The Flight of the Whisper King by Bradley P. Beaulieu

Author:Bradley P. Beaulieu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bradley P. Beaulieu

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“You saw a Maiden…” the Crone was saying.

“Yes,” replied Shohreh. “She’d gone to the palace to deliver the news.”

The two of them were in the map room. Shohreh stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back while the Crone paced before the hearth.

“It’s hardly a surprise,” the Crone said absently. “There have long been cracks forming in the sisterhood of the Maidens, Kings choosing daughters unfit to serve.”

The ranks of the Blade Maidens, as the Kestrels, were fed exclusively from the daughters of the Kings. The Crone had never said so, but she seemed to look down on the Maidens, feeling them inferior to the more extensive training of her Kestrels.

It was strange, though. Shohreh had spent nearly her entire life with the Crone. She’d long since learned the subtle clues that shed light on her moods. She looked angry and concerned about Shohreh’s news, but less so than the Kestrel would have guessed. Truth be told, Shohreh had expected her to fly into a rage, but she merely stared into the fire, contemplating.

Shohreh, meanwhile, was doing her best not to seem in as much pain as she actually was. As always after rebirths, the pain was bad, but this time it was coming in waves, and just then she was riding the crest. Her entire body felt like a rag left too long in the sun. Her joints were afire. And her muscles… Gods how they ached. They were tight as ratlines, refusing to stretch unless she worked them every waking hour, which only intensified the pain. She wanted go to her bed and curl into a ball until this latest spell passed. She couldn’t, though. Let on too much and the Crone would begin to question everything. After all, if she was in so much pain from her rebirth, how had she managed to reach the garden? Was her debilitation what had allowed her to be observed by the Blade Maiden? And how, if her infirmity was so pronounced, had she managed to escape?

The eldest of the Crone’s acolytes, Sülten, entered the room. After sending an uncharitable glance in Shohreh’s direction, she placed herself so that the Crone’s body blocked Shohreh’s view of her. Sülten knew very well that Shohreh was deaf and was ensuring her lips couldn’t be seen, effectively blocking Shohreh from the conversation.

The two of them spoke for some time. As often happened when the Crone was deep in thought, shadows seemed to flicker about her head, a strange effect that the Crone had never once spoken about, despite Shohreh having asked her about it many times. “Never you mind, child,” she would always say. “Never you mind.”

Occasionally Sülten would glance at Shohreh over the Crone’s shoulder, an act that made Shohreh extremely uncomfortable. She was certain that whatever Sülten had come about had to do with her mission.

Eventually, having interrogated Sülten to her satisfaction, the Crone sent her away, then rounded on Shohreh. “The girl… You told me you’d killed her.”

“I told you I’d dealt with her.

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