Keeper: First Ordinance, Book 2 (17 page)

"If that is your wish," I agreed. I was exhausted
and he knew it. "I'll get something to sleep in, first."

"No, your closet has been suitably stocked," Kaldill
smiled. "You'll find something there, I think."

"All right." Without further discussion, I allowed
Kaldill to transport me to his suite. He escorted me to the second bedroom doorway,
kissed my forehead lightly, pushed me gently inside and shut the door between
us.

I slept better that night than I had in a long while.

* * *

Another of Reah's mates appeared at breakfast the following
morning. I was forced to clench my teeth to keep my mouth from dropping open.

He was Larentii.

He was also Chief Archivist for his race.

I found myself staring at the ultimate librarian, who stored
much of the information kept in the Larentii Archives in his head. Bright-blue
eyes turned to regard me before they lit even brighter with his smile.

"You are welcome at the Archives anytime," Nefrigar
chuckled. The universe should stop in wonder, I decided, whenever a Larentii
laughs. "Ask Daragar to bring you whenever you wish," he added.

"When there is time enough to enjoy it," I replied
as solemnly as I could. After all, I had healing to do the moment I finished
breakfast, and hadn't touched the old physician's journal yet, to write the
report Gurnil requested.

"Nefrigar wishes to study your wings," Reah said. I
blinked at her, confusion tinged with worry clouding my mind.

"I only wish to touch briefly, to memorize the colors and
texture so a report may be written for the Archives. I have never seen such,
and there are no records in the Archives of any like them."

"That's fine," I agreed. I'd worried that he wanted
a sample, and I'd experienced having feathers plucked already.

"Young one," Nefrigar knelt beside me, "No
Larentii will ever bring you harm. Will you stretch out your wings for me, so I
may measure them?"

"We should go to the balcony," I said. I didn't
realize that everyone else waiting for breakfast would come with us, Ordin and
Gurnil included. There, in the early morning sun, I stretched my wings as far
as I could for the Chief Archivist of the Larentii.

Somehow, he could measure without using a tape or a stick.
Daragar appeared, nodded to Nefrigar and smiled as the Archivist touched my
feathers carefully.

"The sun makes a lovely color when it shines through the
bands," Nefrigar informed me. I'd never thought to look, to be honest.

"She doesn't stand for long before the mirror,"
Daragar said softly.

"You may fold your wings, now," Nefrigar said. "I
have what I need. Come see me at the Archives, young one." With that, he
disappeared.

"I received a message from Father this morning,"
Berel said as plates of food were passed around the table moments later. "I
recorded audio from the meeting last night, so he discussed it with Melis and a
few others."

"What did he say?"

"I'll tell you later," Berel promised.

* * *

Later came during a hasty midday meal—a sandwich again, while
I sat atop a castle turret to get away from the sick ones clamoring to see me.
I'd desperately needed the respite—healing was exhausting work.

The sick had learned there was no medicine to take, no
stitches in torn skin and no pain if someone were fortunate enough to be
brought to my cubicle.

Berel was forced to climb many steps to get to the window
beside my perch. "I'm sorry I made you come so far," I apologized. "I
worried that there would be a riot in the courtyard if I attempted to walk
away. I flew, instead."

"There must be more than five hundred people down there,"
Berel agreed, leaning his elbows on the windowsill. "I asked some of mine
to walk through and distribute small packages of food and water while they're
waiting, and Master Gurnil asked for benches to be brought so they wouldn't
have to stand so long."

"I know. You have kindness in your heart, Berel
Charkisul. I hope it always remains so."

"I know what it's like to be sick," he said with a
shrug. "If I could, I'd be down there, helping you heal them. Such is not
my gift."

"What did your father say about the meeting last night?"

"He says that if you leave Siriaa, I am to go with you."

"Berel, I don't know whether I'll go or not," I
stuttered, shocked by his words. "I mean the Avii will still be here, your
father will still be here, the people of Kondar and Yokaru will still be here
and the poison will still be here. It is a wondrous gift Reah and Queen Lissa
are offering, to take the people of Fyris away to a safer place, but there is
so much work to be done here, still."

"I understand that, but my father's scientists have
discovered what you already know—that the core is somehow leaking and its energy
is feeding the poison. While these findings are preliminary, they worry that
Siriaa will die faster because of it. Carrying two hundred thousand people away
will be nothing compared to the millions left behind in hopeless circumstances.
Already, stored food prices are up, merely based on rumors."

"Tapping the core. Now I understand what he did," I
muttered.

"Who?"

"The wizard who killed himself. He was sick and his power
was failing, so he tapped the energy of the planet's core to provide power for
what he wished to accomplish. In the end, because he faced Reah and Daragar in
your father's palace, he could not do what he intended."

"What did he intend?" Berel's voice was sharp and
fearful.

"He intended to kill your father and bend Kondar to his
will. President Pragg would have died, too, had he known it. Marid of Belancour
wanted the whole planet to rule, so he could sell the poison to criminals
everywhere. What he didn't realize is that there is no known cure for the
poison, once it escapes. I know not how Queen Elabeth kept it from spreading,
but she did. That secret died with her, and I have no idea if there is written
information anywhere as to how she accomplished that feat."

"So many other worlds are now contaminated with this
poison," Berel shook his head. "I don't understand the depth of
malice required to do such a thing."

"I believe it came down to jealousy and greed," I
shrugged. "I've seen that all my life. I have to go back, now." I
stuffed the last bit of sandwich into my mouth and chewed before taking flight
to the courtyard below.

Chapter 9
 

Lironis

"She needs a day off, but that could cause a riot. You
should see the looks the rest of us get when patients are brought to us instead
of Quin." Ordin rustled his wings in frustration as he stalked past
Gurnil—he'd arrived in the suite where their bedrooms were now located, to have
a shower and change clothes before going to dinner.

"They should understand that Quin will see the worst off,"
Gurnil began.

"We've told them that, many times. Still they complain.
Is Justis back, yet?"

"He's expected at any time."

"If Jurris keeps him longer than necessary," Ordin
huffed. "We need him and his guards to help with the crowds. We have to
inform him of the planned move; Reah tells me that she and several Larentii
have volunteered to construct schools and other necessary buildings in the
section of Harifa Edus they've carved out for the Fyrians. I still don't know
what the reaction will be, however, when they're dumped in a strange place with
no prior knowledge."

"Take your bath," Gurnil sighed. "We'll discuss
this over dinner. Perhaps Justis will arrive in time to join us."

* * *

Quin

I wobbled into the shower, exhausted. This was my routine,
now—work until I was exhausted every day, with barely a few moments to eat a
meager midday meal. At least Kaldill's quarters had the shower I'd come to love
so much, to wash away the sweat and grime.

My clothing went into a special hamper Kaldill supplied—it had
a tightly-closing lid so the smell wouldn't permeate my bathroom until someone
could collect it to wash.

A bench had been brought and placed inside the shower; Kaldill
had known, somehow, that it provided welcome relief for one who'd stood most of
the day to heal the sick.

I wished, too, for a way to give Ordin and the others time
off—all were showing signs of wear as they treated an endless line of patients.

Forcing myself to dry off after my shower, I dressed in the
first thing I could find in the closet and walked toward the door. Yes, I
should have been looking forward instead of down—I stumbled through the door
and walked straight into someone.

I shrieked—it startled me so badly.

"Here, now." Hands—and a voice—soothed.

Justis was back. I looked up into his face and burst into
tears. I may have wrapped my arms tightly about his waist, too—I don't
remember.

* * *

"Set the trays here," Kaldill instructed softly. I
heard his voice—he'd come to our suite shortly after Justis carried me inside,
still sniffling like a child. Daragar followed on Kaldill's heels.

Pulling my face away from Justis' black shirt, which was now
soaked with my tears, I saw that Kaldill had asked for our dinners to be
delivered to the suite. I wanted to hug him for thinking of it—there wasn't any
way I wanted to show tearstains to anyone else.

"Overworked," Kaldill said softly, offering a glass
of milk to me with a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen," I
mumbled, accepting the milk. I realized I sat on Justis' lap and felt
embarrassed because of it.

"No need," Justis wrapped fingers around my hand
that held the glass. "Drink this—you're probably half-starved, on top of
everything else."

I was, but I didn't want to admit it to the Commander of the
King's Guard, who'd just flown for hours to return to Lironis. If anybody
needed something to eat or drink, he did.

"We have food and drink for all of us, except Daragar,
who's already soaked up enough sunlight to do him for a while," Kaldill
laughed gently. "Come, we have enough seats. We'll sit and eat and talk,
if you want to talk."

That's how the four of us came to have our dinner in Kaldill's
suite that night, while Justis described Yevil's trip through the gate and his
screams and cursing beforehand. He also described Jurris' apparent depression
and worry that he could become what Yevil and Treven were—careless murderers
whose only concerns were for themselves.

"Should we send Ordin back to Avii Castle?" Kaldill
asked. He recognized Justis' worry for his brother.

"I want to, but Quin is already overworked as it is. If
we take even one healer away, it will place a heavier burden on those left
behind."

"If it will help Jurris, then I won't mind," I said.
"I doubt he could ever become what Yevil and his father were, but he needs
reassurance, just the same. If Ordin can provide that, then he should go."

"Quin, I don't want to see more of your tears,"
Kaldill offered gently.

"I know, but everything is in such a delicate balance on
Siriaa," I said. "Yes, we need to get the people of Fyris away, or
they'll die quickly. The poison is getting worse—much worse. I can feel it. If
one monarch or president or trusted leader falls, the balance will collapse and
Siriaa will die an even quicker death."

"You see the civil wars and riots that will come, because
the poison will consume everything and leave the people without food or clean
water, don't you?" Daragar interjected. Until that moment, he'd been
content to listen while the rest of us talked.

"Yes. I wish I had access to your Larentii Archives and
time enough to read and study the problem; I feel it has happened many times
before. A part of me wants to move all the people away, but this is their home.
Another part of me realizes that Marid, before he died, managed to infect many
other worlds with the same malady. Should we move to another world, only to
find the same difficulties facing us there? We need a cure for it," I
allowed my wings to droop. If the powerful couldn't find a remedy for the
poison, then all could be lost.

* * *

"If Amlis were here, he'd say no," Rath pointed out.

"My son will say yes," Omina countered. "He
will see the reason behind it—Tamblin will not be taken to safety with the
others and he will die eventually, because the poison will ensure it. I have no
desire to live my last days in Fyris, worried that a madman is on the loose. He
should be executed publicly for his crimes, before the people leave this world
behind."

"I'll wait to speak with Amlis."

"You do that," Omina flipped her skirts and stalked
away.

* * *

Quin

"Move your things into the suite next door," Kaldill
suggested when Justis rose to leave. "You and Quin. Daragar and I have
this building protected—none will approach her here—I fear the residents will
attempt to find her when she is eating or sleeping if we do not."

"That sounds reasonable. I'll move my things tomorrow,
and arrange for Quin's things to be moved as well. Sleep here tonight,"
Justis nodded to me. "I'd feel better if you did."

I swallowed my concerns—I'd find a way, surely, to move the
metal box without anyone asking questions.

* * *

The morning brought breakfast and a debate. Ordin wanted to
stay in Fyris. Justis wanted him to leave for Avii Castle after the meal.

"We're only waiting for the Prince to arrive with his
troops—the population will be moved after that," Gurnil argued Ordin's
case when Ordin's face darkened with anger.

"If the people can be moved, why can't the troops be
moved as well?" Justis stood and rustled his wings—he was just as angry as
Ordin—perhaps more so.

"The healers here are overworked as it is, and you're
suggesting we take one of them away?" Gurnil hissed.