Читать книгу Messenger in the Mist - Aubrie Dionne - Страница 7

Father’s Shadow

The rest of the day whizzed by in a blur of letters, a surge of pleased recipients and a slew of strategically planned destinations. Star made up time by scavenging cheap merchant food stands in between stops and hastily stuffing her mouth as she rode to the next delivery. Thank goodness she’d placed each letter in order the previous night, thus was able to accomplish more than one delivery at a single stop. She caught up with her deliveries when the moon reigned in the sky and the lanterns blazed like giant fireflies, one by one.

As she approached the Overflow Tavern, Star reached down to skim the bottom of her carrier’s bag. She had a nagging doubt she’d overlooked a letter in the rush. Her fingers brushed wads of crumpled receipts and the crust of the bread she’d nibbled for lunch. Digging deeper, Star felt a fold in the leather where her arm had clutched the bag too tight, crinkling the corner. The weight of the letters had wedged a small piece of paper underneath the crease.

When Star brought it out into the light, her stomach pitched. Not only was it another letter, but it was the exact one Zetta had so carefully entrusted to her safekeeping. She’d been catching up all day and the outskirts were not part of her ordinary circuit. In all the commotion, she’d overlooked the most important correspondence of her job.

If she waited until morning, Star would have to delay her ride home by another day. Zetta would fume when she returned, her cheeks red as the Devil and her mouth full of questions. Star would be forced to explain the matter of the bunnyfly and why the most important letter arrived late.

She bit her lower lip. She could already hear Zetta’s shriek of a voice: You risked your life and the letters? For a bunnyfly? And then, at an even higher pitch: You delivered the bunnyfly before the letters? You delivered the most important letter last?

No, it would be better if she could finish the task before sunrise. Feeling foolish and irresponsible, Star pulled on the reins and Windracer swiftly turned around, fast as the dovetail of an arrow. Star smiled at her horse’s resilience to fatigue. At least this delivery would not take long.

The outskirts were an extension of the mountain behind the city, where a plate of granite hovered over a crevice between the earth and the mountain itself. It was known for sudden cave-ins and never saw the light of day. The dirt-paved streets harbored petty thieves and frantic citizens too poor to afford a residence in the inner districts. The growing population had pushed several housing communities beyond their limits, forcing many toward desperation, scrounging for food and shelter.

Star could only wonder how someone from such meager means could afford a personal message, and why he wouldn’t spend the money on a way to better his makeshift accommodations.

Perhaps this message did just that.

When Star reached the outskirts, the sky was a sheet of black, and the cave was even darker still. Here, no lanterns lit the throughways. People carried their own lights, as if each of them held a piece of the sun over their shoulder to remind themselves darkness was not everlasting.

Tonight the streets were empty of golden orbs. The inhabitants had retreated long ago to their shacks thrown together with stray wood and decorated by tattered curtains. The streets were shadowy and Star did not have a lantern. Reaching in her coat pocket, she brought out a crumpled box of matches. After striking one between her fingers, she crossed the threshold and the canopy of rock hovered over her like a storm cloud.

The dwelling she sought was part of a shantytown of pillaged wood houses huddled against the backdrop of the far side appropriately titled Rugged Ridge. The number of the address was 11678.

Star peered through the darkness. A scuttling sound came from deep within an alleyway. It could be as innocent as a tomcat or as malicious as a starving vagabond. Her match fizzled out. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she urged Windracer on in the darkness. Her horse’s ability to see ahead did not concern Star. Windracer had excellent night vision and Star had trained her with frequent night walks in the misty, dimly lit streets of Evenspark.

To her dismay, the sound tracked Star through the grimy streets. Every few steps Windracer took, the scurrying followed like a delayed echo. Star looked back, but bundled trash clogged the alley.

Star cursed under her breath then dismounted Windracer, silent as a windless day. Bending down, she unsheathed a dagger lodged in the top of her boot. Every messenger had their own defenses.

A forced silence prevailed, broken only by the skittering of rats in the corner of the back alley. Holding the dagger in front of her, Star tiptoed around Windracer. As she entered the passageway, the darkness engulfed her in a stifling, black embrace.

The attack came swiftly, the thief bolting from the shadows. He knocked her to the ground, but she recovered, hoisting herself up on her elbows. Wrestling her attacker, she managed to squirm from underneath him and kicked the scraggly man in the stomach. In two seconds, she had him pinned down with her dagger hovering above his throat. “How dare you attack a messenger.”

Star could barely make out the shape of a young man’s face underneath his wiry brown hair. The dim light from an upper window shone further down the way and she dragged him underneath it to identify him. He looked impoverished, skinny as a lamppost, with pock-marked skin and watery eyes. The recent scar boiling above the bridge of his nose looked infected. As much as he repulsed her and set back her delivery, a rush of sympathy swelled in her heart for the vagrant.

“Messenger, heh? Well, I’ve got a message for you.” The man wiggled and she pressed the dagger closer until the cool metal of the blade touched his skin. He stopped moving, but his eyes were still wild. “Deliver all the messages you want on that high horse of yours, collect everyone’s money ’til you’re richer than the king himself, but none of it will save you when they come.” The man smirked, displaying a mouth full of broken, yellow teeth.

Star paused. The man must be delirious, but she had to ask. “Who? Who is coming?”

The man laughed, first quietly to himself before erupting into a full belly rumble, his ragged voice echoing out into the night.

Star let him go, disgusted. The street urchin slunk into the darkness without further quarreling, but his comment left a mark on her composure, a stain of doubt that her life was not as perfect as she imagined it to be.

She was grateful to see Windracer’s familiar silhouette against the backdrop of the alley. As trained, the mare remained stationed where she left her. “Come on, girl, we have a letter to deliver.”

Star remounted and continued her search. The farther she went into the outskirts, the dimmer the streets became. Not only were they severely deprived of light, but grunge and debris blocked whatever warm glow trickled from the crude windows of the inner dwellings. Star struck another match, taking note of how many she had left. This time she didn’t care whom she summoned from the bowels of the underworld. Her sole purpose was to get the letter delivered in order to return home.

Number 11678 rested in the corner, behind a heap of fallen rubble. Star dismounted and struck yet another flame, throwing the previous matchstick on the littered ground below. She picked a haphazard path through the ruins, careful not to tread on a shard of broken glass or upturned scrap metal. After a swift knock, she waited at the sloped entrance.

The door opened and a young man emerged, his face illuminated by the flickering of the matchstick. He wore only a pair of black leather pants, his upper body naked, exposing sinuous muscles covered in painted tattoos. A herd of racing horses ran down his arm in blue-black ink. Star had to keep her head up and remind herself not to stare at the elaborate decorations or the curves of his chest.

His chin jutted out from a strong-boned face that commanded respect. He looked like a lion waiting to pounce. He smiled at Star like he wondered whether to eat her. “Yes?”

Star did not flinch. She thought she could outwit him, if need be. “I have a message for a Fallon Leer.”

The man leaned against the opened door. “That’s me.”

Star held her head high. With one eyebrow arched, she leveled her eyes with his own penetrating gaze. “I need to see identification.”

With a furtive glance at Star, the man reached in his pocket and brought out a woven chain. Suspended on the necklace hung a metal tag glittering in the glowing embers of Star’s matchstick. Sure enough, the tag read Fallon Leer. Star recognized the gold inscription immediately. He was a former member of Ravencliff’s elite Royal Guard. Either he’d quit or they’d thrown him out.

Star didn’t have the time to consider his deposition further. She dutifully brought out the letter. “It is my job to warn you there is no return address. Open it with discretion.”

Fallon Leer laughed lightly, his voice smooth as aged wine. “I know who it’s from, thank you.”

Star turned around, but the man grabbed her hand with his own callused fingertips, his skin rough and hot to her touch. For a moment she thought she would have to test her combat skills once again, but he released her. “Wait.” He disappeared inside the darkness of his shambled quarters before emerging with another letter. “This goes directly to Zetta.”

Star froze at the mention of her superior’s name. Why would a scoundrel like him know Zetta? But under the terms of her messenger code, her lips remained sealed like the secret letter he held in his hands.

“And the payment?”

“To be paid by the recipient.”

She considered his request, weighing the unlikely possibility Zetta would pay for any letter from him. But it wasn’t in her authority to inquire. If Zetta refused to pay for it, the letter would be shredded and discarded. She could not bend the rule of the Interkingdom Carriers. Taking it from his hands, Star slipped the letter into her carrier bag and turned away.

He called after her, a comical lilt to his tone. “It’s a little late for a messenger to be gallivanting around, isn’t it?”

Star turned back, her hair whipping around her face in a shining veil. “I can take care of myself.” His eyes flared as if he found her bold retort appealing. Feeling a little awkward, she mounted Windracer and rode away.

* * * *

When Star returned to the Overflow Tavern, most of the booths were empty. Hilda had stacked mugs in toppling array on the bar and wiped the tabletops with a rag and soapy water. Dinner had ended long ago.

“Long day?” Hilda asked as Star plopped herself down into a booth by the windowsill. She was grateful to have a warmly lit place to return to, but somehow the glow of firelight couldn’t quite shake the haunting images of the night’s rambles out of her head. At least her bag was empty.

“You could say that, yes.”

Hilda grinned wide. “Let me get you our special tonight. It will make it all worth it. I hope you got a substantial reward for returning that bunnyfly.”

The barmaid’s comment reminded Star of Valen’s gift. Digging in her coat, she brought the gilded box into the lantern light, and it sparkled as though a chip of the rising sun had fallen into her hands. Star immediately held it down, afraid to draw attention, as two men sauntered in from the night and sat in the booth behind her. One was older, almost her father’s age, and the other was not much older than herself.

As she smoothed her fingertips over the lid, she overheard their conversation waft up from the wooden stalls.

“More and more these days, there’s talk of war.”

“It’s a good thing that mist is holding back Evenspark’s army,” the younger man grumbled. “The Queen of Evenspark’s been raving mad ever since our king took that silly nobody as his bride.”

“Ha. He passed her up many years ago for a barmaid, a young girl, nonetheless.”

“She’s a nobody.”

“But she’s beautiful, and from what I hear, Evenspark’s queen isn’t exactly a swan, you know.”

“What have you heard?”

The older man’s voice fell to a whisper. “I heard she’s got some hideous disease, skin all puckered up with pus and blood.”

Star shook her head in disgust of the gossip. The rumors of Evenspark’s disfigured queen had spun out of control ever since her birth. The queen was a reclusive sort, sequestering herself in the castle and only showing her veiled face at royal ceremonies. But it was no reason for Ravencliff’s ruffians to create pernicious lies.

She’d had enough of their ridiculous talk and took a quick breath of air, ready to intrude when the younger man responded in exasperation. “Naw. That’s only a story meant to scare tots into eating their vegetables. No one’s actually seen her face. She’s always wearing some veil or another.”

“What with the Elyndra, you’d think they have enough scary stories for the little ’uns. No, I think there’s some truth in it. Why else would she hide her face?”

Star braced herself for a fight, but the younger man brushed it off. “Suit yourself, it’s a moot point anyway. He married the girl nobody and now they have Bellanina.”

“Yes, but the king doesn’t need another heir. Prince Valen is quite enough to keep the kingdom going.”

“And dual heirs always stir up trouble.”

Star hunched down. The conversation grew increasingly intriguing. If they caught her eavesdropping, their tongues would not wag any further.

“Let us hope Valen can smooth over any quarrels.”

“Yeah, there’s Princess Vespa, the queen’s niece over in Evenspark. There are rumors Valen’s betrothed to her already.”

The word betrothed assaulted her ears and Star’s heart felt like it tore into two halves. The door to her hopes slammed with a rude thud. She couldn’t help but keep listening, like one captivated by a hunter’s arrow as it rode the wind to strike a deer.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t mess it up like his father.”

“Yeah, choose some beautiful girl nobody and make everyone angry.”

Star looked at the gilded box guiltily. She couldn’t possibly be the one to steal Valen’s heart. Slowly, her fingernails pried open the latch and she raised the lid.

Inside laid a jeweled necklace with a ruby, bigger than her eye, chipped into the unmistakable shape of a heart.