Finder: First Ordinance, Book One (6 page)

Half a click away we found ourselves on a high cliff overlooking water that seemed to stretch forever. Early afternoon had arrived and sunlight glittered on the water brighter than thousands of tiny candles. Tall spires of rock stood not far out, while the force of the waves crashed into them, tossing up white spray while birds wheeled and called out around them. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen and I drew in a breath, astonished by the sight of it.

"You like it, don't you?" Amlis chuckled beside me. I nodded in stunned wonder, staring as long as I could without blinking to imprint the vision in my memory. Even the air I breathed was filled with a golden glow as sunlight played across the Western Sea.

Too soon, Amlis reined Runner in and we turned back, all while my imagination ran wild, dreaming of what it might be like to wheel and fly about the spires on the western edge of Fyris.

* * *

Wolter was angry, his kitchen staff unruly and out of sorts. Three beatings had been parceled out already, and it wasn't even noon. The palace seemed to be growling with rage for some unknown reason and Wolter was hard-pressed not to walk out of the kitchen in disgust. Chen would come in soon and Wolter wondered for the fifth time if he could leave everything in his assistant's hands and retire to his quarters.

When the maid ran in sobbing, Wolter jerked his mind away from his thoughts and stared. The girl was covered in blood and babbling that two maids had just been beheaded by Yevil Orklis for making too much noise.

* * *

Perhaps two clicks from the inn where Amlis planned to spend the night the vision came. A bend in the road was ahead, heralding the beginnings of an evergreen forest. Even I knew the ground was rising—I'd seen the evidence on the cliff overlooking the spires. Moving Stepper up beside Midnight, I jerked frantically on Rodrik's sleeve.

"Finder?" Rodrik pulled Midnight back to see what I wanted. Desperately I gestured that we should avoid the bend ahead. He understood clearly enough, but Amlis had turned Runner around and now he was in the conversation as well.

"Finder, this is the only road in the area," Amlis sounded impatient. Our entire party had stopped by that time and I heard a bit of grumbling around us from men who were looking for supper and bed. Rodrik had said we were still four days out of Vhrist and tempers were running short.

"If we go around, we'll be going through a forest difficult to navigate on horseback, filled with low-hanging firs and scrub. I don't believe the men will like being slapped in the face by resinous limbs."

You
, I pointed to Amlis,
danger
, I tugged my right ear.

"We'll take care of it," Rodrik soothed. "Men," he said, "it seems the Prince may be in danger ahead. Be prepared."

They were ignoring me. I wanted to shout at them. Scream my lungs out for the first time ever. They were taking the road, when an ambush lay ahead. Sullenly I reined Stepper in behind Rodrik and the Prince as Rodrik's twelve gathered in a tighter knot around us. None spoke as we trotted toward the blind turn in the road.

* * *

"Son," Tamblin sighed as he gazed through the window of his study, "Yevil is getting out of hand. I'd like for you to take care of it. Discreetly, of course."

"I was wondering when you'd ask me to kill the old goat," Timblor stood and raked fingers through thick, black hair. "Father, I don't know why you've kept him at your side all these turns—he hasn't done anything except kill servants and stir up trouble when he drinks. He killed two of my maids only this morning," Timblor added petulantly. "For giggling."

"Son, it is past time that we found a wife for you," Tamblin sighed and sat behind his desk. "No, I'm not saying that you can't dally with the maids," he held up a hand to stop Timblor's words. "Everyone does who has a mind to, and Liron knows we have few enough children." Tamblin's eyes darkened with his thoughts for a moment. "But Yevil performed a service for me once, and I haven't forgotten. Make his death quick, if you wouldn't mind."

"I'll make it quick, Father, but you must give me time to plan."

"Take time to lay plans, son. I'm not in a hurry."

* * *

They were hiding in the edge of the forest—the same one that Amlis had refused to ride through—and attacked us as Amlis stared accusingly at me. He thought the danger was fictitious as we traveled nearly the length of the bend and nothing had happened.

Now we were in a fight for our lives as swords were drawn and at least twenty men fought against our fourteen. Frightened out of my senses, I knew not what to do at first—until one of Rodrik's men died as he and the others fought off more attackers. Amlis wielded a sword with the others, leaving me at the center of the maelstrom as Stepper turned and turned in a circle, just as frightened as I.

Dump them!
I shouted into twenty horses' minds and the attackers suddenly found themselves on rearing and bucking horses while Rodrik, Amlis and the remaining eleven backed up, confused by the battle between horse and rider taking place around them. Eventually, sixteen riders were unhorsed and on the ground, the remaining four or five galloping off on runaway mounts as riderless horses ran at their sides.

The clang of steel began again as Rodrik and his men dropped onto the ground and advanced on the unhorsed attackers. My eyes kept straying to the dead man on the ground even as others fell, both Rodrik's and their opponents. Still outnumbered, things weren't going well against what appeared to be well-trained and seasoned fighters. That's why I called our horses back and reluctantly ordered them to fight as well.

There was no time for my tears as the first horse fell, screaming in agony as the blade pierced his heart, but Rodrik took down the man as he pulled his blade from the horse's chest. Others, especially Midnight, were having better luck, but the sight of spilled brain after a vicious kick roiled my stomach.

Then it came—what I feared most. The hand drawn back, the dagger flying straight toward Amlis' back as he fought another man. Flinging myself from Stepper's saddle, I knocked Amlis away, only to receive the blow myself. The dagger lodged in my right shoulder and was buried nearly to the hilt. The rest of the battle I failed to see, as I was unconscious on the ground shortly after.

* * *

"Child, hold still, we have to get the dagger out." A strange voice woke me, along with excruciating pain in my shoulder. I'd dived in facing the knife-wielder and now the black handle of the dagger protruded from my shoulder, nearly forcing me to heave at the sight of it.

The one who'd spoken had thin, white hair hanging nearly to his shoulder, a lined face and dark-brown eyes. His forehead creased as he stared at me and at the dagger, creating even more lines on an already much-lined face.

"I'll hold her," Rodrik's voice spoke. I lay on a bed, likely at the inn Amlis had been so eager to reach earlier, where a fire was going in the fireplace across the small room. Rodrik came into view, staring down at me with lines also creasing his forehead. Truly, I didn't want anyone touching the dagger. My shoulder was on fire already, and pulling it out seemed a terrible idea.

"We'll have to sit her up," the old man said. That also seemed a terrible idea. It was; I wanted to weep when Rodrik lifted me up on the bed. Clenching my teeth to hold back the scream, I closed my eyes against the pain.

"Baby, don't look," Rodrik said softly against my ear as one arm clamped around my body, holding me still while he used his other hand to cover my eyes. The old man gripped the dagger handle and pulled it out. Darkness thankfully came as the dagger left my body.

* * *

"Six men we lost, because I was too stupid to listen."

"We might have lost all of them, and you as well," Rodrik pointed out softly, pouring more ale into Amlis' cup. The two of them were in Amlis' room at the inn, Amlis sitting before the fireplace, Rodrik standing restlessly at his side. "At least we had our guard up."

"I should have been thinking with my head instead of my stomach," Amlis growled. "Scouts should have been sent out before we went anywhere. Yet we blithely walked into that trap, thinking that we were in my mother's lands and safe from this sort of treachery."

"I've no doubt where they came from, though they carried no sigil," Amlis sipped his ale. He was well on his way to drunkenness and didn't seem to care. "We should have paid more attention and asked that woman at the inn days ago—the one who said a rider told her of Finder's gift."

"Makes sense, but I let it pass me as well. We have paid, cousin. Those were good men around us."

"Will Finder be all right?" Amlis turned his gaze to Rodrik.

"The physician says she'll likely heal. I sent two constables to my father to report the ambush. We'll have some of his men here before daybreak. Others I sent out to bring in the dead. We'll examine them more closely once we've had some rest. These were no outlaws, cousin. These were well-trained and not hungry."

"If I fail to listen to Finder again, I want you to beat me," Amlis drained his cup.

* * *

"It's willow bark, for the pain," the old man was back and pouring something down my throat. The brew was beyond bitter and I wanted to spit it out, but that would likely be unwise, since he appeared to have plenty of it on hand. Truthfully, I wanted to curl in a ball and moan, I felt so bad.

"There, all done," the man soothed. Belatedly, I realized he was a physician and likely a good one. "Now, we'll clean the wound and replace the bandage. When you travel tomorrow, young woman, we'll tie the right arm to your side—I don't want any movement for several days, do you hear me?" At least he wasn't shouting as Etlund had done, and patted my good hand when he was finished.

"How's the girl?" Rodrik wandered in and looked me over. I wanted to squirm uncomfortably under such close scrutiny.

"I hear we might have lost all in your party if those horses hadn't spooked," the physician stepped toward the door, turning to look at Rodrik before he left.

"That is true, and we still have no reason for that, as ours remained calm. My father is on his way with a cohort of men to help unravel this mystery. Do you recall any strangers in town?" Rodrik asked.

"None, and I've already asked at the other inn. They say the same. No strangers, so these came from the south. I'd stake my reputation on that."

"Thank you, Irvin. Astute as always. Will the girl be able to travel tomorrow?"

"If you'd bother to listen to me, I'd say no. But you never listen, so be careful and don't push too hard. I realize young Amlis wishes to get home where his own men-at-arms wait, but the girl doesn't need to lift and carry for a moon-turn."

"I understand that." Rodrik sighed and turned back to me, raking me with dark-blue eyes. "Rest as much as you can, Finder," he instructed. "We leave tomorrow morning."

"Doing my job for me, now?" Irvin grumbled as he and Rodrik left the room together.

Chapter 5
 

"From the south, there's no doubt. Likely Yevil's principality." Rath examined clothing, tack and even two horses that the local constabulary had managed to capture. Unfortunately, they hadn't found the five men who'd escaped on fleeing mounts, so Rath sent some of his guards out to track them.

The horses told the tale better than clothing or other items—they were bred for speed and endurance in the south. Runner was of that stock, although not a purebred.

"No surprise," Amlis growled. "Yevil would kill me on his own, even without Father's goading."

"He is a dangerous man; Tamblin has no idea how much evil stands at his elbow every day," Rath sighed. "You shouldn't have survived this attack—weren't meant to survive it," Rath eyed Amlis and Rodrik. Rodrik turned away from his father's bald statement. Neither he nor the Prince spoke of Finder's warning. "Six good men lost, too," Rath's voice accused. Rodrik stalked out of Amlis' room.

"Any reply to the message?" Amlis asked quietly after Rodrik's abrupt departure.

"Not yet. But we may not get one."

"You think they'll ignore it completely?"

"It's possible," Rath lifted the wine bottle and poured a cup, sipping from it thoughtfully. "Who knows what might have come after the slaughter? If Tamblin received any message, he never shared it with anyone and truly, not many know who was in Tandelis' chamber that day. Only a few of us are left—the others are dead as you well know."

"Yes. Mother buys many lives with her silence," Amlis agreed, flopping onto the chair before the fire. "But Father still seeks to take mine anyway."

"Your father, boy, is a fool, as is your brother for following at his heel. What can he hope to gain with your death? I cannot see it." Rath drained his wine cup and set it down with a thump. "Your mother won't say it, but you can bet that whatever happened that day, Yevil's arms were bloodied to the armpits with it. They don't die easy, Amlis. At least that's what I've always heard."

"The old physician in Lironis says that Finder may be Lady Rinda's child, and that Father sent her to the kitchens out of spite."

"The child was in Tandelis' chamber?" Rath stared at Amlis.

"Along with a second child, but the physician didn't know who that one belonged to. Likely dead with the others, too."

"Didn't know, or didn't say? Damn, I wish your mother would speak. Anyone else who might know who had babes at the time is dead. Except for that old sawbones. What made you go and ask him?"

"I didn't. Rodrik did."

"So, your page may be royal born, but no way to get Tamblin to admit it. Doesn't matter, the girl is mute and illiterate. No chance of finding a decent match for her, now. She has nothing to offer any prospects."

Except her gifts, which are astounding
, Amlis silently added. He wasn't about to inform Rath of Vhoorth that had he listened to Finder, things might have turned out quite differently on the road. And, if she hadn't leapt in front of an assassin's dagger, he might not have lived to regret his actions. "You'll have to give her up, you know, when you wed Mirisa," Rath added thoughtfully.

"I know. I was hoping Mother would keep her." Amlis heaved a regretful sigh.

"If I know Omina, and I do, she'll take the girl in. If for some odd reason she won't have her, I think I can find a place with my cook or housekeeper. The girl's not hard to look at and can't carry tales, after all."

Rath poured another cup of wine while Amlis carefully hid his distaste. Amlis was more than aware of Rodrik's hesitation around his father, and he knew the reasons. Rath's wandering eye upset Rodrik's mother regularly and Rodrik despised his father for it. He'd convince his mother somehow, to take Finder in. After all, the girl was more than useful, and she'd saved his life twice.

* * *

Rath of Vhoorth saw us off the following morning, after I'd eaten a little and had my right arm tied securely to my side. Irvin, who'd frowned the whole time he'd explained to Rodrik how to change my dressings if he were forced while on the road, provided extra strips of linen.

The physician also handed over a skin filled with willow bark tea and told Rodrik how much to give and when. Rodrik nodded as if bored by the whole thing, I was tossed in Stepper's saddle and off we rode. That day is a hazy memory, now, as I went in and out of consciousness and Stepper moved drunkenly at times, weaving to keep me in the saddle. The pain of it was terrible and I thought many times of begging Amlis to leave me at the side of the road so I might sleep.

Fever came to call, too, and I blinked away double and triple visions repeatedly. I could not recall later exactly how or when, but when we arrived at the inn that evening, I was wrapped in Rodrik's cloak and sitting before him on Midnight's back, with Stepper tied to the saddle.

Perhaps in another life I might have cared for Rodrik—he was still young as men in Fyris went, and handsome enough, but he'd beaten me quite hard, and he had a wife. I had no desire to become a gossiping maid, waiting until a man found the time to dally with me behind another woman's back.

As a lowly servant, I had no hope of ever finding a man of Rodrik's status—one who might think me more than a page or kitchen drudge who was subject to his every whim. No, I would remain alone, since the options available to me weren't really options at all.

After Rodrik handed me off to one of his men, I was carried into the smallest inn we'd found as yet and put to bed first, with instructions left with a kitchen girl to find suitable food while the local physician was sought. The healer was a woman and fairly young; she frowned at my wound as she pulled linen bandages away that were crusted with blood.

"Men," she growled as she cleaned the wound and gave me warmed willow bark tea to drink. By that time, I was grateful for the relief the bitter brew offered and drank it willingly. "They should have tended to this." I was bandaged again while the woman, who had long, reddish-brown hair and eyes nearly to match, railed against the ignorance of males in general. This was one who might even give the Prince a tongue-lashing, as dangerous and ill-advised as that could prove to be. Amlis might let a slight pass, but Rodrik certainly wouldn't.

* * *

The man who'd lifted me down the night before carried me on his horse the following morning. Rodrik must have chosen him—Deeds was his name and he was the eldest of Rodrik's men. He whispered to me when we started out that his youngest daughter was my age. He felt safe to me and I admit I slept most of the time, swaying with him in his saddle. The final two days of our journey to Vhrist went the same, although my fever came down with regular doses of willow bark tea and I was handed over to Queen Omina's personal physician the minute we rode into Castle Vhrist's courtyard.

* * *

"This is no ordinary half-breed, as your son and Rodrik believe," the physician wiped his hands after washing them. Omina had come to check on the girl—Amlis had given her the truth of Finder—although he'd warned Rodrik's men to keep her information hidden. She'd saved their lives, so they all agreed readily enough.

"What makes you say that?" Omina, her hair still thick and brown, although strands of gray were finding their way into the wealth that hung nearly to her waist, gazed at Farin Wold, the palace physician. Farin was of an age with the Queen, and they'd known one another growing up. He was going bald, however, his blue eyes faded from long service as a healer.

"The nubs are growing."

* * *

"Mother, I've only seen one before, and he was dead. It only appeared to be raised lumps of skin on his back," Amlis paced beside the fire. "What do you think this means?"

"I do not know," Omina sighed, accepting a cup of tea from Rodrik, who stood by, listening to the conversation between his aunt and cousin. "It could be that the poisoning has affected her, as it has so many others. Farin delivered a child just the other day—stillborn, thankfully—that had three eyes and three legs."

"That could explain it," Amlis nodded at his mother's logic.

"Still, I do not wish to touch them, and Farin flatly refuses to cut them away. After all, we may be able to use her to bargain with, if all else fails."

"Mother, you can't mean that," Amlis jerked his head to stare at Omina. Fierce determination glittered in her blue eyes, the same color that Amlis had inherited and the King mistrusted.

"Why not? Fyris is dying, and your father has this fool idea that he can just walk into the barbarian's homes and take what he wants. Do you think for a moment that we have enough ships, or can build enough ships, to carry the troops necessary to destroy them? I've read the histories—they far outnumber us, and the information we have is more than a thousand turns old. Who knows what they are now, or how they've progressed? We are the ones who have failed to evolve, I think. Admit it—we haven't changed much in all that time. We were driving carts and riding horse, and we still are."

"I hold hope that our message will have a reply soon," Amlis said.

"My son, I was there. My brother may hold hope, but I have none at all. We'll watch the girl, and use her if we must."

* * *

"Blackmail. That's what Mother suggests. And we'll be sentencing Finder to death, there's no doubt. The moment we turn her over and they learn she's only a half-breed, they'll kill her and we'll never convince them to help." Amlis paced inside his private suite of rooms while Rodrik watched, sipping a cup of wine.

"Face it, cousin," Rodrik sighed, raising his booted feet to a footstool set before the fire, "the girl has no prospects. Yes, I know she's been more than useful, but you have to think of Fyris, first. If we can get what we want before turning her over, then the deed will be done already and they can't take it back. We will sacrifice one, to save all of Fyris."

"But we'll still be faced with Father, Yevil and the madness that consumes both of them," Amlis muttered angrily.

"We will worry about that when the time comes. Fyris first, madness later."

"Don't forget to add mercenaries and attempted assassinations," Amlis said, smiling tightly. "I suppose Yevil is killing survivors. What do you think?"

"Hacking them apart is more like it," Rodrik observed grimly.

"Shall I wed Mirisa early? We could use Firith's aid, should Father decide to march against us."

"Consult with your mother and my father first. We don't want the King's anger earlier than anticipated," Rodrik hid a smile in his wine cup. "Of course, Beatris will arrive tomorrow or the day after. My lady wife might not mind planning a wedding."

"Do you think Northern Fyris will stand against the South and my father, if it comes down to that?" Amlis became serious, suddenly.

"I doubt it. Firith is the only principality we might count on completely, and only because old Mortin wants his daughter on the throne. I hear from Father that Mortin had a fit when Tamblin offered you instead of your brother."

"There's that," Amlis agreed. "Hand over that bottle. I want a drink before you finish it off."

* * *

"You will not be Amlis' page here," I was informed by Omina herself. "We have someone here who performed in that capacity before the Prince left for Lironis. You will heal, first, then we will find a position for you among my servants." If Omina had struck me, it might have been a softer blow. I blinked at her, silent as usual and worked not to betray my feelings in the matter.

The Queen wore her age well, and appeared to be at least ten turns younger than she was. I was sitting up in bed, having breakfast when the Queen walked into the tiny room they'd given me, making her announcement without realizing it would kill what little appetite I had. No doubt, I'd end up in her kitchens, just as I had at the palace in Lironis.

"That might have waited, Omina." The physician was back and watching as I carefully set my breakfast aside—there was a table situated beside my narrow bed that held my tray. I wished for the authority to rise and walk out on both of them, but I didn't.

"When would be a good time, Farin?" The Queen swept out, a bit of color in her cheeks. Likely, she would make me pay for that bit of embarrassment, although I'd truly had no hand in it. That seemed to be the way of things; punish the one who could not strike back. I'd seen it often enough at the King's palace.

"You should eat as much as you can," Farin eyed the tray. It mattered not; I was done with it and turned my head away at his words.

"Servants are generally not mistreated here," Farin attempted to make the Queen's statement easier to accept. Perhaps he believed what he'd spoken, but I'd watched silently all my years. Even the best masters mistreated their servants, now and then.

* * *

Vhrist, perhaps, was a more interesting city than Lironis, but doubtless it was because the high hills were nearby, and beyond those, the Northern Sea. After three days, Farin allowed me out of my bed and I slipped up many palace steps unnoticed until I came to the upper turret.

Accessed through a door and open to the elements, the turret was built of stones laid in a large circle, with pillars and arches holding up an elegantly domed roof. An inlaid tile design was on the floor, cleverly crafted to depict interlocking crowns. I had no idea what that meant, as I'd never seen a crown—the few times I'd seen Tamblin, he hadn't worn his—it was saved for High Court and special occasions. He'd worn a simple circlet in the Council meeting and at the dinner where I'd been beaten.