Keeper: First Ordinance, Book 2 (27 page)

"You hate them? I detest them," Ildevar grumbled. "At
least I can eat regular meals, now, instead of an entire sheep or cow away from
prying eyes."

"I've watched you eat," I said. "You have good
manners, at least."

"Lissa, don't make me laugh."

* * *

Vogeffa I

"Lord Cayetes, there's been another delay," Vardil's
assistant hesitated and almost ducked as Vardil Cayetes turned toward him.

"What in the name of my brother is it this time?"
Vardil hissed.

"The comp-specs aren't right," the assistant
mumbled. "You understand why we can't test the equipment first—we only
have one shot—at your command."

"Tell them I want this done quickly—we still have to
transport it around Alliance patrols and that will take time," Vardil's
voice was cold. "If I'm ill enough to die, then I want Marid's accomplices
dead, too."

"Of course, Lord Cayetes."

* * *

Avii Castle

Quin

"A vote can't be called in less than two eight-days, and
that's in extreme emergencies," Edden said. "Then we'll have to
consider the move itself if that's the vote of the majority—that will involve
the decisions of what to take and what to leave behind." I watched his
brow furrow—he was quite worried. "Do we have that long?" he asked.

"I don't know." I wanted to weep at my admission—I
had no idea why the danger felt as if it were fluctuating from one moment to the
next.

"I'm glad you're alive, Quin. I saw the vids," Edden
interrupted our conversation to say.

"Thank you. I'm glad, too," I agreed. "Although
I have no memory of the time in between."

"I have no memory of when you healed me," Berel
said, gripping my fingers tighter. He'd held my hand the whole time we'd spoken
with his father. "I regret that," he added.

"I remember it," Edden smiled. "It was a happy
day when you came to us, Quin."

"I was happy to heal that day," I said. "It was
only right to do it."

"What will you place on the ballot, and how soon will the
Kondari know what they're voting on?" Kaldill asked, bringing us back to
our original topic.

"We can devise the comp-ballot in two days and submit it
to all in a communication," Edden said. "I shall do this, but I warn
you, it will meet with much opposition. Most are of the mind that the poison
will be brought under control. I have no idea how to present this and expect
them to believe it so quickly."

"Has everyone seen the newsvid of Quin at the battle?"
Kaldill asked.

I blinked at him—I had no idea why he'd ask such a thing, and
it made me embarrassed to think that people had recorded it anyway.

"I believe most have seen it several times," Edden
replied, his voice dry. "There are fangroups that have formed, all speculating
as to her current condition and every other thing about her."

My breath almost stopped as an idea formed. "High
President," I breathed, "May I ask for sympathetic journalists to be
contacted? I will grant an interview."

"What?" Kaldill's voice was sharp as he turned to
me. After a moment, though, he nodded. "Yes. Call for journalists. Honest
ones who are trusted. Quin will grant an interview."

* * *

Harifa Edus

Fyris II

"I find myself wishing Quin were here," Rodrik spoke
softly to Beatris. "Amlis has been having fits of melancholy since he
learned his mother and my father died so swiftly after we left."

"They were warned," Beatris gripped Rodrik's hand. "I
spoke with Reah when she was here. She says that we may have a child within two
sun-turns."

"What?" Rodrik's eyes widened in surprise. "Are
you sure? That is so soon after your illness, my love."

"I don't know whether I should trust healers when they
say this, but Reah's word I believe," Beatris said. "I feel better
than I ever have, now. I wish Quin were here; she could say immediately whether
that is the case."

"We're back to Quin," Rodrik breathed. "She
could help Amlis, I have no doubt. I worry, however, that she has enough to do
where she is."

"Will she ever come back to us?"

"My dear, she was never ours to begin with."

* * *

Avii Castle

Quin

I had three days to prepare for the interview. Rather than
fretting over it, I decided to spend the time recuperating and reading Ulrin's
journal. Eventually I reached the pages describing his best years—when he was
selected as physician to Prince Tandelis.

He described the wife Tandelis took, who became ill during her
first pregnancy and died when the child came too early. Tandelis' grief was
described in detail, and Ulrin wrote that he doubted whether Tandelis would
ever remarry.

He hadn't, leaving no heir and the way to the throne ripe for
Tamblin and Yevil to usurp with a handful of deaths.

I had to get through many years' notes, then, to reach the
point where Tandelis was murdered—and it was noted that it angered Ulrin
greatly. Had Tamblin known of Ulrin's distaste for him, he'd have had the
physician murdered as well.

Disappointment clouded my mind when I found nothing at all
about me during that time, as it was then that my appearance was first reported
by those in the castle kitchens. I took a moment to curse Halthea and the
missing pages in Jurris' book before setting the journal aside—Dena was
bringing gossip with my midday meal.

Chapter 14
 

Avii Castle

Quin

"Justis has been with the King and the Council all
morning," Dena whispered as I ate. "Berel and Kaldill asked for a
meeting, but Ordin said you were still too weak to handle that sort of ordeal,
so they didn't call for you to attend."

"It doesn't matter," I shrugged. "You know how
most of the Council feels about me anyway. I doubt much has changed."

"They should listen anyway—Berel and Kaldill are telling
them what happened to the people in Fyris, and why the ones who didn't die were
taken elsewhere."

"You know most of the Avii won't want to go anywhere,"
I said, spearing a tiny potato with my fork and biting into it.

"I know. My mother is one of them. Change is so hard for
most people."

"Change isn't any easier for you or me," I pointed
out. "We just recognize the necessity of it."

"Ardis says we're young," Dena frowned. "That
we haven't lived long enough."

"I think that's rather prejudicial," I said. "I
believe Gurnil and Ordin recognize the danger, as does Kaldill, and I can't
guess at Kaldill's age."

"He's really a king?" Dena's voice softened.

"I—yes." I didn't say that Kaldill was more
important as a king than Jurris would ever be. Dena counted Jurris as her King,
and that was more significant to her.

"Maybe it's because we saw Fyris," Dena said. "If
my mother had gone, it may have made a difference to her."

"Nobody should go there now, unless they wish to die,"
I responded. "That's how dangerous it is."

"Where will we go—if we leave?" Dena asked. A part
of her wanted to leave, while another part wanted to stay. For her, much
depended on Ardis.

"I will tell you this, as your friend," I said. "This
is what I know—none who stay will survive. I want you to live. That's why I
went to Kondar—I wanted them to live, too."

"I know."

She did—in some ways. In other ways, she didn't understand at
all. Siriaa's days were numbered, and I had no way to impress that fact upon
any of its population.

"Ah, she's eating already," Berel and Kaldill
arrived, bearing trays of food.

"I haven't finished yet," I said. "Please, sit
and eat with me."

Justis walked in just as they were pulling up chairs. Berel
didn't speak to Justis, but at least he didn't leave the room. I was surprised,
however, when Daragar appeared, fashioned a large chair with the power he held
and took a seat behind the others.

I have a terrible fear that many people will die
—
by
their own choice
, I sent to him.

I know. The Wise Ones say the same. Do not blame
yourself—it is a choice many make, and one we may see as preventable at best
and a terrible choice at worst
, he returned.

Do you know how those from Fyris are doing?
I asked.

Yes—most of them are enjoying their lives for the first
time since they can remember. Their animals are thriving and they have enough
food to eat. Amlis, however, is depressed and has been since he learned of his
mother's and uncle's deaths so quickly after he left Siriaa.

Their choice
, I dropped my eyes to my plate. We were
back to that again—choices. Had they known they'd die so swiftly? Was it a
mercy that they had, rather than lingering with the poison sickness or the
wasting disease? There'd been no healers or relief left for them in Fyris—they
were on their own.

Perhaps I will take you to speak with someone who
understands these things—that the lives most lead may not be the only lives
they've lived or will live.

What if
, I began, before hesitating.
What if
, I
repeated,
this is the only life I've ever had?
Something in me wanted to
say it as fact, but I knew little about myself, after all. I'd stopped reading
Ulrin's journal for now—I felt it had gone past the point where any mention of
me would be made.

I do not know about that, and what you say may be true
,
Daragar replied.
Still, one who is wise may convince you, whereas I cannot
.

"Queen Lissa may have found a place for Siriaa's
refugees," Kaldill's voice broke into our mental conversation. Somehow, he
knew we were talking, and likely guessed at the main subject of our debate. "I've
already informed Jurris," Kaldill added.

I wanted to ask if Jurris had made a decision so badly the
words trembled on my lips. Holding my question back, I asked another, instead. "Where?"
It was simple. Direct.

"There is a world called Morningsun," Kaldill
replied. "A beautiful world, actually, deserted long ago by a race who
could transport themselves from one place to another. So strong was their
wanderlust, they never returned. They found it far easier to prey upon the
efforts of other worlds, rather than growing, gathering, making or herding."

"They found no joy in such?" Dena asked. "That
sounds strange to me."

"They were a strange people and nearly all of them
perished, due to their own foolishness. Only a few survive, now, and they live
elsewhere while they attempt to rebuild the race."

"Do they still wander from place to place?" I asked.

"The ability was taken away from most of them,"
Kaldill shrugged. "By Queen Lissa, who has some of that race in her
bloodline."

"I see there's a story in that," I said. "Perhaps
you'll tell me, someday."

"I'll let Lissa tell it—she knows it firsthand."

"All right." I set my plate aside and hugged
myself—I had no stories to tell. No known bloodline, either. I belonged
nowhere. It troubled me.

"Ordin says you may come back to your bedroom tomorrow,"
Justis said. I watched his hands as he ate—they were strong hands with long,
well-shaped fingers. He'd gotten those from his father; Jurris' hands were
smaller, the fingers shorter. Did I have a parent who gave me my hands? My hair
or my skin? Who'd given me wings?

"Quin, perhaps a visit to the Library?" Kaldill suggested.
"I think a glass of wine will not cause undue harm."

"Where is the metal box?" I asked. I struggled to
keep the quaver from my voice.

"Gurnil has it in his study," Kaldill answered,
although I could see he didn't want to do so.

"Perhaps Berel should do the interview," I said. "He
has a true connection to this world."

"What?" Dena sounded shocked.

"Surely you know by now that I have no connections to
Siriaa. My DNA—that thing that determines kinship—is like nothing anybody on
Siriaa has. Not even those from Fyris or the Avii."

"Quin, I see that this troubles you greatly,"
Kaldill set his plate aside and stood. "Perhaps we should table this
discussion for another time, when you feel better. I know this is rather
forward, but one of us should hold you now."

"I will take her," Daragar said immediately. His
chair disappeared when he rose. He then lifted me easily off the bed and I was
transported elsewhere.

* * *

"Where are we?" I asked. Daragar continued to carry
me through an immense, brightly lit room, lined with shelves and displays of
objects, both strange and familiar.

"The Larentii Archives," Daragar smiled and bent his
head to kiss me. He tasted of sunlight and warm days. I huddled against him as
he carried me past the first room and into another—and then another.

"Welcome." Nefrigar greeted us with a smile.

I burst into tears.

* * *

Avii Castle

"I was forced to place a healing sleep—the distraction
failed to work," Daragar settled Quin on her bed in Justis' suite. He felt
it would be better for her to wake there than in the healing suite.

"Nefrigar wishes to see the metal box," Daragar
continued.

"Will he come here?" Kaldill asked, brushing hair
away from Quin's face. She slept peacefully in the healing sleep Daragar had
placed, oblivious to the conversation around her.

"He will. Meet us in the Library in a few moments."

"Good. I believe Berel is already there."

* * *

"This is a stasis box," Nefrigar examined the metal
container carefully. "It was designed around Quin's small body at the time—that
much is evident."

"Have you seen such before?" Kaldill asked.

"I have one in the Archives, although it is not as
sophisticated as this one."

"How long do you suppose she was in that thing?"