Falcon in the Glass Read Online Free Page B

Taddeo had left the glassworks, Renzo heard a flutteringup above. He whirled around. A slender figure stood behind him in the gloom. She stepped into the light of the furnace and pointed a blowpipe in his direction, wielding it like a spear.
    â€œBack with you,” she said. “Stay back!”

5.
The Dungeon
    T he little owl flew south over the marsh at the rim of the island and angled into the edge of the wind. One leg dragged on him a bit — the leg with the weight tied on. He tucked it up tighter and adjusted his wings. Soon the sounds of land faded away behind; he tilted in the air currents, drinking in the clear taste of sky. He followed the thin thread of kenning across the wide water — pumping, pumping his wings — until another island drew near, an island thick with glimmering lights and buzzing with the sounds of men. And now the kenning grew stronger, until it thrummed in his bones. The owl flitted between the encroaching cliffs of buildings; he swooped low over a ribbon of liquid moonlight. Then he slipped between iron bars and hurtled down into the dark.
    â—†Â Â Â Â Â Â â—†Â Â Â Â Â Â â—†
    The bird startled them, brushing by. Its feathers did not touch them, but they felt a stirring of air and glimpsed a quick gray blur in the moonlight before the bird shot between the window bars of the second-floor landingand disappeared down the dark stone passage to the cells below.
    The guard named Guido spoke first. “It isn’t a crime,” he said. “Birds may come and go as they please.”
    The guard named Claudio replied, “True.”
    â€œThey can’t be faulting us for birds,” Guido said. “We’re not the jailers of birds. And our job is to prevent escape. Those who wish to enter the dungeon of the Ten, welcome to it!”
    Claudio chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “Benvenuto! ”
    Voices drifted in, faintly, from outside. In a moment Guido heard the wake of a passing boat — the splash of waves, one after another, against the sides of the canal below.
    There was a problem, Guido knew, with his argument. True, they were not the jailers of birds. They were the jailers of men and of women. But if a bird were to go in and out, carrying messages for a prisoner, and if this were to be discovered . . . Well, excuses counted for nothing with the Ten. Less than nothing. Even reasonable excuses. Heads could roll.
    His own head, for example.
    Ordinarily it would not occur to Guido to be suspicious of a bird. Pigeons from time to time found their way into the dungeon. Once he had seen a wren, deep inside, pecking at crumbs on the floor. But this one tonight had seemed a purposeful bird. Not just fluttering in by chance but arrowing straight through the passage as if it knew exactly where it was going, like a dog sent to fetch a stick.
    The bird had seemed no larger than his own hand, butits head was wide. An owl, a tiny owl. And this was the third time Guido had seen it since the woman had arrived.
    The bird woman.
    Might she be a spy . . . or a witch?
    â€œI didn’t see a message capsule,” Guido said. “Did you?”
    â€œNo,” Claudio said.
    â€œShe couldn’t be sending messages,” said Guido. “Where would she hide the ink?” It was true that they hadn’t actually searched her person when she’d come in. The way she’d looked at them . . . No. They had not wanted to touch her. But they had thoroughly eyed her over. “We would’ve seen an ink pot if she had one,” he said. Though possibly not an ink stone — but Guido didn’t want to think about that.
    â€œJust so,” Claudio said. “We would have seen.”
    Guido sometimes wished that Claudio brought more to the discussion. Talking with Claudio was like having a conversation with a wall. He did not argue or contradict, and yet the exchange was somehow