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

apart from the rest.  During that time, the Nuk prepared, learned, adapted.  It was enough to survive, and eventually, for us to thrive.”

“The rest?” I asked.  “Surely you don’t speak of the Western Lands.  That’s just myth.”

“Every myth contains at least a kernel of truth,” Andru said.  “This one has a whole boulder.”

I glanced at Kassa.  She pulled her eyes from the Nuk and gave me a nod.  “He believes it.”

Then I glanced at Jella and found her watching me, her face blank.  Drodacians rarely do blank, and Jella is as emotional as the rest of her people.  Maybe even more so.  I raised one brow in question.  A frown flickered across her face.  “You asked the question,” I said.  “However, we have moved away from our goal.  So let me cut to the quick—do all the Nuk support your cause, or just some?”

He frowned, his shaggy brows coming almost together, but it was more of a thoughtful frown than an angry one.  “Perhaps as many as a quarter of my people favor seizing land in the northernmost portion of Mandrigo.  But most are too proud of our history to seek what they consider an easy and dishonorable answer to our problems.  They want to fight for survival using the old ways.  They also worry about war with men. But they miss the bigger picture.”

“And what’s the bigger picture?” I asked.

“We’re dying off.  Once, not that terribly long ago, we were numerous.  Maybe not like you breeders, but we were thriving,” he said.

“Until the wars,” Jella said.

He looked at her, his face a mask of anger, but it didn’t seem directed at her. Finally, he nodded.

“What wars?” Cort asked.

“I think they’re talking about the War of Founding,” Trell said, bringing up a piece of history that more than a few in Montshire thought to be only fiction.

“That was just one of several,” Jella agreed.  “In the first century after the Punishment, when the countries of Nengled were sorting themselves out, there were numerous upheavals, conflicts, and attempts at empire building.  My people stayed in our mountains, watching the carnage from afar, knowing that nobody had the sheer numbers required to dig us out.  During that period, there were several times that the Nuk chose to attack what was to become Montshire and Mandrigo, usually when they appeared to be weak.  Instead of inflicting a knockout blow against wounded foes, they only enraged the two kingdoms, which forged them into an alliance.  The resulting battles made the Great River run red.  Thousands from the kingdoms were killed, fewer of the Nuk.  But the Nuk were always fewer to begin with.”

“Had we done it just once, it would have been all right,” Andru said.  “But we tried it three times, killing almost a third of our people before our most hotheaded and ambitious leaders were all dead and we could retreat to our lairs. But the ice is an unforgiving mistress.  We never recovered those numbers.  And the loss of so many young men and women left us with too many elders and young.  So much so that many elders took the Ice Walk to spare their lairs more mouths to feed.  Unfortunately, they took their wisdom, knowledge, and skills with them.”

“Why not trade in metals and then just buy your food?” Cort asked.  “From what you say, the Nuk must have a tremendous amount of steel to salvage.”

Andru grimaced. “Some of us have suggested as much.  There is a cultural bias against purchasing our own food.  Much of our identity is tied to self-sufficiency. It is a grave insult among my people to suggest that one must trade, borrow, or beg food from another.”

“So your people will just die out rather than find a way to live?” Kassa asked.

He didn’t answer, instead just offering a shrug.

“Enough,” I said.  “We aren’t here to solve another country’s problems… just our own.”

“You won’t be able to stop what I’ve started,” Andru said.

“You might be wrong about that,” I replied.

Chapter 29

Two days later, I stood in the shadows of a doorway that opened out onto the market square.  The vendors I had seen before were all there, as were the barrow boys, musical buskers, goodwives, commercial buyers, city guards, street children, and the rest of the normal citizenry of Porye.  But I was watching a new booth, one placed almost in the center of the market, possibly the most desirable of all retail locations in the square.  It hadn’t been easy to get, either, requiring me to meet with the city’s mayor and requiring way too much excitement for a simple market booth.

Gibson Macklin had been mayor of Porye for almost as long as I’d been alive.  As a result, he had a pretty high confidence in the security of his position and hadn’t been all that interested in meeting with me at the drop of a hat.  His personal secretary kept me sitting in the waiting room for over an hour, which the oily little man spent either ignoring me or giving me the side-eye. That changed when I asked for paper, pen, and ink as well as the schedule for the royal raptor delivery to Haven. After writing out a note and sealing it in a secure delivery vial that bore the royal emblem, I had dropped it in the outgoing courier bin and left.

I made it down the second-floor hall of the municipal building and halfway down the stairs before the surprisingly fast little secretary caught up to me.  “Captain DelaCrotia!  The mayor will meet with you now,” he yelled as he came rushing down the stairs.

I’d stopped and frowned at him, then scratched my head absently.  “I’m just about out of time,” I said.

“Please, Captain. Mayor Macklin was unavoidably detained, but he certainly has time for the holder of the Kingdom Cross,” the unctuous little man replied, eyes darting around nervously.

“Alright, let’s go,” I had said, following him back up the stairs.

Mayor Macklin was a large man, half a