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

“Then describe it better,” she said, a challenge in her eyes.

I gave her a glare back, but she wasn’t fooled.  So instead, I took up the challenge and concentrated on the feeling in my hand, or rather the palm of my hand.  It took a few seconds to decipher, but what I had called an itch was really more of a pulse—a very, very fast pulse, almost more like a buzzing, or… vibration.

“It’s vibrating,” I said.

She smiled and nodded, waving a hand for more.  I moved my hand upward, farther away, and the buzz diminished in power but not speed.  I pushed closer and the vibration picked up intensity.  A little closer and I suddenly felt anger, not my own but someone else’s.  I pulled back and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“It’s generating emotion—anger, maybe even rage,” I said, raising my eyebrows at her.

“If you say so,” she said.  “I can only tell that it’s not normal, but I don’t pick up anything else. Not my wheelhouse—more yours, I’d say.”

“Thank you, oh mystic teacher,” I growled out, but she only laughed.

“It might take you some time to suss it out,” she said, “being as this is all new, but with some time and experimentation, it might well be possible.”

A knock came at the door and I covered the artifact with its silk wrapping before speaking.  “Come in.”

The door opened and Cort’s face popped in.  “You both need to see this,” he said, moving his head to indicate something outside the room.

Chapter 23

We followed him out of the private room and out of the inn, then across the street, around a corner, and down a short alley. It was cold, and a light mist had slicked the road and buildings with moisture. At the brick wall at the end of the alley, Cort started to climb a roof drainage pipe, not bothering to look back at us.

Kassa looked a bit intimidated but she still stepped forward and put her hands on the lowest brackets that held the pipe.  I pointed out a foothold and she gamely started to climb.  Luckily, she still wore the trousers that Soshi had insisted she travel in rather than a dress.  When she was half again my height above the ground, I started to follow, watching to be sure she didn’t fall.  I pointed out one handhold and two footholds, but that was the only help she needed. Up on the roof, Cort waited long enough to see us standing steadily on the wet tiles before turning and moving up to the peak.  We followed his lead, both ducking down when he did so as to cautiously poke our heads over the top.

Below us, a crowd had formed on the street that ran parallel to our building. Actually, it was two separate crowds, one on either side, facing off.

“The side directly below is Berkette; the ones across the street are from Mandrigo,” Cort whispered.  “Soshi’s on the roof of the building across from us. Drew is down below to the left.”

I looked across and found my team sniper behind a chimney on the street side of the roof, curled in a sort of stuffed kneeling position that I couldn’t have copied, a special long-barreled bolter in her right hand. The chimney both hid her small frame and kept her from sliding off the roof. She was watching to see when I would notice her and waved as soon as she saw me looking.  I nodded, knowing her sharp eyes would pick up the small motion.  She used her free hand to signal clear for action.  Most snipers wouldn’t signal that without a tuned crossbow and a stable hide, but Soshi was a different sort altogether.  I had no doubt she could hit most of the targets below her with just a handheld bolter, particularly that one.

When we had been in the alley, we hadn’t heard anything, but now, peering over the roofline, the noise of the crowds was obvious. Most of the sound was cheering or booing, along with a healthy amount of curse words.  But it was only the two spokespeople whose voices were clear. A man from Mandrigo was squared off against a woman from the Berkette side, each yelling at the other.  It was an orderly sort of argument, with one waiting for the other to finish before replying.  The boos and cheers were the crowds’ responses.

“You’re nothing but slaves to a handful of families!” the woman yelled out.  “Property of the queen and her nobles!”

“Our royal family has proven itself over and over while your oligarchy is simply corrupt and spineless!” the man yelled back.

“You overfish the ocean and overcharge your customers, all to pay a greedy queen.”

“We fish our ancestral waters with respect while you live off the fruits of our labors, paying just nails on the rustie for every lobster, crab, oyster, and fish we risk our lives to catch.”

“They’ve been at this for at least twenty minutes,” Cort whispered.  He probably could have spoken at full volume and no one would have heard him, but Shadows are cautious for a reason.

Both of the spokespeople were pacing back and forth on their respective side of the street, and I saw a glimmer of gold when the man turned. I glanced around at the other people on the street and started to pick up little flickers of gold and silver about chest height as more of the artifacts caught the yellow light of Porye’s street torches.

“Have any of them come to blows?” I whispered back.

“That’s the odd thing—no. It’s been going on like this almost since it started, yet nobody’s thrown so much as a punch, despite all the shit talk.  Er, excuse my language,” Cort hastily apologized to Kassa.  She waved his embarrassment away as inconsequential, her attention focused on the scene below.

“It might take an amplifier of some kind,” she whispered.

I caught her meaning right