Finder: First Ordinance, Book One (13 page)

"You don't have a hand mirror, do you?" Gurnil frowned. "Let me find one for you. Keep it on your dresser, to see for yourself."

"Glass is a luxury only the wealthy can afford in Fyris," I muttered. Gurnil had walked away a few steps but turned back at my words.

"How are they doing? Those in Fyris, I mean," he asked.

"They're dying. Just like their land," I sighed.

* * *

"What is this?" Amlis accepted the tattered message from Rodrik, who'd received it earlier from Garth in the stables.

"A conscript brought it from Vhrist," Rodrik replied. "The brown seal is still intact, no matter how bad it looks."

A brown seal meant the letter had been dictated by one and written by another, who sold their services to do so. If the sender couldn't write or had no wish to write it himself, he often paid someone else to do it and a brown wax seal with a courier's stamp was set afterward.

"Addressed to me?" Amlis accepted the message that looked to have been carried inside a filthy saddlebag.

"To the Prince Heir, Amlis of Lironis," Rodrik said.

"Fine. Open it and read it," Amlis ordered. Rodrik broke the seal and unfolded the paper
.

My Prince
, the message began.
It is with much sorrow and regret that I deliver this news to you, and had I known who it was we carried, I would never have agreed to accept payment to sail my ship to Aviia. She was brought to me unconscious and bound, her head covered by a bag. The bag was not removed until we had nearly reached the glass fortress. Only then did I learn it was your Finder that the bitch from Firith paid six men to kidnap, and it broke my heart to deliver her to those who would only take her life. I will not sign my name, as I know what my fate will be should I do so. I promised the girl that I would inform you as to what happened to her. My sincerest apologies to you, my Lord, for my mistakes.

The message was unsigned. Amlis rose and cursed, before flinging much of what sat upon his desk across the study.

"Why do you think Mother would send me this," Amlis rattled the message he'd gotten from Omina a week earlier, "rather than the real one?" Rodrik had gotten Amlis calmed after a while. A good bottle of wine helped.

"I have no idea why she would say that Finder was still under Farin's care, rather than hauled off to the Avii. If I didn't have confirmation on Mirisa's accidental death from one of her father's own men, I'd doubt that, too," Rodrik shook his head. "Something is going on and we have no way to discover what it is," Amlis muttered angrily. "How could she do this? How?"

"Amlis, she was quite overcome with your brother's death. You know this. And she worries that you might fall to an assassin's hand as well. Garth is watching Yevil as well as he can, as is Hirill, but Yevil is playing the solicitous friend to your father right now."

"Father has barely spoken six words to me since I arrived, Rodrik. And he has been approaching Lady Dimita, if my eyes do not deceive."

"Amlis, I have seen few pregnancies lately, and even fewer brought to term. Do not fret about your father replacing you. At this moment, he should worry about what stands at his elbow most days. Besides, he is still married to your mother. To claim a legitimate heir, he must put her away from him, and you know what she might do if he suggests that."

"And that could mean my mother's life is in danger, just as mine is," Amlis sighed and poured another cup of wine. "With her death, he is free to marry again."

"A frightening thought," Rodrik agreed.

* * *

"Quin, see me in my aerie when you are finished with your duties tomorrow," Master Healer Ordin had come to me after I'd put off going to him. I nodded to him and lifted another tray to take to the Black Wings waiting in the dining room. Ordin gave me a tight smile, frowned at Master Cook Barth and went on his way.

The Kondari had come, just as Gurnil said they would, and they would go through the stacks in the massive Library until time for bed. For four days, I'd carried trays of food and drink to them as they pored over books well into the night. Gurnil looked at them oddly when they spoke quickly about this or that paragraph in a book, not understanding completely what was being said.

Strangely enough, I understood their language clearly, and could have written it as well, if I'd had the inclination. Another, unexplainable thing that I was left to ponder. They were looking for information on a cure for some terrible disease, and had not the skill to heal it themselves. I guessed, and quickly, that they were physicians. I had no idea what they thought to find in books stuffed in the Avii Library.

"It says here the last talented healer walked through the gate six centuries ago," One of three men pointed to a phrase in his book.

"So, there are no others? High President Charkisul is desperate."

"We know they've asked to bring their severely wounded to us at times; of course there is no other," the third man declared in frustration. "Charkisul is grasping at the moons. There is no cure for this illness, and it is time he faced that fact and made preparations for his son's death."

"We cannot go back and tell him we have not exhausted every option, or read every passage," the second, more levelheaded one pointed out quietly.

"No, we will do our duty as assigned, and give him a complete report upon our return. Come, let us get back to work," the first one chided, and all three went back to sifting through stacks of books.

* * *

"Quin, do you know what this is?" Ordin held one of my now lengthy nubs in his hands, fingering a knob at the end of it. We stood before a large mirror, and I turned to look over my shoulder at what he was touching. I shook my head—I had no idea what it was.

"This is the beginning of a hinge," Ordin sighed. "The hinge we have to fold our wings up to keep them from dragging the floor behind us," he added. "You are growing wings, young one. Let us both pray to Liron that they are green."

"But I have no feathers," I pointed out the obvious.

"Quin, I feel the beginnings of pin feathers," Ordin ran a hand down the inside edge of my lengthening nubs. "In two or three weeks, we may have to roll off the pinfeathers so the feathers may grow out. We will know quickly which color they are then."

"Master Ordin, that cannot be a good thing," I quavered. "So many already think me a terrible aberration. What will they do when I grow feathers? I can only imagine the contempt will increase."

"Why are they growing now?" Ordin stroked his chin, muttering his thoughts aloud.

"Every spring, someone from the stables came and cut them away, at the court physician's orders," I hung my head. "Until this turn. The court physician died recently, and there was a new stablemaster."

"Do you mean to tell me those barbarians cut away your wings?" Ordin was furious, pacing away from me in heated anger. "Child, that must have been terrible pain," he hesitated in his muttered cursing to turn back to me.

"It was terrible pain," I nodded. "Master Ordin, I must get back to the Library. The Kondari physicians are searching for a cure to a terrible disease, and they are finding nothing in the books."

"Those are physicians?" Ordin lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes," I nodded. "They search for a cure for the High President's son. He is dying and they cannot cure him."

"How do you know this? They always speak in their own language when going through the stacks."

"I can understand it," my face went hot with the embarrassing admission.

"And Gurnil has been grumpy for days, because he cannot get them to tell him what they search for," Ordin said. I shrank away when Ordin stalked past me, snatching up a piece of parchment from his massive desk and hastily scribbling a note to Gurnil. "Take this to Gurnil and make sure he reads it immediately. I must go to the King." Ordin shooed me away from his suite, and I nearly ran down narrow, twisting corridors to get back to the Library and Gurnil, who waited there for me.

* * *

"The High President's son is ill?" Jurris sat on a comfortable chaise inside his suite, Justis standing nearby, listening but not speaking as Ordin supplied information he'd gleaned from Quin.

"Yes, Lord King," Ordin nodded respectfully. "I believe this is privileged information that the High President does not wish to be broadcast; else they would have asked Gurnil for assistance. They have not."

"I see. And what do you think we will gain from this information?" Jurris asked in a bored voice.

"We could gain much, if we cure the High President's son. We have something they will pay much for, when you think about it. If Quin can heal the boy, what might the High President offer in return?"

"Will he offer money for jewelry? More solar-powered machinery? We can do much with what the High President can offer," Halthea wandered in from Jurris' bedroom dressed in a red silk caftan, a glass of wine in her hand.

"We must pay for their physicians' services," Gurnil pointed out. "Why can we not demand the same?"

"You think the girl can do this? We'll have to cover those ugly nubs," Jurris rose. Ordin knew Jurris was not only considering this suggestion, he was already counting out the credits for his personal treasury. Ordin also knew that Jurris recognized the girl's talents; he was just too stubborn, too prejudiced and too immersed in Halthea's short-sightedness to allow him to take the girl and train her.

Ordin already intended to bring the severely wounded to her anyway, so they wouldn't have to be shipped to Kondari physicians. He hoped, yet again, that the girl would sprout Green Wings. That would make things infinitely better.

"I'll have the tailors make capes," Justis said and strode from Jurris' suite.

"Problem solved," Halthea examined a nail.

* * *

I huddled in a corner and trembled as three Kondari physicians by turns shouted and frowned at Gurnil. And this after he explained that I'd healed a mother and child not long ago in halting words, worried over which ones the Kondari might understand.

They were planning to offer my services to the Kondari, for a price. That information lodged in my head as soon as King Jurris had decided it. I had no idea why Ordin wanted to put me through this, but it was obvious that the King (and others) desired much of the technology available from Kondar.

"You and I are going with her, as is Justis," Ordin flapped into the Library, his wide, green robes swaying about him. His wings were ruffled from the flight—he'd flown and landed on the Library's terrace.

I could understand that Ordin and Gurnil might go, but Justis? Unless it was to guard the King's newest asset—me. And just as it had been in Fyris, I'd become a bargaining tool. No, I would reap none of the reward for doing what they asked of me; they would take it for themselves and demand exactly the same the next time. And the times after that. I was used to it, but still it burned.

"The High President will offer nothing until the boy is healed and the healing lasts and is confirmed," the eldest Kondari physician said, arms crossed over his chest.

"Agreed. We expect no less," Ordin nodded. "But once it is confirmed, then we will demand payment. The King waits for you now, to discuss terms."

* * *

My next two days were spent proving myself (under Ordin's close supervision) as I healed broken bones, burns and a few rashes. Not much, but that was all Ordin could provide in the way of illness and injury for the physician's approval at the moment. I did not offer that I'd cured a small girl in Vhrist of the wasting disease. The Kondari physicians called it cancer, and a rare form of the disease was what afflicted the High President's son. I worried they would question my talent and beat me, but I did not voice those concerns aloud.

"She seldom speaks," Ordin said when the eldest physician, an old and much wrinkled man, remarked on my silence. He did not elaborate upon my past and I certainly wasn't going to enlighten the man.

Capes were brought on the second day, and I was asked to wear them the entire time I was in Kondar. I didn't mind; I'd gotten a good glimpse of my still naked, lengthening nubs, which hung past my waist. The hinge that Ordin had pointed out to me looked to be growing larger, too, with an extension past the joint. I truly was growing wings, and they looked hideous.

More clothing was provided as well, in a combination of blues, yellows and greens (all backless), to match the capes provided. A Yellow Wing with the talent for hair cutting, makeup and such came to trim my hair so I would be presentable to the High President and his family. Otherwise, I think I might have been sent to Kondar dressed as poorly as I usually was in the stained, yellow outfits I wore in the kitchen.

* * *

"We'll fly in their mechanical contraption," Gurnil explained as we made our way onto the grass lying inside the glass bowl, after walking through a door I'd never passed through before. In the distance, I saw a flock of sheep tended by a watchful Gray Wing. Sighing a bit, as there was no time to spend with tiny lambs and mothers who bleated in my direction, I climbed high steps into a contraption that had whirling, blade-like wings attached. In no time, we were fastened into seats, which bore belts with metal ends that clipped together.