rest now. If she’s in Curton, we’ll find her.”
“And if she’s not in Curton?”
It was a possibility Aveline did not care to address at the moment, but it was the most likely one. “We haven’t the resources to search the city and the countryside at the same time. I’ve chosen to concentrate on the city search for now.”
“Unacceptable!” Butcher Myasnik snatched his hat off his head. Flinging it, he appeared ready to leap across the table.
“Papa, please.” The butcher’s wife tugged at her husband’s sleeve.
“What would you have me do? Send riders out in all directions in the night? Hoping they spot one person in the vast wilderness that surrounds us? I’ve already sent constables with torches and dogs into the flower fields east of town. There are myriad ways to confound hounds. Even our best hunters and trackers have difficulty seeing in the dark.”
“Papa, please. Let’s leave Lady Aveline to her work.”
Butcher Myasnik first scowled at his wife, then at Aveline. He rose, his wife clutching at his arm. Brushing her off, he stormed out of the jail.
“Thank you for everything you’re doing.” The butcher’s wife curtsied, then followed her husband.
Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose. Pain blossomed behind her eyes—like some unseen force pushed on them from within her head. The night promised to be as long as the day had been, and she wanted more than anything to rest. She waved the guard over.
“M’lady?”
“Stand watch outside. I’m going to try to get some sleep. Alert me if there’s any news of the missing girl.”
The guard saluted. “Yes, m’lady. Cybele watch over you.”
After the guard exited, Aveline pushed herself away from the table, then headed toward the barracks. Unused since Koloman was appointed, offices for town magistrates and the Lord Mayor were located on the upper floor of the citadel. When he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the old building, Aveline turned the former Lord Mayor’s office into a private sanctuary for herself. Even though she owned a home adjacent to the town’s southern wall, Aveline occasionally slept at the citadel to spare herself the walk.
The room she occupied lacked amenities, but it featured a simple cot, a dresser, and a basin with a water pitcher. She didn’t bother removing her armor, preferring not to be caught in her smallclothes if the guard returned to wake her. The wooden cot groaned as she lowered herself into it, complaining at the extra weight of her plate mail.
She closed her eyes, thankful for a relatively quiet jail. A few rowdies slept off their ales in the common cell. The stone walls and thick oaken doors of the citadel, along with several furniture-filled offices, deadened noise between the jail and the living quarters. Aveline shifted on the cot, attempting to find a comfortable position. Her armor
always pinched sensitive areas if she didn’t take care to avoid pressure points, reminding her once again that sleeping in armor ensured an unsatisfactory rest, at best.
From downstairs, a shout for assistance jolted Aveline awake. She turned her head, wincing as her gorget dug into her neck. Rubbing the spot, she eased herself off the cot. She stumbled down the staircase, then headed for the cellblock. Watch Lieutenant Valon wrangled a large hairless man. The prisoner snarled, resisting with foot and fist as the lieutenant maneuvered him toward the common cell.
Upon unlocking it, Aveline opened the door for him. She seized the man’s collar, noticing only then the prisoner was a female oroq. Hairless, grey-skinned, and often believed to worship solely Maris, the goddess of war, oroqs were often regarded as the bane of mountain communities. This oroq’s red eyes and tattoo that barely covered the gnarled scar circling her left ear and traveled the length of her face and neck before disappearing inside her tunic suggested a dangerous and violent past.
“What’s going on?” Aveline pushed the oroq into the cell, then slammed the iron-bar door behind her. The din caused the sleeping drunks to stir, but neither woke. Snarling, the oroq leapt at the cell gate. Wrapping her fingers around the bars, she pressed her face against the barrier near Aveline. Blackened tusks protruded from her bottom lip, and her breath stank of ale and blood. Aveline noticed red flecks on her lips.
“I didn’t start that fight.”
Aveline stepped backward. She faced Lieutenant Valon. “What fight? I thought you were searching for the butcher’s daughter.”
Lieutenant Valon shook his head. “Constables are still combing the city. A fight broke out in the Bristled Boar just as I was walking by.” A tavern near Miners’ Gate, the Bristled Boar enjoyed a reputation as an establishment catering to people of questionable tastes.
He unhooked an axe from his belt before placing it on the spare rack reserved for confiscated weapons. He removed his helmet, revealing matted, brown shoulder-length hair. “One of the mudders came tumbling out the door with this one on top of him. She bit off his ear.”
“Where’s the mudder?” Aveline locked the cell door. Realizing the opportunity for escape expired, the oroq growled.
“He ran off. Probably home.”
“I tried to give him back his ear, but I guess he didn’t hear me.” The oroq grinned.
Lieutenant Valon huffed. “You threw it at him whilst yelling obscenities as he ran.”
Aveline turned to the oroq. “I’m surprised you made it as far into the city as the Bristled Boar. We’re not exactly friendly with the local oroq communities.”
The prisoner spat on the floor. “I’m not local. Besides, my partner vouched for me.”
“I’ll bet he’s feeling foolish now, isn’t he?” Lieutenant Valon passed in front of Aveline, rapping the oroq’s fingers with his cudgel. Yanking them off the bars, she snarled at him.
“You said you didn’t start the fight?” Aveline eyed Lieutenant Valon. “Where is her partner?”
The lieutenant shrugged, brushing hair off his face. “No one stepped forward. I assumed she was alone, though I was curious how an oroq got into town.”
“My partner and I were minding our business, drinking our ale while enjoying a nice meat shank when that mudder came up and called me all manner of unfriendly things.” The oroq rubbed her knuckles. “Aerik stood up for me, but when that mudder threw his drink in our faces, I decided to show him what I thought of his hospitality.”
“Aerik?” Aveline wondered what manner of man would willingly team up with an oroq.
“Aerik Devilhand, my partner.”
Aveline nodded at Lieutenant Valon. “Go back to the Bristled Boar to find this ‘Aerik Devilhand.’ I want to talk to him.”
Lieutenant Valon saluted, then left.
“I assume you have a name, or shall I just call you Oroq?”
“Therkla Fire-Eyes.”
Sighing, Aveline paced before the cell door. “As I mentioned, we’re not on speaking terms with the local oroqs. Granted, I was just a little girl when Jayne Hammerfist held the pass against the invading oroq army.”
Therkla narrowed her eyes. “As I said, I’m not from the mountain communities.”
Aveline stopped pacing, peering into Therkla’s flame-colored eyes. “Where are you from then, and why are you here?”
“I’m from a place that no longer exists in the Four Watches. Aerik and I are just passing through.”
Both hardy folk and dangerous beasts lived in the vast frigid area beyond the southern mountains known as the Four Watches. Traders from the Northern Watch, usually burly, hairy humans dressed in bulky furs and carrying large axes and hammers, sometimes traveled as far north as Curton. Aveline knew little of the land outside the southern border of Etrunia.
“I’ve heard Watchfolk get along with oroqs better than folks up here do. Harsh climes and dangerous beasts encourage more cooperation, I suppose.”
Aveline and Therkla stared at each other. Determined not to look away first, Aveline sighed when the opening door interrupted her. Lieutenant Valon entered, followed by a large man.
“Aerik!”
Where the man’s furs stopped and his beard started, Aveline could not determine. His red-rimmed, glassy eyes betrayed the bottle of whiskey, or several, he had consumed.
She turned to the man. “You’re Aerik Devilhand?”
Stifling a belch, he nodded, dropping his left hand to the hilt of his broadsword.
“I found him stumbling toward the jail. He looked like he would never find it on his own.” Gripping the man’s arm, Lieutenant Valon pulled him toward the cell. Aveline stopped him.
“You and your oroq friend will be here until you sober up. You’ll have to relinquish your sword.”
“Best do it, Aerik. We’ve done nothing wrong.” Therkla stepped away from the cell door.
“Blarg.” Aerik collapsed. Aveline jerked his sword out of its scabbard, then placed it on the weapon rack beside the axe. Lieutenant Valon opened the cell door and dragged Aerik inside, dumping his limp body at Therkla’s feet.
“Keep him on his side. If he empties his stomach, it won’t drown him.” Aveline rubbed her neck.
Lieutenant Valon grinned. “Unless you don’t care about that.”
Therkla curled her lip at him. “I’ll watch him. So what? You’ll let us out in the morning?”
Aveline shrugged. “If you behave and the mudder doesn’t come around wanting us to keep you longer.”
The lock of the door clicked into place as Lieutenant Valon turned the key. “He probably won’t. Most of these mudders view bar fighting as a hobby. He’ll probably tell everyone in the morning how he bested you despite losing his ear. It’ll be a badge of honor for him.”
Aveline shook her head as Therkla tended to Aerik. Mudders have a strange sense of honor.
Chapter 4
The ringing of the shopkeeper’s bell at the top of her door interrupted Tasha’s translations. With a sigh, she returned her quill to its holder. Rubbing her eyes, she stepped to the front of her store. She never slept well after dealing with Koloman, and retiring late contributed to her fatigue.
Aveline smiled as Tasha approach the counter. “Good morning!”
Tasha nodded, stifling a yawn. “You’re cheerful. Did you find the girl?”
Aveline’s smile faded, and deep lines grew on her brow. “No. We’ve started combing the fields around the city. How did it go with our beloved Lord Koloman last night?”
“He was more interested in seducing me than hearing about the girl’s disappearance. I advised him to talk to the town council about it, to consider letting people know what was going on.” She stifled another yawn.
“Did you stay with him?”
Tasha gasped. “What? No!” She then caught the teasing smile on Aveline’s lips and the twinkle in her eyes. “You owe me for that.”
Aveline laughed. “Everyone knows you’re too good for him.”
> Approaching her apothecary cabinet, Tasha waved her hand. “There are days I wish I could turn him into a toad.” She searched the drawers for a remedy to stave off sleep.
“You’ve been around oroqs, right?”
Tasha shut the drawer, eyeing Aveline. Her friend’s mouth became a tight line, a sign she was no longer joking.
“Only in battle, why?”
“Oh, we jailed one last night for drunken brawling. I’ve only heard stories, you know, the tales of Jayne Hammerfist. She was well spoken. Better than any of the mudders.”
Tasha never conversed with any oroqs she’d fought and had never encountered a female. “I suppose there could be eloquent, relatively peaceful oroqs in the world. I mean, until I traveled to Drak-Anor, I knew nothing good about draks and minotaurs.” Tasha tried not to think about those days much.
“That’s the city near Ironkrag, right? The minotaur and drak city?”
Tasha grunted an affirmation. Her mind returned to that day. She and Lorelei defended the city against an army of oroqs led by a cathar warlock. The tattered and ugly bird-like creature from the Western Wastes wielded foul blood magic in the battle that took her elf lover, Lorelei, from Tasha. Her hand drifted toward her choker.
Feeling Aveline’s hand on her shoulder, Tasha shook her head to clear the dark pictures from her mind.
“I’m sorry, Tasha. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories.”
“They…” The words caught in Tasha’s throat. She coughed and tried again. “They made a nice monument to her, I’m told. I never went back. I hear the city is quite prosperous now. It enjoys good trade with Ironkrag and Celtangate.”
Aveline nodded. She had heard similar stories from traders. Other accounts told of a demonic man ruling over the city with a snake-haired woman at his side, but even the people telling those tales extolled the quality of contraptions they purchased from the draks there.
“Do you want me to talk with her?”
“No, I just wanted to hear your take. Once her companion sleeps off his drink, we’re going to release them. She’s traveling with a man. Claims they’re from the Northern Watch. I’m inclined to believe them. There are a lot of oroqs living there in relative peace with the Watchfolk, I hear.”
Summer of Crows Page 3
