The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [50]
“Nothing so slow,” Daine said. Another man might have found it difficult to see the bird as a threat. But even beyond Thelanis, this wasn’t the first time Daine had encountered a talking animal—or even an intelligent bird; the war-wizards of the Valenar often used avian familiars as scouts. “I’m in no mood for games.” He raised his dagger.
“Wait!” The crow twisted its head back and forth. “I can help you. I can help the lady.”
Daine kept his dagger hanging over the bird. “I’m listening.”
“You’re looking for shelter, yes? You’re wise not to rest in the open. That one may have seen me, but many powers walk these woods. Thanks to you lot, I need healing myself. I don’t want to die out here, under your blade or in the jaws of the night. You take me with you, I can lead you to a safe haven.”
“What sort of haven?”
“An inn,” the bird said. “The Crooked Tree.”
“An inn?”
“That’s right,” the crow said. “You know, bit of brew, bit of bread, roof over your head? What, you thought that was a human idea?”
“I don’t think of crows as needing any of those things,” Daine said.
“Well, it’s not always about need, is it? You people don’t give beasts many options now. Besides which, we’ve got your kind here as well. Ferric, who runs the Moon’s Rest, he’s handy.”
“Handy?”
“Has hands, see where I’m going? Not like me. And he’ll find someone who can take care of me, sure enough. He likes to make a deal, Ferric does.”
Daine considered this. “And you claim this inn is safe?”
“I did no such thing,” the crow said. “Ferric, he likes to make a deal. But he has no love for the Woodsman, and I think you have that in common, yes?”
Daine tightened his grip on his dagger. “What do you know about that?”
“Your killer there had it right. I’m a watcher. I look and I listen, and information is what I trade in. The news of Darkheart’s return has spread across the night, and the Woodsman wants her back. But what’s that to me? I may make a deal now and again, but I’m not one of his creatures. You get me out of this, I’ll keep mum about what I’ve seen. And Ferric, he’ll be right pleased to spit in the Woodsman’s eye.”
“Xu’sasar. Opinions?” Daine kept his eyes on the crow as he spoke. For all that the creature appeared to be injured, Daine wasn’t taking anything for granted anymore.
“Kill the bird,” the dark elf said. “And find our own shelter. This is not one of the great spirits. It is a spy and a trickster, seeking to buy its life with words.”
“All I have except feathers,” the crow chimed in. “But come now, what have I ever done to you?”
“Nothing yet,” said Xu’sasar. “And if you die in this place, nothing ever.”
Daine stared down at the wounded bird. He had no reason to trust anything the creature said. They were in hostile territory, and the crow could easily be lying. But he’d never liked killing human prisoners, and somehow there was little difference here. And if the bird spoke the truth, perhaps this was an opportunity to make a few allies in this strange place. And he knew what Lei would say if she were awake.
The call of the Cyran dusksinger came through the woods—Pierce’s signal. The warforged had heard voices and was calling for instructions. Daine gave an answering call—safe to return.
Pierce emerged from the woods. “The path is well traveled,” he said. “Both hooves and boots have passed this way, and not long ago. Far in the distance, there is a strong, flickering light … a lantern, or a fire.”
“That would be the Tree,” the crow said. “Not much of a walk for the likes of you. Bring me along, then, and I’ll put in a good word. That’s the least you can do, isn’t it? The Moon only knows when I’ll be flying on this again.”
“Well,” Daine said, “we’ll take you with us. Pierce, you carry Lei. I’ll bring this one … and I warn you, little bird, that if we encounter any trouble between here and your inn, you’ll be the first to die.”
“Fair, that is,” said the crow. “And if it’s friends we are, it’s Huwen to you, right?”
“Let’s get to your inn before we settle our friendship,