51.

  I'd like to say I didn't scream, and I didn't, it was more of a strangled shriek. I spun and raised the fist on my good arm, the other clutched to my chest. As I stood there I realised I was naked from the waist up. Where was my gear? I blinked in the darkness, trying to clear my eyes of sleep, and there was the Pigeon King, larger than even the last time I'd seen him. His beak had grown curved and wicked. He no longer had feet, he had talons. Even the feathers on his wings looked sharp and lethal, and he had a fine plume growing from the top of his head. His feathers had darkened, and the crest on his belly stood starkly white amongst them. His golden eyes looked at me appraisingly.

  "My feckless, featherless follower, how quickly you proved yourself to be treacherous," he clacked his beak at me and stalked around the room, his talons scratching on the stone floor. The room was dark, lit by a single brazier, the flames flickered and threw shadows everywhere.

  "You entered a pact with me, mageling, and you have betrayed your oath.”

  I scowled at the Pigeon King, regaining some of my composure.

  "What the hell am I doing here?" I said. “Did you kidnap me?”

  "I suppose," the Pigeon King said offhandedly. "It wasn't very difficult. Honestly mageling, you are a ripe fruit for the picking when you are asleep.”

  My scowl deepened.

  "I told your messenger I didn't want anything to do with you," I snapped.

  "I'm afraid that's not a decision you're able to make, mageling," the Pigeon King replied, his tone casual and conversational, as if he were talking to a silly child who didn't want to eat his vegetables. "You entered into an agreement with me, and in our world, agreements are not so simply brushed off. You have a blood debt to me, boy, one that you are obligated to fulfil upon pain of death.”

  "I saw what you did," I replied. "I saw what was going on in that church, and whatever it was, it was evil. You sacrificed the Tank Beetle!”

  The Pigeon King gave a short, sharp bark of laughter.

  "My boy, what you saw was power. The Craft is not something soft and sweet. Power is not something that is palatable to the weak-hearted.” He clacked his beak at me and stared ferociously with those golden eyes. "You completed your task well, mageling, and you were justly rewarded. My plans and machinations should be of no concern to you.”

  "It felt wrong," I said to him.

  "Power usually does to the weak, but such moral binaries as good and evil have no place in our world. We are beyond that, beyond justifications, beyond recriminations. Besides, yours is not to question; yours is simply to do. Since I am a benevolent master, I have chosen to forgive you for your first lapse, given your immaturity and lack of experience. I've chosen to give you another chance to redeem yourself.”

  "No thanks," I said.

  The Pigeon King shot me a cold look. He glowered and stretched his wings.

  "Do not try my patience, boy, for you are here by my will, and you live by my consent. That can change very quickly if you are no longer useful to me.”

  I held the Pigeon King's gaze and felt my heart quicken. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I had no idea where I was. I had no way of knowing how to escape, either.

  "But come, there's no reason why you and I need to threaten and quarrel with one another. After all, we're on the same side, are we not?" he said.

  "Are we?" I replied.

  "Yes, we're both on my side." The Pigeon King flapped a wing at me dismissively. "Besides, that Tank Beetle would have murdered you and eaten your corpse down there in the darkness in a heartbeat. What is it to you if I used its organs for a practical purpose? After all, do you not drape yourself in the thing's shell night after night? Has my assistance not literally saved your life on several occasions now? I mean, little mageling, you don't think I haven't been keeping an eye on what you've been up to, do you?”

  I felt my cheeks burn. Of course he was right. Not only had he literally saved me from death's door, but the carapace had also saved my life multiple times, including protecting me from getting gutshot. Without it, I'd have bled out on the streets several times over by now.

  "Well, if you've been watching me, then you know I'm busy," I said to him. "I don’t have time to go off on one of your wild side quests.”

  "Mortals," the Pigeon King said. "So obsessed with time. Let me guess, this has to do with your personal vendetta against those outlaws that terrorise your Estate, the ones you've so vigorously battered and beaten night after night?”

  "Yes," I said monosyllabically.

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  "And why the sudden rush?" the Pigeon King asked. "They'll still be there tomorrow.”

  I hesitated before answering. I didn't know how much the Pigeon King knew or how much he should be told, but then at the same time, I didn't think he particularly cared about mortal drug dealing.

  "There's a shipment coming in," I said. "It's coming in the next 48 hours, and if I can find it and destroy it, I can cripple the Syndicate.”

  "I see.” "The Pigeon King sounding disinterested. "And how goes the search?"

  The way he asked made me feel like he knew exactly how it was going, and I wondered just how closely he had kept me under surveillance. I knew I'd been watched, but the thing about pigeons in London is they're so ubiquitous you'd have a better chance of trying to acknowledge every brick in every building than every pigeon.

  "I've just started," I shot back at him.

  "And you have 48 hours?" the Pigeon King asked. "To find one building in all of this fine grand city? I don't rate your chances, little mageling. Not without assistance.”

  "I have assistance," I said to him.

  "Oh, the indigent man who one of my pigeons saw urinating on his own leg?" the Pigeon King said mockingly.

  "And others," I replied lamely.

  "If only you had access to an avian army," the Pigeon King said. "Who could flit and fly about the city completely unnoticed, who number in the hundreds of thousands, and whose king you could do a favour for." I swear to you, the Pigeon King actually stroked his nonexistent chin with his wing thoughtfully.

  I clenched my jaw. He had what I needed and he knew it. With an army of pigeons, I'd have a much better chance of finding the stash house than if I just had Sherbert and his homeless network wandering around the city looking for something suspicious. The Pigeon King had real power, he would have some way of narrowing down the search that the homeless didn't, and I certainly didn't. I didn’t have time to put my morals first. I needed to find that stash house. The Pigeon King looked at me probingly, and I huffed.

  "Fine, okay. Find me the stash house, and once I've dealt with the Syndicate, I'll do whatever it is you want," I said.

  "Unacceptable," the Pigeon King replied. "What I need done needs to be done now, and once you have done it, I will set my followers to finding this stash house of yours."

  "I don't have time," I replied. "The shipment's coming in less than 48 hours!"

  "My task will take no time at all, little mageling, that I promise you," he said. "In fact, you don't even have to leave this room.”

  "What?" I replied.

  “First, you must acquiesce to my request before I divulge any information to you.”

  I don't know what it is about the Pigeon King; perhaps it was his arrogant attitude or the fact that he called himself king and acted like one, but I always felt like giving him sarcastic responses.

  "Well, it's not like I have any choice, is it, Your Highness?" I said.

  "In a perfect world, everyone would just do whatever I tell them the first time," the Pigeon King sighed. "But of course, you do have a choice, little mageling. You can break your oath and face the consequences." He eyed me, letting that threat hang in the air. "Or you can be a faithful, featherless follower and acquiesce to your King's requests.”

  I eyed him, and a strong part of me wanted to call his bluff, but sitting here almost completely naked and without any of my gear, I wasn't sure I could take the monstrous pigeon in front of me before he ripped my throat open with those talons.

  "Fine," I grunted. "But you have to promise me that you'll let me go as soon as night falls, and you'll help me find those stash houses within the next 24 hours.”

  "You have my word, mageling," the Pigeon King replied. "And my word is worth far more than yours is.”

  "So, what's the job?" I asked, ignoring that final barb.

  The Pigeon King flapped his wings mightily once and landed on the bed next to me, which I realized was little more than a stone tablet with rags thrown across it.

  “You'll be glad to know, this is a task that requires your mind, not your body… or what's left of your body.” The Pigeon King said, eyeing my naked torso.

  I followed his eyes and felt revolted, staring at my own battered and beaten carcass. My body was a lattice of bruises, hematomas, contusions, and cuts, some of which still bled.

  "Tell me, mageling, are you trying to destroy this mortal body of yours before it reaches anywhere near maturity?"

  I grunted and crossed my arms across my narrow chest, still favouring my wounded shoulder.

  "I can take care of myself," I replied.

  The Pigeon King fluttered near my side, and I flinched away from him. He bent down and peered at the bloody trench in my shoulder, then looked up at me.

  "Of course you can," the Pigeon King said mockingly. "But anyway, it's not your frail mortal body that I require, it's your mind."

  "What do you want with my mind?" I said, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

  "How long have you been having those nightmares?”

  I felt a thrill of fear run down my spine.

  "What nightmares?" I said quickly.

  "Please, little mageling, you were thrashing and screaming in your sleep like a man possessed. You've gone back to the book, haven't you?" The Pigeon King stared deep into my eyes, and I knew I could not lie to this creature. He would know every time.

  "Yes," I replied simply.

  "And you've begun to read it, haven't you?”

  "Yeah," I said again.

  "What have you seen?”

  I swallowed and looked away from him.

  "It will not stop, mageling," the Pigeon King said in my ear. "Mortals are not supposed to play with this power. The Craft is not for them, and whenever something is given…" the Pigeon King said.

  "Something is taken," I replied quietly, pulling my injured arm across my chest, suddenly feeling very weak, cold, and exposed.

  "At least you've learned that lesson." There was no empathy in the Pigeon King's voice, no kindness. In fact, it felt like there was a leering mockery in his tone. "I am a benevolent leader," the Pigeon King said. "Despite your less than desirable performance as a follower, I shall bestow upon you another gift. How would you like the ability to protect yourself in your dreams?”

  I looked up at the Pigeon King.

  "Tell me, mageling, in your study so far have you ever heard of Dream Runes?”