Chapter 1

1

The Tower of the Eternal Queen soared high into the sky, an elegant spire of stone stabbing up amid the clouds. It was built of silvery gray granite, the blocks so meticulously shaped that the joins between them were nearly invisible. The lower levels were a solid bulwark of thick stone, a defense that had stood for centuries, but higher up gracefully arched windows and balconies with filigreed rails circled its sides. The uppermost level was nearly entirely open to the sky, having no walls, but only pillars topped with smoothly curving arches, which supported a roof that in turn supported the final needle spire.

The Eternal Queen herself often watched the city below from this lofty perch, and on rare occasions the citizens might see her take flight from it, passing over the land that she had ruled for countless generations on golden dragon’s wings.

Beneath that towering spire, though, the ordinary citizens of the Eternal Kingdom lived more prosaic lives. Nobles and wealthy merchants occupied grand houses that clustered close to the manicured park that covered the hilltop from which the tower rose. Further down the hill spilled the houses, apartments, and shops where most of the city’s inhabitants lived and worked, spreading out into the level lands beyond. Farms, orchards, fields of grazing sheep, and other such pastoral things stretched in a patchwork of varying green across the plain that surrounded the city’s solitary hill. On the edge of the city proper, though, shy of the farmland, were patches of squalor; the poorer quarters no city could ever entirely escape. On those streets people didn’t so much live as scrabble for life, in a constant struggle to find food and keep shelter and safety.

Which is why Kelwyn Grayson kept a hand on the dagger at his belt as he made his way among the midday crowd.

He was young, only sixteen years old, but looking even younger than that due to his short stature and thin, malnourished figure. Avians were always on the small side, of course. Their slender, short builds made them lighter, something that mattered a great deal to a race of winged fliers. The wings at Kelwyn’s back should have been creamy white, but were grungy and dirty, cared for only enough to be capable of flight and no more. The rest of him was in similar condition, his freckle-spotted face further smeared with dirt, his bright orange hair a tangled mess that fell untidily in an irregular cut just short of his shoulders, and his tunic and breeches both were worn, patched, and very much in need of a wash. His boots were near falling apart, and he would probably be barefoot soon, which was a problem, given that it was autumn, and winter’s snows weren’t far off.

His eyes, a clear blue-gray, flicked around alertly, looking for both danger and opportunity as he walked along the cobbled streets. Those too had seen better days; many of the stones were missing, and though the gutters were maintained here as they were everywhere in the city, they reeked all the same, for the throng of beings, both human and other, in this part of the city had things other than hygiene on their minds most of the time. In the richer quarters, servants might make certain the gutters in front of a given house were sparkling. Here even an innkeeper who employed servants would never waste valuable time and therefore valuable coin on such a task.

A tall man, well-dressed, with a long red hair, who was walking in front of Kelwyn, stepped in one such neglected mess and paused, cursing at the disaster that had befallen his very nice boots. This gave Kelwyn the opportunity to demonstrate the other reason he kept his hand on his dagger. He walked past briskly, just brushing against the tall man’s side, and in a swift motion drew the knife, cut his purse from his belt, and kept walking as if nothing had happened. The man would hopefully be so distracted by the ruination of his shoes that he wouldn’t even notice it had happened.

Kelwyn had barely tucked the delightfully heavy purse down the front of his tunic when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder of his wing and yanked him backwards. He found himself spun around, and the tall man grabbed his wrist tightly, squeezing so hard that he couldn’t keep from dropping his dagger to the filthy cobbles.

“I would like my purse back, please,” said the man, almost pleasantly.

Kelwyn blinked at him. “What?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you stealing it. You’ve rather ruined it in the process too, which is quite rude, but in any case, I would like it back.”

Kelwyn blinked at him. He’d been caught a few times, and it usually ended up with him being either beaten or dragged to the guard. He’d never had somebody just politely ask for their money back. “Uhm…What will you do if I give it back?”

Now it was the tall man’s turn to blink in confusion. “Surely you mean to ask what I’ll do if you don’t?”

“Beat my face in, I’m sure. You’re big enough. I’ll give it back. Just, are you going to turn me over to the guard too?”

The tall man’s eyes swept up and down the scrawny avian, and he shook his head. “No, I won’t turn you in. In fact, if you give me my money back, I believe I will go buy you lunch. You look like you could use it.”

Kelwyn blinked again, then suddenly smiled. He’d found a soft touch, it seemed. Too bad he didn’t do cons; the tall man would obviously be a good mark. “All right then. Here.” He dug down the front of his tunic with his free hand and handed over the leather pouch.