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Authors: Chris Anne Wolfe
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traitor hidden among the trusted people, there was no way to successfully deploy any new tactic because it would be shared and countered immediately.
It left her with little she could do alone… for now. Gwyn shook her head at herself, a cheerless smile twisting her lips. “I do so hate intrigue and deception. Give me a rabid buntsow or a contaminated water well any day. Those are tangible puzzles that I can work through. But liars — the ambitious ones, not the sort who do it from shame or embarrassment, but the clever, self-serving deceivers — they’re my undoing. I lose patience with them.”
“Take care in your wishing, Coramee.”
Puzzled at the warning, Gwyn glanced at Jes.
“Unveiling a Court traitor is often easily done when outsiders arrive and view the obvious with new eyes. Motivating an enemy to join you at the negotiating tables, however, won’t be nearly so simple.”
“Aye…,” Gwyn dropped her gaze back to the fire, and the leaping flames of orange and yellow stirred memories of another flame licking out in destruction. Only once had she ever seen a Clan’s fire weapon at work, and the white-hot flicker of its tongue had torched the warehouse with a single kiss. Aye — Jes was right — a Court Traitor could be the least of their worries.
◊ ◊ ◊
Chapter Four
Gronday’s Market Square was a boisterous mayhem of tented stalls and jostling shoulders. The clatter of wooden crates, the clink of glass coins, and the colorful banners of the sellers all blended well with the scolding and laughing tones of the busy folk. Children raced through the crowds, shrieking the mysterious battle cries of their play. Vendors shouted the bargains of their wares. It was all very lively and all perfectly matched to Sparrowhawk’s taste. She’d been brought up in such bedlam until she’d left the Desert Folk to seek out the Council, and if she’d not passed muster as a Shadow Trainee, she probably would have settled quite happily into the tinker-trade’s life on her own. As it was, she had no doubts that the Mother’s Hand had matched her to Brit and in so doing, returned her to the merchant’s life.
Today the mood about her was more festive than usual. Not only was it monarc’s end and so nearly every local trade had freshly stocked its booths, but the first flatboats from Rotava had finally arrived with their riches. It meant that the rivers had thawed from Gronday to the sea, and with the Plateau Treaty between Changling and Human holding, it was clear that the northern goods and ports were ready to service the inland cities again.
A great piping of steam blew the clock whistle and Sparrow, with a fair number of others, stopped to look up. The Great Clock housed in the Traders’ Guild Tower rose above the south side of the Square. The high-pitched whistle keened again, and Sparrow felt the excitement of the visitors around her; the Clock Keeper’s little sundial and sexton had declared mid-day was arriving, and the Keeper had launched the steam-powered show. Sparrow felt her breath catch as the third piercing call to attention sang out; the only other time she’d been in Gronday the clockworks had been shut down for repairs.
The carved, lattice hands for monarc, day and tenmoon swung in complete circles, while on the largest of the clock faces the ivory point moved from its quarter-day pose to the half, and the pipe organ began. Wooden dolls popped up with the music as the steepled little roofs of each pipe turned into a cone hat blown loose. Children, prippers and baby birds danced up at the high notes. Burros brayed lower while horses whinnied tenor. Grumpy drunks and sour soldiers rose with the bass. And the whole crowd of them fluttered merrily in concert.
It was over all too quickly for Sparrow, and she promised herself to be back tomorrow, if at all possible. She rued that she had missed it the past two days here, but then the fact that it was mid-day reminded her of her
It left her with little she could do alone… for now. Gwyn shook her head at herself, a cheerless smile twisting her lips. “I do so hate intrigue and deception. Give me a rabid buntsow or a contaminated water well any day. Those are tangible puzzles that I can work through. But liars — the ambitious ones, not the sort who do it from shame or embarrassment, but the clever, self-serving deceivers — they’re my undoing. I lose patience with them.”
“Take care in your wishing, Coramee.”
Puzzled at the warning, Gwyn glanced at Jes.
“Unveiling a Court traitor is often easily done when outsiders arrive and view the obvious with new eyes. Motivating an enemy to join you at the negotiating tables, however, won’t be nearly so simple.”
“Aye…,” Gwyn dropped her gaze back to the fire, and the leaping flames of orange and yellow stirred memories of another flame licking out in destruction. Only once had she ever seen a Clan’s fire weapon at work, and the white-hot flicker of its tongue had torched the warehouse with a single kiss. Aye — Jes was right — a Court Traitor could be the least of their worries.
◊ ◊ ◊
Chapter Four
Gronday’s Market Square was a boisterous mayhem of tented stalls and jostling shoulders. The clatter of wooden crates, the clink of glass coins, and the colorful banners of the sellers all blended well with the scolding and laughing tones of the busy folk. Children raced through the crowds, shrieking the mysterious battle cries of their play. Vendors shouted the bargains of their wares. It was all very lively and all perfectly matched to Sparrowhawk’s taste. She’d been brought up in such bedlam until she’d left the Desert Folk to seek out the Council, and if she’d not passed muster as a Shadow Trainee, she probably would have settled quite happily into the tinker-trade’s life on her own. As it was, she had no doubts that the Mother’s Hand had matched her to Brit and in so doing, returned her to the merchant’s life.
Today the mood about her was more festive than usual. Not only was it monarc’s end and so nearly every local trade had freshly stocked its booths, but the first flatboats from Rotava had finally arrived with their riches. It meant that the rivers had thawed from Gronday to the sea, and with the Plateau Treaty between Changling and Human holding, it was clear that the northern goods and ports were ready to service the inland cities again.
A great piping of steam blew the clock whistle and Sparrow, with a fair number of others, stopped to look up. The Great Clock housed in the Traders’ Guild Tower rose above the south side of the Square. The high-pitched whistle keened again, and Sparrow felt the excitement of the visitors around her; the Clock Keeper’s little sundial and sexton had declared mid-day was arriving, and the Keeper had launched the steam-powered show. Sparrow felt her breath catch as the third piercing call to attention sang out; the only other time she’d been in Gronday the clockworks had been shut down for repairs.
The carved, lattice hands for monarc, day and tenmoon swung in complete circles, while on the largest of the clock faces the ivory point moved from its quarter-day pose to the half, and the pipe organ began. Wooden dolls popped up with the music as the steepled little roofs of each pipe turned into a cone hat blown loose. Children, prippers and baby birds danced up at the high notes. Burros brayed lower while horses whinnied tenor. Grumpy drunks and sour soldiers rose with the bass. And the whole crowd of them fluttered merrily in concert.
It was over all too quickly for Sparrow, and she promised herself to be back tomorrow, if at all possible. She rued that she had missed it the past two days here, but then the fact that it was mid-day reminded her of her
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