Mary Herbert: City of the Lost

No, she would not request a transfer. That was only the wishful thinking of a tired, out-of-sorts mind that had seen death in the point of a crossbow bolt only a short hour ago. Linsha laughed at herself. After all, the Measure promised that all who made the supreme sacrifice for the sake of their country would be rewarded in the afterlife. Maybe learning to put up with Sir Remmik would earn her at least a day of celestial feasting or something.

A sharp tap disturbed her thoughts, and she hurried to the window slit and opened the wooden shutter. A large owl, delicately patterned with creamy bars and spots, sidestepped through the narrow opening and walked carefully onto Linsha’s outstretched wrist. Agate black eyes stared down at the woman and a soft raspy voice said, “You could have opened the window. There is no perch out there.”

“I’m sorry, Varia,” Linsha said, her voice hushed. “I was distracted.”

A throaty chuckle vibrated in the owl’s throat. “Remmik again. I watched you follow him around like a disobedient squire.”

“It was his idea of punishment.”

Linsha lowered the bird to eye level and gently laid her face against the owl’s pale breast feathers. The warm smell of bird, pine trees, sun, and desert wind filled her nostrils—the familiar scents of an old friend.

“It is good to see you. You have been gone too long.”

Varia nibbled Linsha’s auburn curls and bobbed her head a time or two in her own greeting. Her dark eyes gazed unblinking into the woman’s green ones. Two tufts of feathers grew on either side of Varia’s round head like horns; they rose and fell according to her mood. Now they were flat in contentment as she settled comfortably into place.

Varia was similar to the elusive talking Darken Owls in that she could communicate with humans, and she was an excellent judge of character, but she was the size and coloration of a normal owl. Linsha had never learned if Varia was one of a kind or part of a species somehow related to those Darken Owls. Not that it truly mattered to her. Varia had found Linsha during a reconnaissance ride into the Khalkist Mountains nearly six years ago, and after a careful scrutiny, the owl had attached herself to a companion worthy of her friendship. Linsha had been surprised, then delighted, and they had been together ever since. Even during Linsha’s incarceration by the Solamnic council, Varia had found shelter in the hayloft of a nearby stable and patiently waited for her to be released.

“I do not have much to tell you,” Varia said in her whispering voice. Although the owl was a virtuoso of sounds from faint whispers to demonic screams, no one in the garrison knew she could talk. The other knights thought Linsha simply had a fondness for pet owls, an ignorance Varia preferred and Linsha found useful.

Linsha sat on the edge of her bed and lowered the owl onto her knee. She knew she should be hurrying, but Varia had been gone for three days on what she liked to call a spy flight, and Linsha was anxious to hear her news. She stroked a fingertip down the bird’s soft, spotted chest. “Tell me.”

“Everything looks normal. I flew a path around the city from the cliffs near Barddeath’s Creek, over the Scorpion Wadi, up past Sinking Wells, as far as the edge of the Silvanesti Forest, and south again to the big bluffs at Kirith Head. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. There are a few nomads out there. The drovers are moving their herds out into the summer pastures. Centaur patrols are everywhere. I saw a small hand of elves camped near the Shield keeping watch, and a small caravan from City of the Morning Dew is headed this way.”

“How does the country fare?”

“The best I have seen it. The grasslands are green and lush. The wells and oasises—”

“Oases,” said Linsha.

“What?”

“It’s oases, not oasises.”

“You humans.” Varia ruffled her feathers and gave a long blink. “Anyway, the oases are full. The herds of cattle and goats do well. I heard a farmer say this could he an excellent harvest for the olives, grapes, and corn.” She clicked her beak appreciatively. “Which means, of course, it will he a good season for mice.”

When Linsha did not respond, Varia tightened her talons lightly against the woman’s knee until her gaze focused once again.

“What exactly are you looking for?” asked the owl.

“Nothing,” Linsha admitted. “Something. I don’t know. Maybe I am just turning into a nervous old woman. For some days I’ve had this odd feeling that something is wrong. I feel as if someone is watching me. I see enemies in the marketplace. I hear rumors of disaster. I see shadows everywhere. Am I imagining things?” She didn’t want to ask, “Am I going crazy?”

Varia tilted her head in a thoughtful way. “This is a city out on a limb. Iyesta works very hard to keep Mirage safe, but any day another dragon could sweep over and chop that limb off. That is not fancy.”

“I know,” Linsha murmured. She thought of the centaurs and the tension on their faces, their longer patrols, and the array of weapons they carried. Perhaps their increased activity was nothing more than the orders of a new leader faying to prove his vigilance. Maybe the man in the marketplace had not been a spy but a mere brigand or sellsword checking out the territory. Maybe these feelings of gloom were nothing more than homesickness or loneliness or a growing irritability with the whole situation. After all, she was getting older whether she liked it or not, and she had spent the past ten years in one tense and dangerous situation after another. Someday she wanted to go back to Solace to see her family, eat a meal at the Inn, visit her grand-mother’s grave, and just rest for a while.

Linsha felt her thoughts begin to run in circles. She could “maybe” herself to death and still go nowhere. She either had to find some solid evidence to back up her imaginings or she should relax and let things be as they were.

Not tonight though. She had wasted enough time and angered Sir Remmik enough for one day. With care and some reluctance, she lifted the owl to a perch she had installed close to the open window. Varia fluffed her feathers once then settled down for a nap before her evening hunt.

“I am summoned to Iyesta’s lair tomorrow. Do you want to come?” Linsha asked as she moved toward the door. When Varia gave her a sleepy yes, Linsha added, “Meet me in the stable then, at sunrise.”

A tired hoot was the only reply.

Linsha spent the rest of the night in the Solamnic headquarters in the keep. The room was spacious enough for several desks, rows of shelves, and a large fireplace. It was comfortable enough even in the winter, well protected by stone walls, and centrally located so the officer of the watch could supervise the changing of the guards and be available for any emergency, late night advice, or minor disasters.

During the long, quiet hours before dawn Linsha read several reports left for her by three of her contacts.

As an erstwhile member of a clandestine circle, Linsha had learned how to make contacts, find snitches, and gather information not readily available to a circle of armed Knights. She knew the beggars who would watch the docks for a few coins, the fearless boys who would follow a suspect through the busy streets, the courtesan who sold her favors to the captain of the City Watch, the maid of the city’s busy mayor, the stable lads in the militia’s stables, and more importantly, those Legionnaires who were friendly to the Solamnic Knights. With charm, friendliness, a sincere interest, and a knack for finding just the right price, Linsha had set up a network of information gatherers in and around the Missing City that rivaled Iyesta’s in its efficiency.