A Flight of Ravens by John Conroe (thriller books to read TXT) 📗

was the one silver-furred female we had tangled with in Pit.

“It’s not her,” Jella said, reading my expression.

“Another eslling woldling?”

“There is no sign of Talent, Savid, just very good woodscraft and intelligence,” she said.

“What path did it take?”

She understood my question.  “It’s circled Haven at least twice, pausing to watch the city numerous times.  I think it’s trying to find a way in.”

Woldlings could sneak, they could ambush, and even evade when they were scared enough to run.  But undetected infiltration?  I had never seen it.  Woldlings could and would scale a wall and kill guards before attacking a town or city.  But they weren’t spies, or operatives like RRS.  Their ingrained aggression made that degree of patience impossible… or at least it had so far.

“I don’t like this… new smart woldlings or woldlings with eslling talents,” I said.

“The silver one was extremely unique, more valuable than that woman Lash,” Jella said, “which makes me think she is one of a kind.  This one is different.  It’s careful and smart. We found one deer carcass, hung up in a tree.  The sign showed it had returned to the carcass several times to feed, rather than try to kill another deer.”

Woldlings are not great hunters, at least of natural-born animals with excellent senses and hard-won wariness.  They have no ingrained hunting instincts, just what they learn from each other, and usually they die too young to learn and teach a great deal.  They also don’t plan. This was like an entirely different kind of woldling—seemingly capable of planning.  And for it to evade both Jella and Yawl for several days was incredible.

“There was a report of a pig taken from a Drodacian farm.  Just one pig, and the farmer couldn’t identify the predator,” I said.

Her single brow raised again as she thought about it.  “Where?”

“Almost directly between here and Sylvania,” I said.

“I left Yawl outside; she’s following it.  But I want to get back out there, so you need to ratchet up the Shadows and alert your princess.”

“The Shadows are already on the alert, just for different reasons,” I said, then explained Lady Rubella Dominick’s code phrase attempts.

She stared at me, her tricky mind deep in thought.  “You might need more candidates for the Lash to query,” she finally said.

“That’s what Brona said.  The sticky part is that her imprisonment is a secret.  Even the king’s council doesn’t know about it.  Believe me: There would be noise if the High Families found out.”

“Well, there’s your answer… leak the info and see who insists on seeing her,” Jella said as if it were obvious.  “If she’s wrung out for intel, use her for bait.”

“The dry goat gets tethered?” I asked, throwing out a favorite Drodacian saying.  Goats are a favored livestock in that rugged mountain country.

“Of course.  You’re going to eat the goat, anyway. Might as well lure in the little wolves before you start the roast.”

“Hmm, that idea has merit, although it’s not without risks,” I said.

She cuffed at my head but I leaned back, my eyes watching her torso to pick up on any other potential strikes.

“You must always take risks,” she admonished.  “Now, I must liberate supplies from your cook before I head back out.”

“Talk about taking risks,” I said.

“Truth.  Your Brin is fierce with her cleaver.”

Chapter 7

“Savid, dear. You came,” Mother said, finding me within moments of my arrival.

“Family duty, Mother, and all that,” I said.

“Bumppets!  Since when did that matter?” she asked.  My mother knew me too well.

“In truth, Brona insisted,” I said.  “She said that it was an important event and if she was representing the crown, then I could damned well back her up when she faced the DelaCrotia wolves.”

My mother laughed.  “That sounds like her, although I think she is easily capable of facing all of the DelaCrotia men at the same time,” she said.  Then she leaned close.  “Athough, rumor has it that the crown has imprisoned Lady Dominick.  She might face some venom without her father here to back her up.”

“She has plenty of antidote, Mother,” I said, refusing to bite on her bait.  “Ah, here comes the proud father of the hour.”

My brother, Gracid, was arrowing straight for us, a smug look on his puffy face.  Heads turned as other guests settled in to observe our meeting.

“I’d ask you not to encourage the servants, Mother, but I see this one is transporting fine jewelry beyond his worth,” my brother greeted us as he stepped close, his eyes locked on my chest where the Kingdom Cross hung on its blue and white sash over my formal attire.

“Isn’t this what you wear to a one-month-old’s birthday?” I asked.

“But whatever will you wear to the next one?” a new voice asked.  My other brother, Tallen, had joined the fray.

“Anything but that,” Gracid said, frowning.  “Really, Savid, must you upstage your own nephew’s naming day?”

“Ah, but I was commanded to appear for the honor of the clan,” I said.  “Bearing all trappings of family status.”

“Why are you all clumped up together… you should be treating with guests,” my father interrupted.  “Ah, Savid.  Good; you wore the damned thing for once.”

“We just all gravitate to Mother,” Tallen said offhandedly.

“Well, gravitate to the damned guests,” Rucian DelcaCrotia said.  “This gathering is costing a ton of good steel. The least we can do is work the crowd.  Gracid, come talk with Bishop Miller so we can get this show underway.”

He led Gracid toward the head of the Church of the Apostle of the Punished, who was honoring the family by blessing Ircian on his name day.

“Play nice, you two. I must greet Lady Olden, who is much distraught at the news of Lady Dominick,” Mother said, sweeping away in a cloud of perfume.

I turned to my second brother, finding him staring at me with a hard look in his eyes.  It disappeared almost as soon as I saw it, but I swear for a moment he was either angry with me or hated me, or both.

“I