Later that night, when the rain finally ceased its soft rhythmic tapping on the cedar shingle roof, and the moon came pouring through the window, spilling silver over the floor, his door swung silently open.

Petronio was instantly awake, feeling for the blade under his bed.

“Shush!” came a soft voice. “You do not need to defend yourself against me!”

Petronio sat up. “My lady!”

“The Councillor hasn’t appreciated your true capabilities!” The voice kept quiet as Fenestra silently slipped toward the edge of the bed and sat down.

“Well …,” said Petronio, unsure how to continue.

“Well, nothing. I admit to you that he is a useful pawn, but no more.” The moon caught her eyes, daring him to defend his father.

Petronio was happy that at least one person in this miserable damp excuse of a city had the guts to stand up to Councillor Grasp. “I thought he’d be pleased, but all he could do was go on about the guards.”

“My dear boy. You have what he lacks. Initiative. For one so young, your cunning is surprising!”

“Thank you!” Petronio was glad she could not see his blushing face. She was wearing some kind of perfume. It filled his nostrils like a drug.

“Oh, don’t thank me. It was you who came up with the plan, then executed it. We do not have such giant birds in our country. These creatures are evolution’s concept of a killing machine. In a way, I admire them. Are you sure they will not let him go?”

The question was pointed. “The religionists think the ravens are death’s henchmen. Personally, I don’t believe in that superstitious claptrap. But throwing away a free meal isn’t in their nature.”

“Good. Our little friend has proven to be somewhat slippery.”

“Not this time,” Petronio assured her, closing the subject. “What happens now?”

“The future, of course!” She was playing with him.

Petronio knew it and the thought made him bitter. “Right. Thanks for letting me know,” he said with an edge in his voice.

Fenestra ignored the sarcasm. “And you have played your part well. Go to sleep now, my clever boy.”

Boy. That’s all he was to her. He wanted more. Much more. It was humiliating being left out. His father had recently met with Flint, but all the Commander did when he passed Petronio on the stairs was grunt an acknowledgment. He had changed from negotiator back to messenger boy in one blink of an eye. And now Fenestra was not letting him in on the details, despite her praise. He looked up and she was gone.

After that, sleep was impossible. There was only one thing that would relax him. Petronio quickly dressed and stole from the room. The whole house was in slumber now, the only sounds the creaking of wood in the wind as the house gently swayed. Fenestra had no doubt retreated to whatever hidey-hole she had made for herself.