The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition by Abigail Hilton

took
after her mother at all.” Gerard tried to decide whether this had
actually been a joke and if so whether it was worth breaking all
codes of conduct over. “Wyverns can be killed,” continued Silveo.
“I wouldn’t advise it, though. The gods hold long grudges.”
    Gerard glanced at him. “I thought they were
invincible and immortal. Thess thinks so, and she’s studied on
Mance.”
    Silveo shrugged. “They may be immortal in the
sense that they don’t sicken or age, but I know they can be killed.
We’ve found the pelts in Resistance hideouts.”
    Gerard was fascinated. “You
found wyvern pelts?” That would be a
sight. Wyverns came in as many shades as
jungle butterflies, but they were all lustrous.
    “Yes,” said Silveo sorrowfully. “The
Priestess made us burn them. They were splendid, though.”
    Gerard laughed. “Wouldn’t let you make a hat,
eh?”
    “Not even one. Now, tell me about your
supposed meeting with the infamous Gwain. I’ve chased him on and
off for years and never laid eyes on him, but dumb luck seems to be
your strong point, so maybe you really did see him.”
    Gerard told Silveo about the teahouse and his
conversation with the shelt who called himself Flag. Silveo
interrupted when he got to the book and Flag’s explanation of it.
“Impossible. The phonetic is not a recognized form of writing in
any court in Wefrivain. No merchant vessel would dare keep records
in it. If they found themselves in a legal dispute, those records
would be useless.”
    “Do you read the phonetic?” asked Gerard,
before he realized that he might be asking something insulting.
    Silveo glared at him. “Of course I read it.
They use it all over Slag for unofficial purposes.” He hesitated.
“And if you’d like to learn, I have a couple of books on the
subject. Although…” He smiled sweetly. “I doubt you’ll be around
long enough.”
    Gerard decided to ignore
that. He must have taught himself
grishnard characters as an adult, or at least a teenager. It was no mean accomplishment. He almost said so,
but decided Silveo would probably throw the compliment back in his
teeth. Instead, he finished his story about the teahouse. When he
got to the part where he asked the shelt’s name, Silveo
laughed.
    “Flag. Oh, that’s cute.”
    “What does it mean?” asked Gerard.
    “You should ask Thessalyn. She’ll know, if
she’s the professional I take her for.”
    “What does it mean?” Gerard repeated.
    “Flag is a mythological hero from the very
old ballads. His stories are somewhat controversial. The originals
call Flag a servant of the Firebird who fought wizards and shape
shifters, but they also mention him killing wyverns.”
    Gerard sat back. “Ah.”
    “And Defiance,” continued Silveo, “is
definitely not a merchant vessel. I’d bet a heap of speckled
cowries it’s a pirate ship.” He shook his head. “How did he get
away?”
    “He walked out of the teahouse. I couldn’t
think of a good reason to detain him.”
    Silveo stared at Gerard.
“He walked out?
You just let him walk away?”
    “I didn’t know who he was. I just had a
general suspicion, and—”
    Silveo groaned. “What was
the Priestess thinking? She has put a lamb in charge of the Police!
Holovar, you do not need a ‘good reason’ to detain anyone! You serve an
organization renowned for arresting shelts without a ‘good reason’!
Next time you get pricklies in your tail or twinges from whatever
passes for thought inside your head, take the shelts responsible
into custody. If you don’t have the stomach to question him, I
will!”
    That’s exactly what I’m
afraid of . “What did you do with the guard
on the warehouse?”
    Silveo shrugged. “Took him inside, broke a
few fingers; he didn’t know anything. I think he really was just
hired to patrol.”
    “And afterward?”
    “Killed him, of course.”
Silveo watched Gerard’s expression. “I know you think I’m just
bloody-minded, but I’ve been doing this a