Blackbringer by Laini Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

greedy, sucking hunger, and she did, but not right away. First she dreamed of a tapestry, once glorious but now moth-eaten and faded. She’d dreamed of it before and never remembered with waking, but in her dream she somehow knew that, threadbare though it was, it was the only thing holding the darkness at bay, the best and only thing.
     
    Outside, Calypso perched atop a caravan, keeping the watch after the other crows had shuffled off to bed. He puffed smoke rings and turned slowly, surveying the array of shining eyes that peered out at him from the encircling woods. Imps, nightjars, weasels, dryads, toads, all staring in awed silence at the spectacle of the caravans. Calypso noticed a raven who lingered longer than most, and after glancing over his shoulders furtively, he glided down to where the larger bird stood withdrawn in shadows.
    “That Algorab?” Calypso croaked in a hoarse whisper.
    “Aye, blackbird. Heard ye lot were moving north and had to see for myself. Reckoned it might mean something.”
    “Well, it don’t. Least, not what ye’d like to think. There’s years yet till . . . that.”
    The raven grunted and scratched his head with his foot. “Are ye for Dreamdark or neh?”
    Calypso nodded. “We are. Can ye carry a message ahead of us?” he asked.
    “I’d be blessed to bring the news.”
    “It en’t news! She comes to Dreamdark on her own business. It’s nothing to do with nothing, got it?”
    “Oh, aye? And what is it to do with?”
    “Ye wouldn’t believe me if I told ye.”
    “Sure I would. En’t I believed since I was hatched?”
    “En’t we all? We’ll see ye there, Algorab. Meantime, don’t get worked up, eh? It en’t time.”
    “All right, all right. Sure, feather.”
    “Blessings fly with you.”
    “And with you.” The raven spread his wings and rose into the sky.

SIX
    Magpie woke at dusk to a sound of creeping inside her caravan. Instantly she came awake and lay rigid, listening, but within a few seconds she relaxed. It was only Bertram. He was moving as quietly as he could—which wasn’t very. He’d been something less than stealthy ever since he lost a foot to a croucher devil’s second mouth six years back. Magpie heard the faint thunk of the ebony peg leg she’d carved for him as he snuck amid the mess of costume trunks.
    He rustled around a bit and then left, and once the door closed Magpie slipped out of bed. He’d been at her trunk, she saw, and had left it open. On top of her wadded clothes was something new. She lifted it out. It was a skirt of black feathers strung together on a sapphire belt that had likely once been a human’s bracelet.
    She pulled it on over her breeches and turned slowly in front of the mirror, feeling a lump form in her throat. Bertram had made it, she knew, and out of the crows’ own feathers. As she stroked it fondly she counted one from each bird.
    In losing his foot, Bertram had also lost his edge at thieving and had since had to let the other crows handle all necessary thief work. But to make himself useful he’d taken up sewing with his good foot, stitching the crow-stolen kerchiefs and bits of parasol lace together into costumes and curtains for their theater. Farsighted as he was, he had a time threading needles, though, so Magpie sneaked into his workbox whenever he was away and did it for him. She always denied it. “Must be pixies,” she’d say, and lately she’d noticed him sneaking up on his box like he might catch the tiny creatures in the act!
    Out the door she went to where the birds were gathering groggily around the ashes of the morning’s fire, still in their dressing gowns. “Bertram!” she cried, hitting him with a flying hug. “I love it!”
    “How fine ye look, lass,” he said, pushing his specs up his beak and looking her over. “Fine indeed!”
    “Aye,” added Pigeon. “En’t ye lovely! Bit o’ the crow in ye, sure.”
    “That one’s mine,” said Pup proudly, pointing at a feather. “Neh,