The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition Read Online Free Page B

boundless optimism was one of the many
things he loved about her. “You have more faith in me than I do.”
Gerard started to kiss her.
    “I want to hear about the Police,” said
Thessalyn. “What’s got you so curious about Montpir and Maijha
Minor?”
    They curled up on the bed, and he told her
about the office and the stacks of paper. “Something wasn’t right
with that office,” said Gerard. “Every document I found was dated
at least three red months ago. Montpir only disappeared last month.
Judging by what I saw, he kept meticulous records. I even found
evidence of a filing system, but nothing was in order.”
    “You think someone searched the office?”
asked Thessalyn.
    “Yes,” said Gerard. “I think someone stole a
lot of paperwork. They hoped I’d confuse ransacked with messy. I
went through the fireplace, and I think a lot of paper was burned
there recently. I found a bit that had fallen under the grate, a
list.” Gerard took the charred fragment out of his pocket and read
it to her.
    Sky Town
    Misnomer?
    Tea cups—tea leaves?
    Who is Gwain? At the center of the web
    Cowry Catchers—the winged wolves
    Maijha Minor
    The diving spiders
    Thessalyn grinned. “Cryptic!” Gerard could tell
that her minstrel’s mind was already making poetry or prophesy of
it.
    “Yes,” he said, “but that list meant
something to Montpir, and I’m going to find out what.”

Chapter 5. A Traitor and A
Child
    Maijha Minor is home to all kinds of
creatures that have been eradicated from most other parts of
Wefrivain. The exact nature and habits of these creatures are kept
secret by the gamekeepers of the island in order to preserve the
mystery of the place. The diving spiders are one of the more feared
elements of Maijha Minor. They can grow a quarter the size of the
average griffin, and they make their homes in coral reefs. The
kings of Maijha Major claim that the spiders prevent the islands’
inhabitants from escaping by sea (small boats are easy prey in the
spider-infested reefs). Air traffic is forbidden and monitored from
the watchtowers around the island. The only safe and legal approach
is overland from Maijha Major during low tide. The journey requires
a skillful sand pilot with knowledge of the tidal flats.
Ironically, many of these sand pilots are fauns from Maijha Minor,
who receive a level of protection and trade goods for their
services.
    —Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns
    Gerard arrived at his office early the next
morning. A new guard stood at the dungeon entrance. At the desk in
the anteroom in front of his office, an older shelt, whom he took
to be a warden, was sleeping. Gerard pretended not to notice. “I
want you to bring the prisoners to me one by one,” he began in a
loud voice. The warden jerked awake and blinked up at him. Gerard
was still talking. “But first, send someone out to get hot
food—something that smells good, something a faun would eat.” He
looked down at his officer’s bewildered expression. “That means no
faun meat,” he said in case it wasn’t clear.
    “Prisoners?” repeated the warden. Gerard
could smell alcohol on his breath.
    “Yes! Prisoners! The ones who arrived
yesterday. Their cell is a bloody mess. I ought to know; I made it.
Get food, get prisoners. Can you handle that?”
    In spite of appearances to the contrary, the
officer had the good sense to nod and lurch to his feet. Gerard
strode past him into his office. I was here late last night.
They probably didn’t expect me this morning.
    He sat down to another stack of papers—this
one a catalogue of shelts the Police had interrogated six years
ago. These were the Police of Gerard’s memory—the ugly stories he’d
heard growing up. They don’t seem to have been as active in
recent years. Is it because they had more humane captains? Or have
the constant assassinations been slowing them down? He
suspected the latter.
    Some time later, one of the younger guards
came in with a tray of steaming meat