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

“There are plates in that cabinet you’re sitting on, along with spoons and forks,” Freyla said to Jella as she waved the serving girl to the table and began to transfer the contents from the tray.

“There is fresh bread, cheese, butter, beer, wine, and fish stew,” the waitress said. “The kitchen shut down an hour ago, but the soup was still hot.”

“That soup is quite good,” Freyla said, her tone a little defensive.

“It smells excellent,” I said.  “We are lucky you have it at all, arriving this time of night.”

Freyla nodded once, eyes on me as my murder descended upon the food and drink.

Chapter 21

Conversation ended temporarily while my people ate. The waitress retreated from the room, casting us a few curious glances as she went.

“How fast will word get out of our arrival?” I asked, watching the girl leave.

“From her?  Never.  My people don’t talk.  But I can’t say the same for anyone who saw you enter tonight.  Certainly by this time tomorrow, Captain.  You are, after all, well known in Montshire, as are a few of your companions, such as the famous Trell here,” Freyla said, although her eyes flicked Jella’s way briefly.

“Hmm. Okay—assignments,” I said.  “Cort, Drew, and Soshi, you’re on pub patrol. Hey, wipe those smiles off your faces and keep your wits about you.  Observe.  Trell, you do what you do so well.  Jella—” She had had her bowl up to her mouth, swigging the last of her soup, and now she set it down and fixed her steely gaze on me.

“I’m out,” she said, to which I merely nodded.  What she meant was she would ghost about the town, likely check on Yawl, who would be just outside the community limits, and possibly even sleep in the woods.  And somehow learn all kinds of interesting details.

“Kassa, you and I will stay here,” I said with a nod toward the wrapped object.  “The less I’m out and about, the better.”

“Still hours left before the pubs close, so I’m off,” Trell said, picking up his wrapped lute and pausing to look at his other instruments.

“They’ll be safe,” I said to him.  “We’ll put them in our rooms, along with the rest of the gear.”

“We have time to canvas a couple of likely information sources as well,” Drew said, which earned him a snort from Soshi and a wicked grin from Cort.

“Speaking of rooms, I have set one aside for the women and two for the men.  They’re on the end of the hall upstairs, two on one side, one across the hall.  Facilities are halfway down the hall.”

“Do the two on the same side connect?” I asked.  It was a feature that some of the better inns included in at least a few rooms.

“Yes,” Freyla said with a look like I had insulted her child.

“We’ll put all the men there,” I said. “Trell, head on out.  You three, grab some gear and haul it upstairs.  Jella, have a good night.”

“Aye, Captain,” Drew said.  Soshi nodded and Cort snapped off a salute.  Funny thing is that when he does that, he actually means it. There’s no flippancy or sarcasm in his actions.

Jella nodded at the group and slipped out the door, taking her small pack and weapons.  Her saddlebags were left behind.  Trell left just behind her, while the other three loaded up like pack mules and hauled the baggage upstairs, leaving just Kassa and myself—along with Freyla.

I turned my gaze on her and she returned it with calm curiosity.  After a moment, she blinked.  “I’ll trust you to take care with that,” she said.  “I don’t need any Recon warriors running amok in my business.”

My right eyebrow lifted all on its own as I processed her words.  She blinked again and stood up quickly.  She paused, as if deliberately slowing her motions, and then left the room at a sedate pace.

Once the door clicked shut, I turned back to find Kassa watching me with a slightly wary expression.  “I hardly ever run amok these days,” I said with a little smile.

Her eyes widened a tiny bit, like my attempt at breaking the ice surprised her.  “Sounds like a thing to be avoided,” she said carefully.

“Well, as they say, with age comes wisdom,” I said, shrugging.  “Now, what do you make of all this?”

“This situation?  Or this artifact?”

“Yes.”

She frowned and thought about it.  “Personality alteration can be done with drugs and certain toxins,” she said.  “For instance, the scorpion sand striker, which is found in these waters, produces a toxin that in small doses can completely transform a normal well-adjusted individual into a crazed maniac.”

“I’m familiar with it,” I said.

“Oh, right.  It’s sometimes hard to remember who and what you people are.  Other times, like when you were staring down our hostess, it’s terrifyingly clear.”

“I understand. I felt the same way when I first met Jella.  Trell mentioned a similar feeling several times as he’s gotten used to us,” I said, although I doubted that Kassa had actually forgotten anything about us for even an instant.

“I should probably defer any conversations about toxic substances to you,” she said, watching me with that alert, careful gaze.

“Never hesitate to include any piece of information that you think might be germane.  We happen to be well versed in toxins, and particularly well with scorpion striker venom—it’s what we used to poison the woldling hordes,” I said. “But we don’t know everything.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening again.  “That makes a certain sense.  Make them crazy… crazier, and then set them against each other.”

“Exactly.  Woldlings have a high tolerance for drugs and poisons in general, but not that one, and they’re pretty close to manic at the best of times.  Plus, the venom is extremely potent and concentrated, which made transporting sufficient doses easier.”

“The defense ministry said the RRS poisoned thousands of woldlings. Where did you get so much?”

“It took months to obtain.  We offered expensive bounties to