Finder: First Ordinance, Book One (12 page)

"Master Healer Ordin, this is Quin, a half-blood from the kitchens," the girl introduced me to a robust Green Wing after we climbed many steps to reach the Healer's aerie.

"Dena, how is your mother?" Master Ordin smiled gently at the girl, his brown eyes kind, his brown hair fine and floating about his head in morning sunlight.

"My mother is fine," Dena hung her head, seemingly ashamed.

"Dena, there is no shame in any job well-done," Master Ordin scolded. "And no shame in real love, either. Your mother has three mates and it was a gamble on whether you'd have your mother's Brown or your father's Yellow. Now, what did they do to this one?" He turned me gently to look at my back.

"One of the guards pulled a nub," Dena explained.

"I see that. He should be whipped for this," Ordin muttered. "It doesn't matter if they're half or whole. Nubs this large are tender and fragile. But then you already know that, don't you, child? Hold on, I'll get the salve and bandages."

I jerked my head up at the Healer's words. Salve? Bandages? What had happened?

"They bleed when they're like this," Dena whispered. "As well as being painful if anyone squeezes them. Nine-year-olds here start growing their wings, and everybody tiptoes around them, they're so touchy and the wings so painful. I remember when mine were growing." She didn't finish; Master Ordin had returned.

Gently he cleaned the injured nub, put salve on it and wrapped it carefully. "No work for two days, and the bandage can come off then," he announced. "If it troubles you, come back and I'll have another look."

Dena and I parted after a while so she could go back to the kitchen and I could find my way to Gurnil's Library. He started to ask questions when I appeared, then saw the bandage on my nub and pulled his words back. I walked past him into the Library itself and closing my eyes, searched for what I wanted most. Without fail, my talent answered, so I walked to a shelf three rows back and pulled a book from a shelf almost too high to reach.

The Deaths of Elabeth and Camryn
, the title proclaimed. Now I would discover what many talked of when they hurled insults my way. I was determined to know why someone would feel compelled to injure me when they knew from experience how tender the nubs might be. I imagined the pain of it was akin to a kick in the testicles.

"You read?" Gurnil was walking beside me as I opened the book and flipped past the first few pages to get to the actual beginning. What I read that afternoon explained much, and Gurnil kept an eye on me, offering me lunch after a while.

As I read, I learned that there had never been a King in Fyris before Tamblin. Tandelis, his elder brother, had held the throne before Tamblin took it. He and all the previous male rulers of Fyris had borne the title of Prince.

Tamblin, thinking to take the throne by force from his brother and declare himself the first King, killed Tandelis and a group of visitors inside the throne room one summer morning nearly sixteen turns earlier. That group of visitors included King Camryn, Queen Elabeth and Princess Lirin of the Avii.

"All dead," Gurnil read over my shoulder while sipping a cup of tea. "It was most heartbreaking when Lirin's tiny body was delivered with the others. Most heartbreaking, indeed."

"Yevil killed them." My voice cracked from turns of disuse.

"Yevil?" Gurnil hid his shock at my speech as well as he could.

"King Tamblin's right hand. He is evil." I shut the book forcefully and stood.

"Calls himself King, does he? We call him bastard and murderer. If it weren't for the First Ordinance, he would be dead, now."

"None are safe around Yevil Orklis. If you have a word that means worse than bastard or murderer, then that is Yevil Orklis."

"How did you learn to read?" Gurnil trailed after me.

"I have no idea," I told him and became silent once more.

* * *

Two days later, I was back in the kitchen, carrying trays of food to waiting officers. Gurnil informed me that Justis' presence inside the dining hall on the day of my attack was a fortuitous accident—he normally ate with the King and other members of the King's Council. Gurnil knew of this because he, as Master of the Scholar's Guild, was a member of the King's Council even as Justis was, being Commander of the Black Wing Guards.

Nevertheless, I was not attacked or shoved again by the guards, but that did not keep Jadin from delivering blows along with his insults, or keep the other kitchen workers from leveling their hatred at me. I wanted to tell them that Tamblin, Yevil and the King's inner circle were only fourteen men out of many people who populated Fyris, and most of those did not deserve the hatred of the Avii. They'd had no hand in the killing of Camryn, Elabeth or their child. Now, all I had to do was find a reference to the First Ordinance that Gurnil had spoken of.

Food was still not offered to me as I worked my shifts in the kitchen, and when I wasn't serving, I was set to peeling or chopping vegetables. I was not allowed near the stove, which fascinated me—it was operated by power instead of burning wood.

Master Cook Barth would frown if I walked anywhere near it, so I quelled my curiosity and stayed away. Every day I went to my small room near the Library, very hungry and increasingly weary. At times, I followed Gurnil to the Guild dining hall, but as I was truly not welcome there, he often brought a plate back to me, after watching the cook dish it up herself.

The first moon-turn was winding down, too—I'd kept count and there were two days left of it as I made my way to the kitchens that morning. The day started like any other, and the normal insults were ignored as I walked to the serving table to pick up a tray. One of the cooks was pregnant and probably two months from delivery. She it was who laid out sliced meats on plates while others dipped porridge or set out cut fruit or eggs.

I was thinking of my own hunger as I pulled a laden tray onto my shoulder. The pregnant one went to her knees with a cry. Jerking my thoughts away from my own misery, I knew immediately that something terrible had happened. If the baby were not delivered quickly, it would die. I also knew that children among the Avii were a rarity, since they lived such long lives.

Shoving the tray onto the table, I ran toward the pregnant cook, who now writhed in the floor, weeping. "Get back, get back!" I shouted at those crowding around her. "Send for Master Ordin. Quickly!" I dropped to my knees beside the distraught mother and using up every bit of energy that I held, pulled the babe from the mother's body so it could breathe.

The cord was still attached and the child was exercising his lungs when Master Ordin and two other healers came through the kitchen at a run. Everyone else had backed away from me the moment I'd taken the child, and a golden haze still surrounded the infant, the mother and me when Ordin knelt at my side.

"He would have died if I hadn't done it," I carefully placed the squalling babe in Ordin's hands. "I should go. I feel light-headed."

I did feel light-headed. Dizzy, too. Three steps I took toward the kitchen door when the blackness came. The last I remembered was the hands that caught me before I fell, and those hands were quite large and blue.

Chapter 9
 

"Mother and child are fine. Perfect. I couldn't have done a better job if I'd been standing over Raina, with a Kondari physician at my back." Ordin accepted a cup of tea from Dena. She'd followed him and the others after a litter had come for Raina and the baby.

"How did she do it?" Gurnil arrived after someone informed him that the Larentii had disappeared with Quin as soon as she'd performed what looked to be a miracle.

"Master Gurnil, I saw it," Dena breathed. "I think she put her hands right through Raina's belly and came out with the child, but Raina didn't have a mark on her afterward, and the cord was coming from the proper place, too, if you understand," Dena's comment was nodded away by Ordin.

"Master Cook Barth says the same, and he didn't want it to be that way. He still wants to find fault with the girl, where there's no fault to be found. Is that correct, Dena?" Ordin turned his eyes toward the girl, who blushed.

"Yes, Master Ordin. She never does anything wrong, but they all insult her anyway, and Jadin hits her when Master Barth isn't looking. Worst of all, Barth never offers her food. I think she doesn't eat until she leaves the kitchen."

"That would explain the fainting," Gurnil stood angrily. "I'll go straight to Master Nina myself. Barth should have a few stripes for that alone."

"My question is this—where is the girl now? That's a powerful healer, and we haven't had one of those in centuries," Ordin snorted. "Where in Liron's countryside do you think the Larentii took her?"

* * *

Disorientation clouded my mind when I awoke, so I blinked several times, trying to bring what I thought to be dream remnants into focus. "It is not a dream, Quin. This is something you should have seen when you arrived. These never think of it, it being commonplace to them," Daragar's voice came.

I was lying in his arms when I awoke and looked out upon a huge glass bowl with meadows, gardens and flocks in the center. Daragar stood upon a glass spire that rose high in the air, and I had no idea how he managed to balance himself and hold me at the same moment.

"This castle is twice as large as Lironis," Daragar informed me as I stared at sheep and cattle grazing below us. The green of the meadows made me want to weep it was so beautiful, with fruit trees growing in neat rows in the distance. This was what Fyris should be, and wasn't. The bowl was so large I couldn't see the far edge of it, and all of it was glass.

"It takes a day to ride across Lironis," I whispered.

"Yes. If you travel by horse, it does. Now, young one, we will find something for you to eat." I looked into Daragar's eyes; they were bright and shining and kind.

"Thank you for catching me," I lowered my eyes, embarrassed.

"I would not have forgiven myself if I hadn't."

* * *

"What have we here?" Daragar and I had disappeared from our high vantage point and reappeared inside a kitchen I did not recognize. A woman with blonde hair piled atop her head stared at me, her fists settled squarely on ample hips.

"The one who saved your daughter and her child," Daragar put me down. I wavered, but his hands held me up gently. "She has not received a meal from Master Cook Barth since she began working for him a moon-turn ago."

"This is the half-blood," the woman sighed as she looked me up and down. "Doubtless a babe when it happened, and blameless in it as well. Barth will know my fury. Soon. After I feed this one, here. Girl, sit before you fall, and I'll make something for you."

"She does not eat meat," Daragar explained for me.

"All the better. I have beans and lentils, and some greens ready."

I received a bowl of food quickly and set about eating as swiftly as I could without appearing rude. "I am Master Cook Nina, Master of the Cook's Guild and cook for the Royal family and the Council, most of whom are real asses," Nina handed a chunk of bread to me. I dipped it immediately in my beans and lentils to soak up some of the broth. It was delicious. Likely, her cooking skills had made Nina Guild Master for the cooks and kitchen helpers.

"Ordin says my grandchild might have died," Nina settled onto a seat across from me. We both sat at a prep table on high stools while I ate and Nina watched.

"The placenta separated suddenly and the child was deprived of oxygen. If my little one here hadn't taken the child quickly, he would have died. As it is, the child is perfectly healthy. Ordin is correct on that matter," Daragar confirmed.

"I've never known you or any other Larentii to say more than two words before," Nina handed Daragar a speculative look.

"I speak when it is necessary," Daragar said.

"I see that. Well, girl, would you like dessert? I think I have some cobbler left over from lunch."

My spoon dropped into the bowl and I stared at Master Cook Nina, dumbfounded. None had ever offered dessert to me before—not even Wolter. Leftover pies and cakes were always given to the lesser nobles before any of the servants, and even then, only the highly placed ones could hope for sweets to come their way.

"She's never had any," Daragar said quietly as I continued to stare at Nina.

"You'll have some today," Nina declared and went to get another bowl. Not only did I have peach cobbler for the first time in my life, but a glass of chilled milk to go with it. I could have wept at the taste of both; they were so good together. Every scrap that Nina gave me was eaten quickly and with a great deal of happy satisfaction.

"You could have sent word," Ordin and Gurnil walked into Nina's kitchen together.

"The girl hasn't eaten properly since she arrived. I'll be banging Barth's head with a skillet, rest assured," Nina declared, hands on hips again and a nasty glint in her eyes. I shrunk back the moment Ordin walked in—I feared that he might be angry, since I'd acted as I had. Daragar was correct—I knew the child would die if something weren't done, so I did it. I was prepared to take a beating for it, too.

"Master Ordin is not angry with you, Quin," Daragar placed a hand on my head for just a moment, his blue eyes meeting mine. "I must go." He disappeared, as he always did.

"First the Orb and now a Larentii," Gurnil muttered at my back.

* * *

"She's a half-blood and has no wing color. How can we place her in the Healer's Guild?" Justis watched with hooded eyes as Ordin stood before the Red Wing King. He'd argued his case to allow Quin to work with the healers. Jurris was against it and was now voicing his opinion on the matter.

Justis held no doubts as to where that opinion originated—Halthea stood at Jurris' side, just as she often did in Council meetings. Jurris turned to her often, asking her opinion. Simpering always, Halthea never failed to give it.

Jurris' two other wives seldom appeared at Council meetings, although they were welcome as Jurris' mates. Jurris never listened to Green-Winged Wimla or Brown-Winged Vorina as much as he did his Red-Winged princess. Yes, a Red Wing Queen would have as much say as the Red Wing King, and Justis knew that Jurris desired Halthea on the throne at his side. Elabeth had voiced her distaste for the girl many times in Justis' hearing, and flatly refused to name Halthea heir.

Justis thought the matter settled when little Lirin was born, but the child died when Camryn and Elabeth were murdered. Now, Ordin and Gurnil argued for the girl, the others against. He frowned when Nina spoke. No, Nina hadn't said anything against the girl, other than she was half-blood and didn't have wings, but that fell right into Brown Wing Farisa's opinion that no half-blood could be anything other than a lowly servant.

The fact that Farisa had never seen the girl had Justis narrowing his eyes while she argued loudly and gestured wildly. Gray Wing Gordin agreed with Farisa, his voluble dissent likely heard by yellow-winged servants several halls away. Jurris expected his brother to vote his way, but Justis disliked what the detractors were saying.

There were four votes against Quin already, so his would count for nothing. Justis' argument would only anger his brother, who might consider going around him at last and placing Halthea on the Queen's throne against Justis' objections. Jurris and Justis shared the same mother, with different fathers. Justis' father, a Black Wing like himself, had always advised Justis to select his battles with a wise head and a stern heart.

"What say you, Commander?" Jurris had come to him when the other arguments looked to die down somewhat.

"My vote is with my brother," Justis replied, standing and stretching his ebon wings. It was his way of telling all present that the debate had gone on long enough. Enough votes had been cast to keep the girl serving in the kitchens already. She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but she had no feathers and the lengthy, bare nubs were unattractive. Justis' wingspan was longer than three tall men, standing head to heel. Jurris' Red Wings were six hands shorter than his brother's, but they were
Red
.

Ordin was angry enough as he stalked past Justis, but Gurnil bristled and rustled his wings as he walked past. Justis sighed—he'd have to smooth feathers somehow, and Green and Blue had often been his allies in the past. He'd let them down in order to fight a more personal battle. "Thank you, Justis," Halthea had come up silently as Justis watched Gurnil walk away. Trailing a finger down his chest, Halthea offered a vapid smile.

"Lady," Justis dipped his head respectfully and strode toward the arched doorway, leaving Halthea staring angrily at his back.

* * *

"I can't believe Nina would do this. Justis, too. I was counting on both votes, and they abandon us. That girl can likely heal almost anything, and they do this." Ordin paced on Gurnil's private terrace. Outside terraces were reserved for royalty and Guild Masters.

"As it is, if we can't deal with something, we have to carry the patient to Kondar for treatment, and that means another shipment of glass bowls and vases. Farisa should have thought of that before she laid out her sermon. We barely make enough from our imports now to run Avii castle. We can't afford to give our work away to heal anything beyond our abilities, not to mention the problems we're having with any childbirth and the reasons there are no pregnancies to begin with."

"I know," Gurnil held up a hand. "We both know that once Jurris cut off all contact with Fyris after the murders, that our trade with them was cut off as well. Kondar has grown and evolved, Fyris hasn't. Perhaps he should have sought another way around this and backed someone in Fyris who could take the throne and bring the murderers to justice."

"That would have been the prudent thing to do," Ordin agreed. "But Jurris was named heir to Camryn, therefore he rules. Then, just as it was today, the Council majority ruled in his favor."

"And the girl goes back to the kitchens," Gurnil muttered.

"May I join you?" Justis flapped in, landing perfectly beside Ordin who froze in mid-pace. "Here," Justis held out a bottle of wine. "You're not looking at the broader picture here," Justis smiled at Ordin and Gurnil. "Let the girl work the kitchens and send for her if you need her. Barth owes me, anyway. I'll advise him to let the girl go if she's needed."

"So, it's all right to just trample her underfoot until we want something, is that it?" Gurnil stood as Justis' smile faded. "How long do we mistreat a race, Justis, until we become our enemies?" Gurnil nodded to Ordin and walked toward the glass-paned doors leading into Ordin's private suite.

"I have to admit that I have no appetite for it myself. Good night, Commander." Ordin followed the path Gurnil had taken, leaving Justis standing amid Ordin's flower garden on his private terrace.

* * *

They'd discussed me during the Council meeting—I knew it without doubt. I also knew how the vote had gone and didn't expect it to be otherwise. It was just as well—why should I have any lofty ambitions? A kitchen drudge had been the extent of my life, a few moon-turns as Amlis' page notwithstanding. He'd been no different, taking what I'd offered him and still treating me as the common servant I was.

Dena, though, I worried for her. She watched the Black Wings covertly, as if she wished for that life. Born as a Yellow Wing in a strict, hierarchical system, she had no hope of attaining that dream. Fyris was the same—if you were born a servant, you died a servant. There was little in the way of bettering oneself. Business owners tended to birth more business owners, while nobles tediously birthed more of the same.

* * *

"Quin, we'll have Kondari visitors tomorrow," Gurnil informed me the following evening. "They pay a fee to search our books for ancient history. The money is useful to buy what we can't make ourselves. They'll eat in the Guild dining hall. Two Yellow Wings will come in the morning to clean their assigned quarters and provide fresh linens. Generally they are more respectful than some of ours." I watched Gurnil's eyes carefully as he explained things to me.

"What do they look like?" I asked, curious.

"Much like we do, only without wings or nubs," Gurnil smiled at my question. "Kondari have a different language, but those coming tomorrow speak enough of ours to get by. And Ordin wishes you to come to him sometime in the next week; he noticed that your nubs are thrice as long now as they were when you first arrived."

"They're growing more?" I was dismayed. Jadin still muttered naked wing at my back every day. He still hit me with a wooden spoon, too, when Barth wasn't looking.