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

all of the kingdom’s commercial fishermen and women to buy scorpion sand strikers.  They sometimes to show up in nets and traps, ripped out of their tunnels when they hit a fish that’s being dragged in a trawler net. The money was so good that a few people gave up regular fishing and became serious experts in catching strikers,” I said.  “Now, do you think it’s been dusted with venom?” I asked with a wave at the golden object.

“No.” She shook her head.  “I get a feeling from it. I think it’s been touched by an eslling.”

I couldn’t help my frown. “I’m aware of natural talismans and certain crystals that can aid and influence eslling talents, and Finders use Finder’s stones, but an object created to change people? Mass produced?”

She visibly pulled back a bit, maybe to gather herself. After a few seconds, she leaned forward.

“You are a Finder. A pretty powerful one, from what I can tell,” she said.

I snorted because Finding isn’t all that powerful a Talent.

“You dismiss your own ability, yet that ability is part of a branch of Talent that includes Knowing, the ability to touch an object and know about it or who last used it or what happened near it,” she said. “It is as closely related as my ability as a Reader is to the abilities of the albino who shadows your princess.”

“She is your princess too,” I said.

She raised one brow.  “Please don’t insult me, Captain.  Your relationship with the crown princess is much, much different than anyone else’s.”  She held up both hands at my expression. “And completely your business.  My intent was to point out that her Reader’s talent is related to my own, and yours is related to Knowing. And I am aware of a few Knowers who could not only read an object but do the opposite—they could impress an object with their power.”

I’m pretty well versed on eslling Talents, between my own and Brona’s collection of special rescues, and I knew how to create my own Finder’s stones, but I’d never caught wind of something like this.

“See, that’s why you must speak up,” I said.  “This is all news to me.”

“It is extraordinarily uncommon,” she said.  “My mother’s family was mostly Talented and had been for more than a few generations. We had a body of knowledge, passed down by word of mouth, parent to child.”

“Had?” I asked gently.

“They were killed in the last war with Sylvania,” she said, holding my gaze, her eyes shimmering ever so slightly with just a trace of what might well be pent-up tears.

“The Paul’s forces or our own?” I asked in a moment of intuition.

She pulled back, eyebrows up in surprise.  “Ours,” she answered slowly, her expression transitioning from vulnerable to curious.

“Regular military or my people?”

“Cavalry,” she said.  “We were evacuating our village.  A mounted force came upon us on the road, suddenly and violently, charging through without regard.  Scared our horses.  The road was deep in the mountains and it was a sheer drop-off on one side.  My family wagon went off that side. I was riding in another wagon.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She nodded. “That’s what the RRS squad leader said.  She came upon us that night as we tried to bandage our injured and fix the few remaining wagons.  She had her people round up as many of our horses as they could and her medic treated the wounded, then they disappeared like ghosts.”

“Kassa, I’m pleased to hear that my fellow Squadron mates showed such compassion, but I can’t tell you that we didn’t make any mistakes of our own,” I said.

“She said almost exactly as much.  She also said that her commander would skin any RRS operators who didn’t render aid as long as it didn’t jeopardize their mission.  She didn’t think much of the regular military.  She did, however, seem to think a great deal of you, as did the rest of her squad.”

“Yet I get the feeling you view me about like you might a death rattler?”

“I am wary of your Forester’s pet cat too,” she said.  “Watching normal people interact with you, it is clear that some part of them, either consciously or unconsciously, recognizes the need for caution. But to one such as I, you quite simply radiate danger—like the heat of a fire.”

“All my people are dangerous, and Jella is a battlemaster,” I said.

She nodded.  “Yes, but you out radiate them, even the Drodacian. There’s also the matter of the crown princess. I’ve seen her from a fairly close distance.  She was in a carriage and I was on the street, but it was close enough.  She is… different,” she said, eyes watching me cautiously.

“You think so?” I asked, keeping my tone mild.

“She is extremely… focused.  Deadly focused.  It’s no secret that she’s fully committed to her kingdom.”

“True,” I said.

“In a different way than her father.  Her commitment is… singular,” she said, clearly choosing her words with care.

“I think the word you are looking for is ruthless,” I said.

“Among several,” she agreed.  “And you are, by an enormous margin, her favorite weapon.”

“I am,” I acknowledged.  “I’m not sure why that scares you though, especially when you chose to join our team.”

“The leader of the cavalry troop who ran us off the road was ruthless too, but he was also both careless and uncaring.  Your princess is more than that.  Her intelligence is like a beacon to my Talent.  She smiles and waves to the people, looking the part of the beautiful princess. And she hands out food to the hungry, runs orphanages and shelters for the destitute.  But under those perfect looks is a mind that sees everything, plots constantly, calculates all the odds.  Behind that smile is a master Rik player, always ten steps ahead of everyone else.”

“She scares you; I scare you… yet here you are?”

“She would never run a family off the road unless it was absolutely imperative.  She’s not careless, reckless, or unthinking.  She feeds her people, provides clothes