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Bird’s Eye View
I fed the raven perched on my wrist a scrap of meat before urging him gently into his cage. I had a soft spot for ravens. The pigeons that shared the rookery were simple birds, cooing dumbly at whoever would give them a few crumbs. Ravens might be messengers of mourning and ill omens, but they had an intelligence unmatched by their tame cousins. A slightly cruel intelligence, but an intelligence nonetheless. When I first started as the bird keeper’s apprentice, I had found them menacing, but as the weeks, months, then years passed by, that fear slowly turned to respect, and finally a vague affection. Oh, how long ago that had been. I’d been but a boy, young and untested by the world. Back then I’d hungered to know every bit of business that came in or out of the rookery. Back then I’d still been awed by the empty titles and ranks, the glamour of the faraway court. I had long since learned that the marriages, births and deaths of these distant “nobles” had little effect on what is, in all practicality, real life. Much more interesting is the ebb and flow of the people here and now, surrounding this small keep – farmers, blacksmiths, innkeeps; the salt of the earth, to borrow a phrase. From the window of the rookery I would watch the bustle in the market square below, seemingly silent as the wind blew away all but the occasional yell or crash. I turned back to the bird and away from my thoughts. My fingers, still nimble despite the years, worked loose the knot that held the message capsule to his leg. The seal that held it closed was that of a crown and an eagle. The lord would want this delivered personally. As I slowly descended the deep, curving stone stairway, I thought, not for the first time, that I ought to take an apprentice myself. I paused for a moment, letting my stiff muscles recover before making my way down the corridor to the great hall. When I arrived, the fire was roaring and the hall was filled with laughter and talk. The master of the castle was seated at the head table, dining on his luncheon. His wife and children sat with him, as well as his closest advisors. He glanced up at my approach. “My Lord, a message from King’s Point,” I said, watching his dark eyes. They frowned along with the rest of his face. “It came by black wings.” The frown deepened as he reached out a hand for the message, muttering a thanks. I turned and left, the air still full of chatter and the clink of utensils. I climbed back up the stairs, knees complaining all the way. I took the same raven out of his cage again and sat in my chair next to the window. Regaining my breath, I went back to watching the townspeople below. It wasn’t long before the bells began to toll. It had been a long time since I’d heard those. It wasn’t often a king died. Far below, the townspeople gathered round, buzzing with speculation, but only after they finished haggling over the price of their family’s dinner. As for me, the lord would be wanting to send out several birds soon. I stroked the raven’s dark head one last time before returning him to his cage and going to prepare several message capsules. “I really must get that apprentice soon,” I grumbled to myself.
Angel of Cheese · Sun Jan 21, 2007 @ 06:18am · 0 Comments |
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