Cry of the Nightbird by Tirzah Duncan

Author:Tirzah Duncan [Duncan, Tirzah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tirzah Duncan
Published: 2014-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

“I have to vanish for a while, that much is clear,” Joreth murmured as he slumped on his bed, exhausted. He held up his mirror as the predawn light began to edge its way through the shutters. He gingerly touched his cheek, his jaw. “This is too nasty and swollen for makeup to sort it out, and I really can’t afford to look so suddenly and so very pummeled the day after the Nightbird takes his beating. It will be far less likely to be put together if I vanish on some vague errand. I can leave Garren and Tossel jointly in charge; they dislike one another enough that it’s unlikely they would scheme together behind my back, and the irritation of dealing with the other would distract them from contemplating overmuch the power suddenly in their hands, but at the same time they’re both professional enough to get the work done.”

“A sensible choice,” yawned Wren, curled up in his chair. “But someone will need to go with you, yeah, to help you out? Just considering your injury and all. You’ll need a right arm until your own right arm is back in action.”

Not that you’ll volunteer or anything, Joreth thought, rolling his eyes. Still. “You have a point. An assistant would ease the difficulty of the journey.”

“And it would have to be an assistant you could trust with knowledge of your injury,” she said, voice so painfully hopeful that Joreth actually winced. Of all the little skills she’d picked up over the years, why couldn’t subtlety have been one of them? But no, she was a thirteen year old girl with a crush, the poor whippet; skill and subtlety in romantic pursuit didn’t usually show up until after that first physical firestorm burned off.

“Fine,” he sighed after a moment of waffling. “You can come.”

Her eyes widened, and she sat up as with a second wind. “Of a truth? I’d be honored, sir.”

Joreth did not miss the whispery snap of her fingers, a soft thank-you note to Lord Chance. His lips twitched. “No time to lose, then. Would you mind packing my things?” If she was going to fawn, he would see to it that she fawned usefully.

“Not at all, sir! What would you like me to get?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

He closed his eyes, turning the mirror over and again in his hands as he directed her through the packing of everything he thought necessary, excepting those things he deemed it best for her not to know the location of. He would slip those in when she went to fetch her own things.

He waved the mirror in direction as she shuffled through his wardrobe. “That—no, the other one, the brown one. Yes, that one. No, don’t pack it,” he decided. “I’ll wear that one out. It’s not my favorite, but it’s good enough for the road, and it has a good concealing hood. I’ll need that,” he sighed.

“Why not your favorite, though?” Wren asked, draping the good-enough cloak over the trunk.

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