Silver Ravens by Jane Fletcher

Author:Jane Fletcher [Fletcher, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635556322
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2020-06-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

For a long time, they flew over wilderness, without any sign of habitation. From up high, the differences between a flat world and a round one were slight, yet unsettling, giving the bizarre sensation she was looking at a reflection in a fairground mirror, without anything actually being distorted. The mountains retreated, but did not drop over the horizon.

After four hours, the wilderness gave way to fields in a patchwork of crops and pastures speckled with grazing herds. Dirt roads linked isolated farmhouses. The sea drew close again, now dotted with small boats. Then, far ahead, trails of smoke rose above a dark smudge.

The smudge hardened into a sprawl of buildings as the Silver Ravens started their descent. They landed a short way outside town, on the largest of the roads leading in.

Widget dropped back beside Lori. He made a show of breathing in a deep lungful and then exhaling. “Doesn’t that smell bring it all back?”

“It might, if I’d ever been here before.”

“Your first visit to Mud Town. Ohhhh, you’re in for a treat, pet.”

“Mud Town? That can’t be the real name.”

“The locals have a pretty name for it, but who can be buggered with that, I ask you?”

BH was close enough to join in. “It depends on whether we want King Segann to help us.” She smiled at Lori. “He prefers calling his town Trethbuder.”

“He’s king here? I thought Queen Rianna ruled all Annwyn.”

“She does. King Segann is—”

Widget cut BH off. “He’s a jumped up little arsewipe, but he calls the shots around here, and we’re wanting his help. So yes…” He shrugged. “I guess it’s King Segann and Trethbuder while we’re here.”

“And his title is King of the Bukka,” BH finished.

“Who are the Bukka?”

“Boggarts with sticks up their arses.”

Lori was unsurprised to see the farm workers in the surrounding fields were all boggarts. In Caersiddi, the hard, dirty work was left to them, and she would scarcely expect fay to be tending sheep. But, on entering the town, she saw nothing but boggarts, including some who, if not wealthy, were clearly a few steps above the bottom rung of society.

The outskirts were a shanty town of wretched hovels, well deserving the name Mud Town. Farther on, the buildings became more substantial as they rode along streets of houses, two or three stories high, with half-timbered frontages and slate tile roofs. However the effect could never be described as charming or quaint, and the smell got worse.

The streets and alleyways were filled with boggarts, who flattened themselves against the walls to make way for the mounted humans. They acted in a manner showing neither curiosity nor hostility, but Lori did not feel welcome.

The buildings were crammed together, as if elbowing each other aside for room. They overhung the street, blocking out light. The state of repair was mixed, with some relying more on hope than mortar to remain standing. A few windows were glazed, but most had only wooden shutters. Deep ruts scored the unpaved roads.

Mud Town was a dump—or Trethbuder as Lori reminded herself.

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