Copper Ravens(8)

“Nothing, yet.” Max shoved past me and made his way toward the kitchen. Not having anything better to do, I followed, then watched in utter amazement as he ate four bowls of oatmeal in the space of a few minutes, drained two truly enormous mugs of coffee, and then asked for a plate of eggs. It was like he was fattening up for hibernation.

“Where’s Micah?” he asked as he shoveled eggs into his mouth.

“With the bigwigs.” I picked at some bread. “And Sadie’s trying to build a library with the silverkin, and Mom is doing the strong and silent thing again, which means that I’m bored out of my mind.”

Max took another swig of coffee and wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his shirt. Classy. “Want to come to the village with me?”

I eyed him dubiously, remembering his return the prior evening. “Depends. What’s going on there?”

He set down his tankard with a thud and scowled. “What’s Micah told you I do?” he countered.

“We’re all wondering what you do,” I snapped. “You come home in the dead of night, looking like you were dragged through the woods with these things chasing you…What are you doing?”

“I used to hang out at the market, but after the boggarts—”

“Wait.” I put my palms flat on the table and stared at my idiot brother. “Do you mean the Goblin Market?”

By the look on Max’s face, that was exactly what he meant. The Goblin Market was where the true evil congregated; the creatures that called the market home made the Iron Court look like a petting zoo. We’d been warned to stay away from the Goblin Market for as long as I could remember. Well, Dad had warned us. Mom had threatened us with eternal grounding.

“You are not,” I said. “If Mom finds out—”

“I haven’t been there since—”

“What good reason could you have for going there anyway?” I demanded.

“I was looking for Dad.” Max exhaled heavily, drank some more coffee, and worried at the edge of the table. “I figure if I go out in public, raise a little hell, word will get around. Eventually, it’ll get around to Dad.”

I stared at my big brother, shocked and amazed for reasons he would not like to hear about. Yeah, I suppose that Dad would eventually hear about these antics, and if the creatures Max was hanging around with didn’t kill him, Dad sure would once he found out. This was the stupidest, most irresponsible plan I’d ever heard, and I’d grown up with Max’s stupid plans.

And yet, that didn’t stop the guilt that stabbed at my heart. Here I’d been, mooning over having to get dressed up and attend court functions and worrying about the possibility of babies, and forgetting what we were all supposed to be doing—looking for Dad.

I’d just turned seven when my father got the call to war; I was eight and a half when the war, and the reports on him, abruptly ceased. To this day, we had no idea what had happened to him, not even if he was alive or dead. The Iron Queen had led me to believe that Dad was still alive; she’d insinuated that she’d known him, and said that she couldn’t imagine death taking him. Still, I didn’t think it was wise to put my faith in a known liar.

After Micah and I had freed Max from the Institute, he’d revealed that Dad had remained in contact with him for a few years after the wars ended, though the rest of the family had been unaware of this. To Mom, Sadie and me, Dad was just gone; I don’t know what hurt more, the fact that Dad hadn’t come by, or Max’s revelation that, two years after the wars ended, all contact abruptly stopped. I could only think of two things that would have kept Dad from us for that long, and if he’d been imprisoned, he’d have probably escaped by now. The other option, I just refused to consider.

But Max seemed to think our father was alive, and, being that he’d apparently once been headquartered in the Goblin Market, near enough to the Whispering Dell to hear about these drunken escapades. Mind you, getting in fights in the village square was not the proper way to locate a missing man. One should organize a search, complete with maps and compasses and things. However, I didn’t have any of those things, or the resources to put together a search party, or any desire to hear Sadie talk about the fricken’ Dewey Decimal System ever again.

“So,” Max said, “want to come with me?”

“When do we leave?” Really, what could go wrong?



Call me naïve, but I’d always assumed that the seedy underbelly, whether in the Otherworld or the Mundane realm, was only out at night. I mean, how could such ne’er-do-wells prosper in the full light of day? While the sun watched from above, respectable shopkeepers and artisans went about their business, making quality products and earning a fair wage for their honest work. Once the mats were rolled up and the stalls were shuttered, and the sun’s watchful eye was asleep, the bad guys emerged to cheat and pilfer what was left.