An Early Bird

An Early Bird

Postby Niabh » Sun Jul 01, 2018 2:08 am

An arm caught the top of the cornice, then another, then she swung a leg over the stone lip and hoisted herself onto the roof. It took quite a bit of climbing to get to, but the roof itself was ideal: four stories up (enormous) and surrounded by a little brick barricade as high as her waist. It was still a little early for her, but if she was meeting Glenn again by noon, she wanted to be well-rested. Preferably more well-rested than he was.

From the roof of the pigeon croft, the raven muttered to himself and extracted his head from his wing as she approached. “How was the ball?”

“Oh, that.” Plopping on the tarred roof, she looked with grim anticipation at the grey, unappetizing, bespattered boards of the pigeon croft. Her sleeping mat was still in her satchel, which was still at Glenn’s house, dash it all. It was on the edge of her tongue to ask the raven to go fetch it, but it would be a heavy burden for him and he was a messenger, not a valet. She’d slept in worse places. Not many, though. Resigned, she began braiding up her hair for the night. “We never made it to the ball, actually.”

“You fucked ’im in the carriage, didn’t you?”

“What?” The partial braid unraveled as soon as she let go of it. Her mouth fell open in horror. “No! For pity’s sake, that was never the plan!”

“Did you kill him?”

“No—why are you even asking me this? Am I a spider? Are my sole options mating and killing? You’ll be asking next if I ate him.” She cut him a hard look of wholly queenly disapproval, which meant very little to the raven; he knew better by now. Eventually he shuffled foot to foot in a way that made him appear mollified. She started back on her braid. “We talked. A lot.”

“That much I might’ve guessed.” He fluffed himself against the mild chill, then dove from the roof of the croft to stand near her, moodily preening. A silvery splinter caught his eye, and he picked it up, nibbled along its length for a taste of salt, and flicked it away. “Did you at least give his name back?”

“That much got done, aye.” A bit of brown twine tied off the end of the braid. She looked down at the poor glum raven, smiled, and offered him her fingers as a peace gesture. He was grumpy and tired, not in the mood to play, but eventually he shuffled nearer, enfolded her forefinger in his beak, and tugged on it a few times.

“So when did you want to get out of this dump?” he asked her. “First thing in the morning? Want me to wake you?”

Fionn shook her head thoughtfully, folded her knees to her chest, and rested her cheek upon them. “No. I’ve promised to see him tomorrow noon. Like as not we’ll be one day more in the city. Is that well with you?”

“It’s fine with me. The city’s fine. They got good trash here.” He cocked his head upward. “Is it well with you? I thought you were gonner pound the shit outter that bloke at the gates this morning. Or puke on him.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, but with a sharp note of irritation that made the raven hop backwards uneasily. She looked at him, sighed, then offered an apology finger to tug again. He gave it a half-hearted yank, and she smiled at him and straightened up. “Any joy on your end?”

“Nothin’. If she’s got a kid, it ain’t with her and she’s not checkin’ in on it. Looks like she was tellin’ him the truth.” The raven settled down with a flutter and a sigh. “I don’t like spyin’. You know that. Reportin’ back’s different. I don’t like people not knowing I’m there.”

“I know you don’t. I would not have set the task to you were it not important.”

The raven curled up next to her, pressing itself in the warm spot under the bend of her knee. Still he shivered in the misty damp. “Mostly I just wonder why you’re so fixed on this one.”

She jerked straight, offended. “I’m not fixed. I just want this one most.”

“See, where I come from that’s what ‘fixed’ means.”

The woman laughed brightly, reached down, and rumpled the back of his neck. “We come from the same place, my raven. I know what it means. I mean that I want this one, and if I’m going through the trouble of having it, I mean to keep it. That means no Myrken. I’d need to get it back home somehow.”

“You’re goin’ home?”

“I don’t know when they want me home. A child can’t wait. They grow up so quickly here. I’d rather have it while it’s small. But I don’t know of any way to get it back without I go too. Meg would do it,” she mused. “I can see Meg crossing the sea and back for a baby. Particularly if I explained it to her. But Meg’s…” She trailed off, glancing back at the raven.

“Meg’s Meg,” the raven agreed. “She couldn’t cut it Here.”

Her head sank down to her knees again. “I can barely ‘cut it’ Here.”

“You’re doin’ fine, m’lady.”

“I don’t feel fine.” She hugged her legs tight to her chest. “I don’t feel fine at all.”
Anything can be magic if you're gullible enough.
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Niabh
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