A Flight of Ravens by John Conroe (books to improve english .TXT) 📕

The night passed quickly and Jella had us up early, our camp broken, packed, and the lot of us back on horseback before the sun had fully risen.  The day was cold but clear and we were able to spend our second night at a modest but warm inn in Hamptonia, a small village on the King’s Highway.  Shadows are used to moving fast and roughing it, but the inn gave us solid rest and more importantly, solid rest and food for our mounts in cold winter conditions.  It was worth the slight delay of standard accommodations over field expediency to be sure our horses were fresh for the rest of the trip.

We camped on the third night and made Porye well after dark of the fourth day.  Everyone was exhausted as our horses trudged through the streets of the ancient port town.  History said that Porye was built on the ruins of a Punished city, one that had been old when the Punishment happened.  The streets were a patchwork of brick, gravel, and blackstone—the last being the roadbuilding material of choice of the Punished.  It wasn’t anything magical or even too technical, but it also hadn’t ever been duplicated on the scale that the Punished had employed it.

The smell of saltwater filled the air and the temperature was quite a few degrees warmer than Haven had been.  The streets were well lit with torches but curiously quiet.  We hardly saw a handful of people.  That was unusual, as despite the late hour, a port town really never sleeps.  This didn’t feel like sleeping, though. It felt more like waiting… like watching.

We found the Lost Lobster easily enough, as Trell had played there once.  It was one of the bigger inns we’d seen in Porye and even though the night was actually closer to morning, there were still grooms to take and stable our horses.  I noticed one who ran inside the inn as well.

We entered, coming into a barroom that was well occupied but not overly noisy. A pair of big, heavily muscled men were seated on stools on either side of the entry. The lady behind the bar took one look at us and called one of her serving girls to take her place, her eyes never leaving us.

“That was pretty quick,” she said as she approached.  Tall, just a hand’s length shorter than me, she had dark hair streaked with gray, brown eyes, and sharp, severe features.  She had a few spare pounds on her frame, but she still looked tough enough to toss a drunk out of her bar.  Although the two bouncers who were now standing and staring holes in us probably made that a pretty uncommon occurrence, there was still something in her eyes that made me think she’d done much worse in her time.  “Follow me,” she said without even a word of introduction.

Without yet saying a word, we trailed her to a private dining room, the hired muscle in our wake.

Inside the room, she turned and her eyes went to her security guys, now standing in the doorway.

“I’m good. Go keep an eye on Molly.  Make sure nobody thinks they can scare her into freebies.  And have Cara bring these folks some ale and food.”

“Are you sure, ma’am?” one of the two hulks asked in a voice like rocks grinding.

“Absolutely,” she said.  The men nodded respectfully and left, closing the door behind them.  “Like they would make a difference, right?” she asked us.

“Freyla Slost?” I said.

“Of course, Captain DelaCrotia. Who did you expect?” she said back.

I ran a quick glance over my people, catching Kassa’s nod as my eyes passed over her.

“You asked for help, Raven.  Help is here,” I said.

She was silent for a moment, pulling back to study me and then giving the rest of my team a look over.  Whatever she saw, she kept it to herself.

“There is a serious problem here, Captain.  During the time of your travels, the situation has devolved much further.”

“Tell us about it,” I said, pulling out a chair at the big dining table and sitting down.  Instantly, Trell and Kassa did as well.  Jella chose to jump nimbly on a sideboard set against the wall.  Cort and Drew moved to either side of the door, leaning back against the wall, all relaxed looking.  I knew they could move very quickly should a surprise come through the door.  Soshi pulled a chair at the other end of the table, spun it around, and sat backward on it, arms folded over the top of the back, her hands very close to the sleeves that I knew each held a bolter.

Freyla took all of us in, and her eyes were sharp.  I don’t think she was missing much.

“My father was a member of the Squadron,” she said softly.  “I have some idea of what you do, as I suspect you have an idea of what I do.”

I just nodded and waited.

“Some time ago, maybe two weeks, maybe almost a whole month, a number of altercations began to take place,” she began.  “Porye is a very old town; the port was founded long before the Punishment took place.  Our kingdom’s boundaries with Mandrigo and Berkette are almost unchanged since that time. The Montshire coast is only thirty t-spans long, so our northern and southern neighbors are real close. Relationships in this town have been stable for decades, if not even longer.  Of course, we have seen the Sylvanian bullshit that the Paul attempts from time to time but between our allies, things have been, as I say, solid. Till now.”

“What did these altercations look like?” Jella asked.

Freyla turned and looked at my Drodacian teacher.  “At first, arguments and disagreements over business transactions.  That happens everywhere, of course, and is a natural element of commerce.  But this was different.  The frequency and intensity were much more than anything I’ve seen in my fifteen years here.  Suddenly normal negotiations broke down and became crazy schisms that