“Yes,” she said, but before the word settled in the boy’s mind, Icefyre had reached out and closed his jaws on the lad’s torso. It happened as quickly as serpent strike.
Fresh meat. No sense letting him start to rot like the others.
The black dragon threw back his head, engulfed the rest of the boy’s body, swallowed, and moved away to the next pile of carcasses.
Day the 29th of the Still Moon
Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Reyall, Acting Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
To Kim, Keeper of the Birds, Cassarick
Greetings, Kim,
I have been given the task of conveying to you a complaint that has been received from several of our clients. They allege that confidential messages received show signs of tampering, even though the wax plugs of the message cylinders appear intact. In two cases, a sealing wax stamp was cracked on a highly confidential scroll, and in a third, the wax seal was found in pieces inside the message cylinder, and the message scroll appeared to have been spindled crookedly, as if someone had opened the cylinder, read the messages, and then replaced them, resealing the cylinders with bird keeper wax. These complaints come from three separate Traders and involve messages received from Trader Candral of Cassarick.
No official investigation has been requested yet. I have begged them to allow me to contact you and request that you speak with Trader Candral and ask for a demonstration of the sort of sealing wax and impression stamp that he is using for his messages. It is my hope and the hope of my masters here in Bingtown that this is merely a matter of inferior, old, or brittle sealing wax being used rather than a case of a keeper tampering with messages. Nevertheless, we would request that you scrutinize any journeymen or apprentice keepers who have come into your employ in the last year.
It is with great regret that we ask this and hope that you will not take it amiss. My master directs me to say that we have the greatest confidence in the integrity of the Cassarick bird keepers and look forward to putting this allegation to rest.
The favor of a swift response is requested.
Chapter One
THE DUKE AND THE CAPTIVE
“There has been no word, imperial one.” The messenger on his knees before the Duke fought to keep his voice steady.
The Duke, cushioned and propped on his throne, watched him, waiting for the moment he would break. The best a bearer of bad tidings could expect was a flogging. But delayed bad news merited death.
The man kept his eyes down, staring doggedly at the floor. So. This messenger had been flogged before. He knew he would survive it and he accepted it.
The Duke made a small gesture with his finger. Large movements took so much energy. But his chancellor had learned to watch for small motions and to respond quickly to them. He, in turn, made a more eloquent motion to the guard, and the messenger was removed. The boots of the guards thudded, and the lighter sandals of the messenger pattered between them as they hurried him off. No one ventured a word. The chancellor turned back to the Duke and bowed low, his forehead touching his knees. Slowly he knelt, and then was bold enough to look at the Duke’s sandals.
“I am grieved that you had to be subjected to such an unsatisfactory message.”
Silence held in the audience chamber. It was a large room with walls of rough stone that reminded all who entered that once it had been part of a fortress. The arched ceiling overhead had been painted a midnight blue with the stars of a midsummer night frozen forever there. Tall slits of windows looked out over a vista of sprawling city.
No point in this city was taller than the Duke’s hilltop citadel. Once the fortress had stood upon this peak, and within its walls a circle of black standing stones under the open sky had been a place of great magic. Tales told of how those stones had been toppled, their evil magic vanquished. Those same stones, the ancient runes on them obscured and defaced, now lay splayed out in a circle around his throne, flush to the gray flagged floor that had been laid around them. The black stones pointed to the five corners of the known world. It was said that beneath each stone there was a square pit into which the sorcerous enemies of ancient Chalced had been confined to die. The throne in the center reminded all that he sat where, of old, all had feared to tread.
The Duke moved his lips, and a page sprang to his feet and darted forward, a bowl of cool water in his hands. The boy knelt and offered it to the chancellor. The chancellor, in turn, advanced on his knees, to lift the bowl to the Duke’s lips.
He tipped his head and drank. When he lifted his face another attendant had appeared, offering the chancellor a soft cloth that he might dry the Duke’s face and chin.
