Kestral Nightfeather's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

By midnight the soldiers were gone. Kestral wiped the bar and turned the secret over in her mind. The queen was dying, and she held the proof first. That alone could buy off the debt. But a thing worth coin to her was worth more to people with armies. If word spread that a mountain tavern keeper knew the court's business, those people would come. Some to buy. Some to bury the seller. Benji set down the neon cat-shaped hurdy-gurdy. "You've got the look of someone counting money she hasn't earned." "I'm counting the men who'd kill for what I know," she said. "Ha. Sell it fast, then." "Sell it wrong and I'm dead before dawn." She needed to know who already hunted. She needed someone close to the throne. She looked to the corner. A short soldier sat alone there, nursing one cup, watching the door. He had come in twenty minutes before the others and spoken to no one. A trident badge marked his vest. Kestral had marked him too. He drank like a man who expected trouble to walk in. She brought him a fresh cup he hadn't asked for. "Emberlin Kitt," she said. She had heard the name once, from a merchant who swore a barracks halfling was blood-kin to the queen. "You serve the crown." His hazel eyes lifted. "I serve." "The queen is dying. I know it true." She set the cup down. "I want to know who else is looking for folk who know it." Emberlin studied her. "You already told me you know. That was a mistake." Her chest tightened. "Was it." "Three men rode out of the capital yesterday. They're buying names. People who heard too much." He turned the cup once. "A tavern keeper who trades secrets is a name worth buying." "Then help me. I'll trade clean. You tell me who's safe to sell to." "Why would I." "Because you walked in first and sat where you could see the door. You're hiding too." She leaned closer. "A keeper who never lies is worth more to you alive than dead." He was quiet a long moment. Then he drank. "One of the three stops here tomorrow. Tall. Gray cloak. Pays in gold, not enz." He stood and buckled his sword. "Don't sell to him. He doesn't buy secrets. He ends them." "And the others?" "I'll send word when I trust you." He walked out. Kestral stood holding the rag. She had wanted a secret worth a king's trust. Now she had one, and a man in a gray cloak coming to silence her for holding it. She had bought herself a warning and a day. Tomorrow the hunter would walk through her door, and she would have to prove she was worth keeping alive.