Summer of Crows

by Hans Cummings

  “Too bad our own wares were lost.” Jazeera picked up their robes, then followed Tasha and Raj out of the inn.

  “We’ll be all right, sister. With steady work over the summer, I’ll be able to get us set up doing something good by harvest.”

  Tasha hoped the faelix spoke true. She felt obligated to watch out for the castaways.

  Although neither of the siblings wore the robes Mother Anya provided, the people of Curton seemed more at ease seeing the faelixes in town than they had the day prior. As they proceeded, Tasha pointed out shops and introduced the siblings to townsfolk she knew.

  “You know, I suppose I should’ve asked if you have any skills.” Tasha guided them over to Imrus the redsmith’s stall.

  “Just selling. Trading. Stealing.” Raj shrugged. “We don’t advertise that last one much.”

  “Imrus! These are the castaway siblings I told you about.”

  “By Adranus, I’ve never seen the like.” Imrus wiped his hands on his already-dirty apron.

  Jazeera leaned toward Tasha. “Which god is Adranus?”

  “God of craftsfolk, smithing, fire, too, I think.”

  Imrus ran a hand through his sweat-matted, curly hair. Perspiration dripped down his face, showing dark streaks of skin through the coating of dust on him. “You’ve never heard of Adranus?”

  “We know him by a different name—the Firelord.” Raj examined Imrus’s wares. “Nice pots. A little different than what I’m used to selling, but we can make this work.”

  Imrus turned toward Tasha. “I was actually hoping for someone to help with smelting and casting, Good Lady.”

  “Oh no, no, no.” Shaking her head, Jazeera took Imrus’s arm. “We have much too much fine fur to risk singeing it with the Firelord’s tools.”

  “We will sell for you. You won’t be able to keep up.”

  A portly man approached the stall, staring at the faelix siblings. He tore his gaze away from them long enough to settle on a small, footed cauldron. “That’s an interesting design. Seems a bit small.”

  Imrus grunted. “Then get a bigger one. Or cook less.”

  Jazeera pinched the redsmith. “Listen and learn.”

  Raj grinned at his sister before taking the customer by the arm. “Excuse him, good sir, it is early, and he had a bad egg when breaking his fast. This cauldron is excellent for small stews and perhaps even potions. Notice the feet? You can set it over coals for quicker cooking or just set it on the side of the hearth. No need to hang it.”

  He guided the customer to a larger pot next to a copper skillet. “But this… this is for grand meals. You appreciate fine food, yes? There is no finer meal than what you’ll cook in this pot. Stews and such. Of course, you’ll need a skillet for a rasher of bacon, eggs, perhaps even a beefsteak, yes?”

  Pulling the customer close, Raj glanced over his head. “There aren’t any minotaurs about, are there? Don’t want to be gored talking about cows.” He lowered his voice. “They don’t like when people eat beef, you know.”

  The customer stammered, turning his head to search the marketplace.

  “Ah, no matter.” Raj raised an eyebrow as he eyed Imrus. “How much did you say this set was, Boss?”

  “Ten crowns for both.”

  “Oh my!” The customer stumbled backward. “I only need a pot.”

  “Oh, well, call it six for the pot. Six silver crowns…”

  “Gold.” Tasha giggled. “Crowns are gold. Talons are silver.”

  “That is what I said.” Raj caressed the pot. “Six crowns. It is a crime to sell craftsmanship this fine so cheaply. The Firelord, er, Adranus should be insulted. But do we care? No!” He clicked his claws in the customer’s face. “We think you deserve to have the finest cookware when preparing opulent meals for you and your family.”

  Tasha watched Imrus. The redsmith’s jaw hung agape.

  “I live alone.” The customer stared at the pot.

  “Perhaps with cookware this beautiful, not for long, eh? Who could resist a man of such fine taste? I, myself, would be sorely tempted by a potential mate with finery such as this.”

  “I do enjoy cooking.” The man patted his stomach before reaching into his money purse. “How much did you say again?”

  “Seven crowns.” Raj winked at his sister. “Seven crowns to honor Adranus’s hand in this fine craftsmanship. Buying this is practically an act of worship.”

  The man counted out seven gold coins, dropping them into Raj’s outstretched paw. Smiling, Raj handed the man his pot. “Cook well, and may your new mates give you many kittens!”

  “Uh yes…” He stumbled away, struggling with the pot.”

  Turning to Imrus, Raj bowed. “That’s how you sell.”

  * * *

  By midday, Aveline finished plotting thirty graves. Digging that many intimidated her. She chose to wait for the helpers to arrive. Instead, she busied herself with further cleaning of the campsite. Without knowing how many volunteers Tasha recruited, her ignorance limited preparations.

  Using what rope she had and canvas from the other tent, she constructed a makeshift litter. After donning her armor, she dragged the litter behind her into the forest. She tossed branches and sticks she came across on the forest floor into it as she proceeded.

  She foraged until she reached the stream. After gathering all the nearby deadfall, Aveline sat on a rock and removed her boots. The frigid mountain water sent shivers up her legs as she dipped her feet into the rushing brook, but she grew accustomed to it after a couple of minutes. Examining her grimy hands, she decided to strip and bathe. While there was little she could do for her clothing, Aveline figured that which lay under it should at least be clean.

  Gritting her teeth to gird against the shock of the chilly water, she squatted in the brook. One of the many streams feeding the Copper Run River, this tributary barely rose above her knees. She scrubbed her hands without the benefit of soap.

  “Nethun’s beard, this is cold. I miss my bed. I miss my hearth.” She splashed water toward a bug-eyed frog on a nearby stump. “I miss a warm washtub, and I miss my mead.” She decided to make building a roaring fire her first priority upon returning to camp.

  Once the worst of the grime disappeared, Aveline stepped over to the bank, seizing a low-hanging branch to steady herself as she waded to dry land. She lowered herself onto a rock and rinsed her feet, then waited for the warm summer air to dry enough of her body so she could dress without her clothes clinging to her as if she’d been prancing through a spring shower.

  After dressing, she dragged the litter back to camp. Approaching the mine entrance, she heard voices. Her heart skipped a beat, grateful for the arrival of help from Curton. She realized it was impossible, however, for whoever Tasha recruited to have traveled here so quickly. After dropping the litter, she drew her mace.

  Creeping forward, she made her way toward the boulder at the edge of camp. The voices grew louder as she approached, and it became clear they conversed in Drak. She considered charging into camp. Instead, she decided to take a leap of faith, hoping they were the same draks with whom Tasha spoke and who were not actually hostile. Nevertheless, Aveline kept a tight grip on her mace as she entered the camp.

  “Looking for something?”

  The draks spun in unison, brandishing their spears. As she guessed, the draks’ scales shone white in the midday sun. One barked orders at the other as he lowered his spear. His compatriots followed suit.

  “I am Gral of the Icescale clan. We thought all your kind returned to your city.”

  These are definitely Tasha’s draks. Aveline hooked her mace to her belt. “The others returned to Curton to get help. We have many dead to bury here. I informed one of your scouts yesterday, but I don’t think he understood me.”

  The drak swept his gaze around the camp. One of the others chattered at him until he held up a clawed hand to silence him. “We see no dead here.”

  Aveline pointed toward the mine entrance. “They’re in
there. I haven’t the strength to bring them all out on my own. That’s why folk from town are coming to help me dig the graves.”

  The drak cocked his head. “Strange that your people leave one lone female to tend to the dead.”

  “My self-imposed penance. For failing them.” Aveline hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m Captain of the City Watch. I was supposed to protect them. Keep them safe. The least I can do now is ensure they’re laid to rest with honor.”

  Gral turned toward the mine entrance. “Why are there so many dead in the mine?”

  “A wizard was abducting people, using them for experiments. There’s still”—she waved her hand in the direction of the mine—“evil there. My friend, Tasha, the one who spoke to your clan leader the other day, she has requested help from the Arcane University.”

  Aveline gestured toward the canvas structure. “I’d appreciate it if you’d move away from my tent. I’d like to stow my armor before getting back to work.”

  Bowing, the drak ordered the others to move to the other side of the camp. He leaned on his spear. “When you are finished, you’ll begin digging here again? What is in this place?”

  “It used to be a copper mine.” Aveline tossed her shield and mace into the tent. “All the veins dried up years ago. The town abandoned it. That’s probably why the wizard moved in.”

  “If we help you, perhaps my people could live there when it is safe?”

  Aveline stared at the drak. She couldn’t imagine the stench of death would ever leave the mine. Regardless, the decision did not belong to her. “Your help would be welcome. I can’t make promises about the mine, but I will speak to the Lord Mayor of Curton about it on your behalf.”

  “Very well. I will speak to High Elder Klatt and return in the morning.” The drak bowed, gesturing for his companions to follow him as he left the camp. A quick inspection showed they hadn’t disturbed her things much, and Aveline set to work rebuilding her fire.

  “Damn it. I should have asked them if they had any meat I could trade for.”

  Chapter 30

  Tasha viewed the remains of her house. The smell of mold and rotting vegetation permeated the air. Taking shallow breaths to stave off the stench, she debated the value of entering it to salvage anything further. Her pack bulged, full of clothes that had remained dry. She hoped exposing them to the outdoor air would return them to wearable condition as they appeared to be unaffected by the devastation wrought upon her other possessions. Korbin and Revan observed from their perch on her roof.

  “Lady Tasha! Lady Tasha!” A young boy rushed toward her. His sandy hair fell into his eyes when he stopped in front of her, panting.

  “I’m not nobility.” She placed her hand on the child’s shoulder to steady him. “What do you need?”

  “Lord Mayor Koloman sent me to find you.” He gulped air in between words, like a fish flopping at the bottom of a fisherman’s boat. “He wishes to see you at once.”

  Tasha sighed. “What does that fo—” She caught herself before insulting him in front of one who might relay her sentiments to the Lord Mayor. “At his home, I expect?”

  “Yes, I am to bring you straightaway.”

  Of course. Never mind what I’m doing.

  Lifting her pack, she gestured down the street. “Lead the way then.”

  As she followed the boy, her crows flitted from rooftop to rooftop, and her mind reeled with conjecture. Enduring Koloman’s attempts at seduction sat pretty low on her list of desired activities for the day, preferable only to being stabbed. The child led her past the bakery where the aroma of freshly baked fruit pies wafted into the street. Feeling her stomach grumbling, she made a mental note to return there after her meeting with the Lord Mayor to purchase at least one pie for mood improvement purposes.

  Soon after, they arrived at the gate of Koloman’s estate. Rickon, who stood guard, opened the gate to let her pass. “Back to the stable, boy. There’s stalls that need mucking out.”

  “I did that already.”

  “No lip.” Planting a boot on the child’s backside, the guard shoved him away. “Do it again.”

  Tasha glared at Rickon. “The next time you get an itch in your nethers, don’t expect a salve from me.”

  “Heard your shop was destroyed in the flood, so I wasn’t expecting it anyway. Unlike his lordship, who is expecting you.” The guard pointed up the walk toward the house.

  Shaking her head, Tasha entered the estate. The crows flew over the fence. Revan perched on the broken lamppost while Korbin alighted on her shoulder. Proceeding toward the entrance, she called toward Rickon, “You were nicer before you worked for him. He taints everyone around him, you know.”

  Alik pulled the door open before Tasha could knock. “Lord Koloman awaits you in his study.”

  “Thank you, Alik.”

  Nodding at Revan, he put an arm across the door before she entered. “Your… pet? I don’t think Lord Koloman would…”

  Tasha stroked Revan’s neck. “Lord Koloman can deal with it. Things are different now.”

  How different, Tasha had yet to determine, but she would not allow her confidence to waver in front of the Lord Mayor or anyone associated with him.

  “As I said, in the study.”

  “Thank you.” Tasha turned down the hall. Koloman sat in the chair facing the cold hearth, a half-full glass of brandy in one hand and an open bottle in the other. His hair lay at all angles from his head, uncharacteristically unkempt.

  “You wanted to see me, Lord Mayor?” Tasha struggled to conceal impatience and contempt from her tone.

  He sat still in his chair. “I understand you and Lady Aveline went to the mine to rescue the abducted townsfolk?”

  “Yes, a wizard performed foul experiments on them.” Tasha circled his chair to face him. She recoiled from his rough appearance. Bags accented his bloodshot eyes, and several days of stubble covered his normally impeccably shaven face. “Unfortunately, none survived. Even now, Lady Aveline is organizing their burial. They deserve to be remembered with honor, at least. Perhaps they’ll find peace in the next life.”

  “They were all whores, weren’t they? Why bother?” He drained his glass, then filled it again from the bottle.

  “How they earned a living is immaterial.” Tasha clenched her jaw. Revan shifted on her shoulder. “How they died was terrible. They deserve better than to be left to rot at the bottom of an abandoned mine.”

  “I care not.” He raised his head. “Dark have been my dreams of late. I have seen a man. A shadow in dark robes, like one of Aita’s shepherds.”

  Tasha’s brow furrowed. “Has this man a name?”

  “He says nothing, but I sense he wants something from me.” Koloman drank from his glass. “When I awake, I feel as though I have not slept. You will make a sleeping draught. One that will make me sleep with no dreams.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Koloman flung his glass, brandy and all, into the hearth where it shattered. “You will! I command it.”

  Tasha’s amulet glowed with a dim green light, and she felt the cloak grow warm. “I cannot. My shop was ruined in the flood. I lost everything. And even if I hadn’t, I am not an alchemist. You’ll need to send away to Cliffport for it.”

  He drank from his bottle, then glanced at her, drawing a shaky breath. “Why is there a bird on your shoulder?”

  “The Crow Queen has returned.” As if in agreement, Revan cawed.

  “She knows of dreams.” He shrugged. “So the stories tell.”

  Uh-oh. Tasha bit her lip to keep from grimacing. “If I see her, I’ll tell her you have questions about dreams.”

  “Fine. If you can’t help, then leave. Tell Lady Aveline I wish to see her at once.”

  “Lady Aveline… yes, I will tell her when I see her.” Spinning, Tasha left the study. Flapping his wings to maintain his balance, Revan settled when she slowed her pace in the hallway. She stroked Revan again, smiling as she passed Alik on the way ou
t.

  “Did you hear? The Crow Queen has returned.” She straightened her feathered cloak as she stepped on to the porch. Tasha held out her hand toward Korbin, who left the lamppost to land in her palm. She turned toward Alik.

  The old man stared, his mouth agape. “Annika died ages ago.”

  “I didn’t say Annika was back. I told you, things are different now.”

  * * *

  Invigorated with confidence following her visit to Lord Mayor Koloman’s estate, Tasha returned to the bakery. She let Korbin and Revan fly free once Koloman’s house was out of sight. Each time she told someone or hinted she was the Crow Queen, Tasha felt a surge of power from the feathered cloak. Approval, perhaps? It seemed obvious the cloak was no ordinary garment, that it exhibited a sort of awareness. If not true consciousness, then, at least, it possessed an empathic sense urging her toward certain actions.

  It remained silent on the subject of pies, however, so Tasha chose a blueberry galette to take home and a couple of meat-filled buns so she’d have something savory to go with the sweet. She planned to keep a slice or two for herself, then share the rest with the neighborhood children. When she exited the bakery, she noticed several crows perched on nearby rooftops. They followed her as she navigated the winding streets, her own personal, feathered entourage. Approaching Aveline’s home, Tasha noticed a group of young children darting here and there on the street as their parents tried to bring a semblance of normalcy into their post-flood lives.

  Tasha enjoyed her slice of pie in the privacy of Aveline’s home, setting aside an additional slice before cutting the rest of it into smaller slices than she served herself. She took the pie outside to sit on Aveline’s stoop. Crows alighted on the roof and on those of the surrounding homes. Before calling the children over to share, Tasha sent Korbin and Revan to the mine so she could check on Aveline. Once satisfied the crows understood her instructions, she called to Aveline’s neighbors and offered them slices of pie in exchange for stories about the Crow Queen.

  A young girl with an unruly mop of dark hair framing her piercing blue eyes shoveled pie into her mouth with her hands as she spoke. “Me mother says the Crow Queen was a wrinkled hag what made the crops grow… but would eat your babies if you asked her for a favor.”