Finder: First Ordinance, Book One (21 page)

"She is. Terrible thing, too. Knocked on the head and hauled to the glass castle. They wouldn't let her live, once she was dumped on their shore."

"It's worse than I imagined, then," Wolter shook his head. "We won't speak of this again."

"As you say, Master Cook," Deeds nodded. "Rodrik asks you to house me nearby, in case my help is needed at any time," he added.

"I have a space in a storeroom—Finder used to sleep there. I'll have a new mattress brought in."

"That will be fine, and I thank you."

* * *

"Where is Hirill? His absence is annoying," Tamblin paced beside his window. Occasionally he glanced at the floor, marking the place Timblor had bled after the stabbing.

"I know not," Yevil calmly examined his fingernails as he leaned against a nearby wall.

"He would be here," Tamblin began before stopping midsentence. "Never mind. Have there been any messages? I grow weary of watching recruits bumble about with swords. I want to sail from our shores soon. The barbarians will fall before us. We will be better equipped than those savages, even as poorly trained as my troops are, still."

Yevil's eyes narrowed, but he didn't answer. He merely offered the King a nod and stalked toward the door, intending to ask after messages for the King.

The moment the door closed, Tamblin released a breath. A cage was forming around him, and Yevil held the key. Somehow, Hirill was dead. Tamblin suspected Yevil had a hand in it, but had no idea whether Hirill was Yevil's friend or foe when he died.

* * *

"I know why Chen died," Amlis said. Rodrik poured wine for Chen's brother, Fen—they'd met at the inn on the outskirts of Lironis to talk. Garth had managed to remove Hirill's body to the inn the night before, with help from Rodrik's men-at-arms.

"I know you hold me responsible," Amlis continued, "and you are right to do so. Understand this, though. We are all in danger. Not just from the one who commands these deaths, but from the poison consuming Fyris. We have the body of the one who killed Chen. I wish we had the body of his master as well, but we can only do so much in the face of greater adversity."

Fen accepted the cup of wine with a curt nod for Rodrik before turning to the Prince. "It pleases me that my brother's killer is dead. It displeases me that his master is not." Fen released a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment.

"It matters not," he breathed, shaking his head. "I know the situation is tenuous, and our lives count for nothing in this cursed land. I will take the body. It will not be found."

"Thank you. Might I interest you in a place at my mother's castle in Vhrist?" Amlis asked.

"Where Chen was? He spoke fondly of his time, there."

"I'm offering you the same, if you'll carry a message to her."

"After this, I wouldn't mind moving away. I've lived in Lironis' shadow far too long."

"Good. Rodrik's men will load the body in your cart while I draft the message," Amlis said.

* * *

My morning began just as the previous morning had—with a beating to remind me of my place.

The two Yellow Wings watched in satisfaction—perhaps my punishment mitigated theirs in some way. If that were true, then they would distance themselves and come to despise me the same as Halthea did. I ignored them and went to work on the closet.

Halthea's closet was organized and neat before my six hours were up, but still I was struck between my wings before I left for Ordin's study. Ordin was furious when he rubbed salve on the opened wound from the day before.

"It is the way of things," I shrugged uncomfortably when he was finished.

"Does it not make you angry?" He frowned at me.

"What good does anger serve, when there is nothing you can do to change your circumstances?" I replied.

"She'd get her comeuppance if she wore yellow wings instead of red," Ordin huffed. "Never mind, take your book and read. Your notes from yesterday were very good."

Rain fell outside Avii castle that afternoon, so I chose a quiet spot in the healing rooms to read.

"Let me see your feathers." Justis arrived while I was so immersed in the book I failed to hear his approach. His voice caused me to jump, although long practice kept a squeak of surprise behind closed lips.

He cursed softly at the wounds on my back when I turned for him, and I was surprised at how gentle his fingers were when they brushed short feathers. "They're dragging the floor, Quin," he said, taking his hands away and turning me to face him. "Get Ordin to show you how to use the hinge to fold them up. It would be a shame if they gathered dust on the tips."

He walked away, then, as quickly as he'd arrived.

* * *

I found myself practicing the use of my wing hinge the rest of the evening before bed. Like a muscle I'd never known I had, it ached after a while, but at least it worked. Gurnil and Dena were surprised and pleased that it worked so well.

"When your wings are fully grown and extended, you'll practice flapping before you ever attempt to fly," Dena said. "I can't wait to see what they look like. White wings! They're amazing."

* * *

"I told him to stay off the road and be wary," Amlis said. "We've played our hand. If that message is intercepted," he didn't finish.

"One traveling alone may not cause a stir. I believe him safer alone than with two of my men."

"I agree, but that doesn't mean he won't be in danger anyway. I gave him enough coin to get to Vhrist, and Mother will offer more for the delivery of the message."

"Then it's time we rode back to the castle."

"Have you ever wanted to ride in the other direction, instead?" Amlis asked.

"More times than I can count, my Prince," Rodrik replied.

* * *

"Did you know there were so many books in here?" Deeds asked as he and Wolter surveyed Quin's old sleeping space. Books were stacked about her mattress, which was worn so thin as to be next to nothing.

"Most of them aren't illustrated, and that puzzles me. I can understand that she might find the illustrations interesting, but the others?" Wolter shook his head.

"What's this?" Deeds lifted a book from the top of a stack and pulled out a scrap of parchment. "It has writing on it." He handed the piece to Wolter.

How long ago were these people observed?
Was written in a scholar's hand on the scrap.

"What book is that?" Wolter asked. Deeds handed it to the cook.

"It came from near the middle," he offered as Wolter flipped through the pages.

"Look at this—I barely recall seeing this before all these books were confiscated." Wolter showed Deeds images of the barbarians, barely clothed in rough leather or in fur with bits of shell or other primitive adornments hanging about their necks.

"Those are the barbarians from the northern continent," Deeds shrugged. "My mother used to frighten me into obedience by saying they were coming to kidnap me."

"Who wrote this?" Wolter turned the scrap in his fingers.

"Who knows? Did anyone else ever come here, besides Finder?"

"None. This was filled with dust and abandoned before the girl ever moved in. This makes me wonder, though. Those books are old that hold these images, and they're copies of other books older than that. Whoever wrote this," Wolter waved the scrap, "was right to ask that question."

"Perhaps. Shall we leave it for now?" Deeds asked. "I must replace this mattress and find candles. It is dark and stuffy in here."

* * *

"What is this?" Rodrik accepted the package Deeds offered.

"A book I found in Finder's old sleeping place. Take a look at the scrap of parchment and the place it marks," he nodded. "I have to get back before anyone notices."

"Take care. It seems even the castle stones have eyes," Rodrik muttered.

"I feel them," Deeds responded and turned to slip into the shadows outside the Prince's suite.

Chapter 14
 

All day, Halthea was attended by two dressmakers, who took the fabrics the Princess had purchased in Kondar to make new clothing for her. I fetched, carried and served her and both dressmakers as they discussed cut and design.

It wearied me, and like the previous days, I was given no midday meal. At least I could ask for food before going to my studies; Ordin understood and approved my hasty trips to the guild kitchen. There, Master Cook Nina made sure I was given a proper meal before I rushed to Master Ordin's study.

Ordin, too, had begun to quiz me on my readings, and I was happy to answer all his questions. I found the physiology of the body, winged and not winged, fascinating. He and I had discussed the way the heart pumped blood through the body only the day before.

"Quin," Halthea's rod fell heavily on my back, "fetch us tea. Immediately."

"Yes, Princess Halthea," I mumbled. I couldn't call her Queen in front of the dressmakers, but she'd demand it later, when we were alone.

"That girl is an abomination," one of the dressmakers announced as I left Halthea's well-appointed receiving room behind.

"It's better if I keep an eye on her," Halthea replied with a laugh. The Brown-Winged dressmakers followed her lead and laughed with her.

* * *

I was glad to get away from Halthea that day. She and the dressmakers had discussed something in my absence, and I was too afraid to use my gift to see what it was. My back still hurt from her last blow when I returned with tea; I served it without a word as they gossiped about this guild member or that while they sipped and nibbled.

* * *

"Master Ordin will tend to it," I muttered as Nina studied my back. I ate inside her kitchen—a bowl of lentil stew, with potatoes and carrots added.

"I curse these backless blouses around anyone who hits," Nina grumbled. "While Jurris might hear any other case," she shook her head.

"I know where I stand," I said, dumping the spoon in my half-finished bowl. "Thank you for the meal, Master Cook Nina." I carried the bowl to the scrap box, emptied it and loaded it into the dish machine. At least I knew how to do that.

What I didn't know how to do was make a cruel person kinder. I allowed that thought to simmer on my way to Ordin's study. I also used my gift to research Halthea's parents—how permissive had they been to allow her to become what she was? What I found surprised me.

"Quin, what is it?" I stared stupidly at Ordin when I arrived, wondering whether I should ask my question.

"Wh-who," I stuttered, "was Treven?"

"Has someone frightened you with stories of that bastard?" Ordin stood, suddenly angry.

"N-no, I just, I can't explain it." My feathers, grown long enough finally, rustled at my back in agitation.

How could I tell him that Red-Winged Treven had fathered both Halthea and Jurris? Jurris slept with his half-sister without knowing, and thought to make her Queen.

The Avii thought Halthea's parents went through the gate together. Instead, her mother's husband had forced his wife through first, then followed her immediately. He'd discovered that his daughter was not his daughter. In my estimation, Halthea had inherited—in full measure—her real father's penchant for cruelty.

"Treven was a real abomination, if you ever want to hear of an actual example," Ordin muttered as he examined my back. "Nothing has been written, but enough of us know of his cruelty that it doesn't matter. Quin, he's dead. Stop worrying about that, all right?"

"I will, Master Ordin."

Ordin silently tended to my back, then sent me out to the terrace for my reading assignment. Three hours later, I realized how hungry I was when I returned the book and my notes before heading toward the Library and my room. Dena would go with me to the dining hall. Someday, I hoped to fly there instead of walking.

* * *

"Hold them up for a few seconds longer, if you can," Dena instructed.

My wings, half-grown feathers and all, were extended all the way on each side. "I wish you could see this," Dena breathed. "They'll be magnificent when they're fully-grown. They're already pretty, with the thin bands of color at the tips."

"Not everybody feels that way," I sighed, letting my wings droop. Holding them up, when that was something I'd never done before, was tiring. "How long can you fly?" I asked, changing the subject. I had no desire to tell Dena that two Brown Wings and a Red-Winged Princess had denigrated what I had earlier in the day.

"I can fly for more than an hour, but I don't fly that much. Justis might fly for six hours or more. Long enough to reach Fyris or Kondar, I know that much. He used to make the trip with Camryn and Elabeth, when Tandelis was still alive. Elabeth always carried the baby with her. I can carry someone with me, but not far. Someone with more stamina might carry another for a long distance before having to set down."

"Will you work with me every evening, then, to make my wings stronger?"

"Of course I will. You don't have parents to do that for you, so I'll fill in," Dena promised.

"You're the only friend I've ever had, and you turned into the best one I could ask for," I said. She hugged me for that, and it pleased me.

* * *

It is such an unusual thing that I can see or feel danger for others, and never for myself. That's how I'd ended up at Avii castle, after all—I'd never seen my kidnapping. Had I known what Halthea and her seamstresses planned during my brief absences the day before, I'd never have gone to sleep in my room.

My door flew open in the early hours before dawn, and seven descended upon me, yanking me from the bed and tossing me onto the floor. They were masked and dressed alike—in black robes so I couldn't see who they were. I screamed when two of my primary feathers were yanked from tender wings.

Gurnil came running. One of the attackers—the tallest, hit the Master Scholar as he burst into the room, knocking him unconscious and into the doorframe. Dena screamed outside the door; she'd witnessed Gurnil's fall. I knew that he needed my help—his head was bleeding.

My attackers turned back to me, ready to yank out the rest of my feathers. It had already come to me, what they planned to do. Treven had designed this torture, after all, and called it
the plucking
. Such attacks were reserved for his enemies and those he found mildly annoying alike.

These never guessed that I knew who each of them were by employing the gift I had. When a third primary feather was ripped away while one of them moved to harm Dena, I screamed mentally for help.

Two came to my aid.

The Orb and an angry Larentii.

* * *

I'd crawled to Gurnil's body to heal him. He had a brain injury that could kill him or alter his mental abilities if I didn't.

Dena had been knocked down, but never lost consciousness. The Orb pulsed over my head, after flashing light so bright it had blinded all of us, then blasted power at the attackers, rendering them unconscious.

Daragar fussed with my wings while I tended to Gurnil. The pain I had from having my largest feathers jerked from my skin was soothed quickly while my healing light joined that pulsing from the Orb.

Gurnil blinked up at me after a few moments, and discovered Daragar and me bending over him.

That's when Justis arrived, with Jurris and several black-winged guards right behind. Justis cursed at the state of my bloody wings, three bloodied white primary feathers on the floor and seven masked and hooded bodies scattered across my bedroom.

Striding angrily toward the tallest, who'd harmed Master Gurnil, he pulled the mask away, revealing the Black-Winged guard who'd attempted to kill me when I first arrived.

Other masks were ripped away. I saw the seamstresses—both of them—from the day before. One of Halthea's yellow-winged maids was there. Two more black-winged guards were revealed, then Halthea herself. I heard Jurris' intake of breath, then.

"That one attacked me." Gurnil pointed at the tall, Black-Winged man.

"Master Gurnil would have died had Quin not attended to him," Daragar said. He'd stepped back to allow Justis room to unmask the attackers, and stood against a wall, blue arms crossed and a frown upon his lips.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jurris demanded.

"You won't find out until they wake," Justis snapped. "The Orb rendered them unconscious. You'd think that Ardis would have learned from his first encounter with the Orb."

"You may deal with the Black, Brown and Yellow Wings as you see fit, brother," Jurris nodded to Justis. "I'll handle Halthea."

With that, Jurris stepped toward Halthea's body, followed closely by two of his guards. "Lift her and fly her to my suite," Jurris commanded one of them.

All gasped as Halthea's robe fell back, revealing her wings. They were as yellow as those of her unconscious maid beside her.

* * *

"Where is that cursed Orb? I want her back as she was," Jurris shouted. Justis sat nearby as Jurris paced and fumed on his private terrace.

"This has happened twice before, brother, and the new colors were never reversed." Justis found the situation more than acceptable and quite humorous, but he kept that to himself. "The Orb passed judgment. Halthea planned that attack, for no reason that I can see. You know we have laws against it; you helped Camryn design those laws. As for your question, the Orb is still in the Library, hovering over Gurnil and the girl."

"It has never approached me as it did Elabeth and Camryn," Jurris grumbled.

"I have no answer for that," Justis shrugged. "What will you do with Halthea? The others are in the holding cells at ground level. Their cases will be heard by the Council, and unless I miss my guess, the Orb may attend those hearings. Whether they consider the girl at all in this, the fact remains that Gurnil could have died without her intervention."

"I cannot place her in a holding cell," Jurris snapped. "She needs help."

"She no longer has red wings. The Orb passed judgment already," Justis said as calmly as he could. He wanted to shout at his brother, pointing out that Halthea had broken the law.

"Leave me," Jurris waved his hand, dismissing Justis. "Halthea will remain in my suite tonight, and I will decide tomorrow, when the Council is convened."

Without a word, Justis rose and left his brother alone.

* * *

"I want to heal these, making their replacements grow, but this must be discussed by the Council," Daragar fingered the wounds on my wings.

Gurnil sat nearby, while Dena offered him a cup of tea. He accepted it gratefully and drank. Blood still spattered his sleeping robe—he hadn't bothered to change after the attack.

"I thank you for coming so swiftly, Master Gurnil," I said. "I'm sorry they attacked you as well."

"You healed my wound. I am more than grateful for that," he nodded to me.

"Gurnil? Are you well?" Ordin swept in, blinking at the artificial light inside the Library where we were. It was still an hour before dawn, after all.

"I am, thanks to Quin," Gurnil lifted his cup of tea. "Want some? Dena has more in the pot."

"I'll take it. Word came to me, but Jurris pulled me away to check Halthea first. There isn't a foundering thing I can do about a shift in wing color. The Orb made judgment against Halthea. She should have known better."

"They should have known better," Gurnil huffed before sipping his tea again. Dena placed a cup in my hands before moving to serve Ordin. "This won't sit well with some on the Council. You know why," his mouth tightened as he jerked his head in Ordin's direction.

"Prejudice is a difficult enemy to defeat," Ordin agreed. "Perhaps it is time to post a guard outside the Library entrance, my friend."

* * *

Ordin sent Gurnil, Dena and me to bed before he left, saying he'd send someone if we were required at the Council meeting. Daragar disappeared once he repaired my bedroom door and I shut it behind me. Leaning my back against the thick wood, I heaved a trembling sigh.

It was more than possible that the Avii would be divided over the night's events, and I wasn't looking forward to it. My lot wouldn't have mattered much, had Gurnil not been injured and Halthea not been changed by the Orb.

Gurnil and Ordin had danced around the truth and not asked me any questions. I couldn't tell them that I'd sent a mental call for help, bringing the Larentii and the Orb to my aid. Letting my wings down, I held the left one in my hand and studied the holes where primary feathers should be.

Somehow, those feathers had disappeared, and I had no idea who'd taken them. My wings draggling behind me, I walked toward my bed, climbed in and pulled up the covers, shivering beneath them while the weight of Siriaa settled on my shoulders.

* * *

"Master Ordin and Master Gurnil were called to the Council meeting," Dena said as she set the tray of food on the table beside my bed. "It's almost dinner hour, so I asked for something from Nina's kitchen."

"Have you eaten?" I asked, studying her. She looked pale to me, and her usually sunny smile had fled.