Aridatha Singh had just gotten back to sleep when fiery pain pierced the back of his right hand. He leapt up and flung his arm out. He thought his lamp had somehow spilled burning oil and feared his cot would be on fire. But the lamp was not burning.
Not fire. Something had bitten him, then. Or maybe clawed him. And he had thrown it across the room, where it was struggling feebly and making incoherent chicken noises. Those people were attacking him directly now? He shouted for the sentries.
Once light filled the room he discovered that his visitor was an albino crow. One of the men threw a blanket over the bird and wrapped it up. Another examined Aridatha’s hand. “That’s one ragged looking critter, General. You might want to see a physician. It might be diseased.”
“Send for soap and hot water . . . It doesn’t look like the skin is broken much . . . What is that?”
The blanket with the bird inside had begun talking.
“It’s talking,” the soldier said, so utterly amazed that he could do nothing but state the obvious.
“Seal the window. Close the door. Get yourselves ready to hit it with something when we turn it loose.” He recalled that one of the Company chieftains sometimes carried ravens on his shoulders. And one of those was white.
Escape was no longer an option for the bird. Aridatha directed, “Turn it loose now.”
The crow looked like someone had tried to drown it, then had decided to pluck it featherless instead. It was in terrible shape.
The bedraggled beast cocked its head right, left, surveying the chamber. It made an obvious effort to put aside its anger, to collect its pride and dignity.
Aridatha did not think this was the raven he had seen with that man Croaker. This one seemed smaller, yet more substantial.
The bird studied Singh first with one eye, then with the other. Then it eyed the sentries. It seemed to be awaiting something.
“You have something to say, say it,” Aridatha suggested.
“Send them out.”
“I don’t think so.” He motioned two soldiers into positions where they would be better able to swat the crow.
“I am not accustomed to . . . ”
“Nor am I in the habit of taking back chat from birds. I assume you bring a message. Deliver it. Or I’ll wring your neck and go on about my business.”
“I fear you will live to regret this, Aridatha Singh.”
In that moment, with the bird’s voice changing, Singh understood that he was in touch with the Protector. But her enemies had buried her beneath the glittering plain. Had they not? “I await your message. If it’s just a threat I’ll have Vasudha step on your head.”
“Very well. Until the day, Aridatha Singh. Aridatha Singh, you are now my viceroy in Taglios. Mogaba and Ghopal are no more. I will instruct you as to what steps to take . . . .”
“Excuse me. The Great General and General Singh have been killed?”
“They tried to do something foolish. For their trouble the enemy’s shadow creatures destroyed them. Which elevates you to . . . ”
Aridatha turned his back on the crow. “Jitendra. Get that word out. I want every company to disengage. The only exception is to be where the enemy won’t let them. And get the word across the lines that I’m prepared to discuss terms.”
The white crow flew into a cursing rage.
“Throw the blanket on that thing again, Vasudha. We may have some use for it later but I don’t want to listen to its nagging now.”
“You could get you a wife if you needed that, General.”