One bird’s failed escape attempt can sabotage the whole flock.
Photo credit: Luc Viatour
Returning from the privy, the commotion backstage drew the Searcher’s attention.
A monstrous man elbowed him. “Performers only.” Spotting the Searcher’s robes, he retreated. “Er, sorry.”
The woman’s body was tangled in a huge bird puppet. Nice act, that one. Flying over the crowd to music. Strings, he’d figured.
Wait, not a puppet. A costume. Then how did she…? He sighed. Considered remaining ignorant. Reconsidered.
Shoving the protesting manager aside, the Searcher grabbed the corpse’s wrist. Pushing back the sleeve revealed the brand.
“You employed someone convicted of godless magic?” Idiot.
Sad. This was the last good theater left, too.
Submitted for this week’s Friday Fictioneers writing challenge. Click here to see everyone else’s stories! Thanks as always to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for organizing it, and this week, to Luther Siler for the original photo prompt:
Here’s another story about a Sambaran Searcher: Burning Questions.