A Blight of Blackwings by Kevin Hearne

Author:Kevin Hearne
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2020-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

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The swell of boos and jeers that came from the crowd was not for Fintan but for the viceroy. How, I wondered, did Fintan become privy to that scene in the dungeon? He moved on before anyone could ask him.

“Meanwhile, not far away, Hanima and Adithi were about to meet some important allies….”

Hanima was better dressed this time. It was still simple clothing, but it was clean and everything looked to be her size.

Something has grown near the middle of the city amid news that Talala Fouz got burned down by a giant and that there’s a new king, who used to be a viceroy in Hashan Khek. That news is far away, but this tree is, like, kapoom! In my face. In everyone’s face. It’s a truly enormous thing that wasn’t there yesterday. One of the Fornish clans has sent a greensleeve and a bunch of their people to create a teahouse in a treehouse, and accelerating the growth of this tree was an astounding demonstration of the Fifth Kenning.

Adithi and I don’t care about the risk: We have to go check it out.

We raid the closet of the house we’re in, promising each other that we are only borrowing these clothes for a disguise. We even find boots that fit, and when we step out, hair all shining and combed, we look like we have money. We do have a few coins passed from Tamhan onto us through Khamen Chorous, so we can buy tea if we want.

That proves to be handy. There are some wee Fornish people in maroon waistcoats at the base of the tree who welcome paying customers to be the first to experience the Red Pheasant Teahouse, but they want to make sure people are intending to buy something before they ascend the tree. There’s a large throng of people gawking up at the huge thing, and I don’t blame them, but the line of people actually willing to pay is rather small.

Once we jingle our purses at the barkers, they grin at us and hand us off to another Fornish person in a waistcoat, who gives us a quick orientation. She has blond hair cropped super short—mine is considered short, but she’s one step up from scalp stubble. I wonder what it must be like to just wake up and have nothing to do to your hair. I often hear that people from other cultures envy us our long locks; that is a point of pride, no doubt, but I think sometimes, on very rare occasions, we secretly envy them for not having any to speak of.

“Hi. I’m Val Tan Vol. Is this your first time at one of our tea treehouses?”

We nod at her and this makes her happy, because she burbles, “You’re in for a treat! We have ten tea landings for the public that you can reach by following the steps made out of living branches. They’re completely safe and will hold your weight, but of course watch your step.

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