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

But anything mechanically more sophisticated than a water wheel or a pulley was forbidden. In fact, the four religions were so alike that it was a wonder they hadn’t merged into one.  The current, and very quietly bandied, theory was that each church’s leadership was loath to relinquish its power to any of the others.  The result was an unspoken but extremely steadfast agreement to keep out of each other’s territory.

“I do. We all heard her tell us of the Assembly’s actions regarding Tainted artifacts.  Now we find Deacon Kittleby here on Montshire soil, attempting to stop his flock from fighting with their Mandrigan neighbors who were, until recently, allies.”

A patterned knock came at the door, the four beat cadence telling us it was Trell.

Cort, who was closest to the door, opened it to admit the cheerful yet weary-looking bard.

“There you all are.  Did you hear of the riot?” he asked, glancing around at our faces.  Then his excitement fell.  “Of course you did. You were probably in the thick of it.”

“We observed it,” I said.

“And intervened,” Freyla said from the door Trell had left open.  She slipped through and closed it behind her.  “Forgot to mention that little tidbit, didn’t you?” she asked me.

“I told you the riot broke up,” I said, keeping a civil tone.

“But you didn’t explain that it was you and your people who broke it up,” she said.  Her face was hard to read.  She was neither smiling nor frowning, instead wearing an expressionless mask.  But her eyes glinted with interest.

Still trying to get a handle on her, I just raised my brows.

“You’ve been here just a few hours and already demonstrated proscribed devices to the Holy Assembly,” she said.  “Hardly the careful work of the renowned Shadows, now is it?”

“Last time I checked, Raven Freyla, Porye was still Montshire territory, not the jurisdiction of the Holy Assembly of Reformed Wickedness.  And as it is part of the kingdom, stopping foreign forces from fighting on our land is damned well part and parcel of our charter.”

“The way I heard it, the visiting deacon was mere moments from being overrun by an angry mob of Mandrigans,” Trell said.  “That would seem to fall under the category of international incident.”

“Fair noted, wise bard,” Freyla said.  “It may be that I’m more used to the Shadows causing international incidents than stopping them.  However, flaunting illegal technology in front of any church’s high officials seems… reckless.”

“What is it you want, Raven?” I asked.

She made a show of glancing around at us.  “I’ve been here for over fifteen years, working my way into the very fabric of this town, gaining the trust of the most important players here.  In that decade, I’ve pulled in more intelligence that your entire team combined, and during all that time, the closest I’ve come to having my true affiliations known is this evening—by your actions.”

“I understand,” I said, nodding.  “Putting everything into maintaining a cover is hard, a full-time job.  It can consume you and eventually, it can make you forget why you’re actually doing it in the first place.  I’m glad we could remind you of what’s really important: protecting Montshire.  Intelligence is only good if it is acted upon.  Having your ear to the wall is only useful if it doesn’t burn down while you’re pressed up against it.”

That got a reaction.  Her carefully guarded expression flickered with anger before resettling into its frozen mask.  “From now on, at least grant me the professional courtesy of warning me before you blow up foreign dignitaries.”

“If there’s time.  There are moments, Raven, when you must act instantly.”

“You and your team are here because of what I observed and reported.  But I can’t do my job to get you intel if you don’t return the favor,” she said.

“Then by all means, pull up a seat,” I said.

She looked a little pissy, her arms crossed, and she chose to lean against the window frame rather than find an actual seat.

I turned back to Trell.  “What have you found out?”

He glanced at Freyla, then back at me. I nodded for him to go ahead.  Sharing intelligence with our sister service was a complicated issue, fraught with pitfalls, yet still required. Like walking the edge of a very sharp blade.

“I visited three establishments: the Twisted Line, the Sailor’s Rest, and the Ale’s Well,” Trell said. “The first seemed heavily trafficked by Mandrigan fishermen.  Oddly, most of them weren’t complaining about Berkette; in fact, many of them seemed worried by what’s happening.”

“Did you see any necklaces?” I asked, holding up the silk-wrapped artifact.

“Only when I was out on the street.  Not a one in the pub.  Ale’s Well was like that too, but it was thick with businessmen from Berkette.  A lot of seafood buyers and purveyors of other merchandise.  Quieter lot than the fisherfolk but displaying a bit of anxiety.   But the Sailor’s Rest was different.  It was mostly locals, citizens of Montshire, and some transplants who live here full-time.  I got an earful there.”

I glanced at Freyla and she nodded.  “He’s got the right of it.  The Twisted Line is down on the docks and has always been big with fisherfolk and sailors, both local and those just in port to sell their catches.  Not that long ago, the fish buyers would hang there too and many a deal was made.  Lately, not so much.  And I’ve heard that the other two had become pretty territorial as well.”

“What did the kind folk of Porye have to say?” I asked Trell.

“They knew me right away, of course, and that’s why I think I was told as much.  See, I didn’t even have to eavesdrop; they came right to me.  Seem to think I have the king’s ear,” Trell said.

“They know this tension is unnatural and like our good hostess here, they’ve seen those gold and silver necklaces around the necks of the troublemakers.  They begged me to ask the king for help.”

“And did they have any suggestions as