Finder: First Ordinance, Book One (25 page)

"We have to find the source, and I can only guess that this has something to do with it," Edden sighed. "Do we have time to get an airship there?"

"We can have something ready to go from one of our island bases," Melis pointed out. "Here, perhaps?" He pointed to a large atoll between the western edge of Kondar and the eastern side of Avii castle. "We only have to alert the commander, once we notify him of our intended target."

"My question is this," Firth began, "what do we do, once we get there, and how do we explain our actions to the Avii king and his brother?"

* * *

"Master Gurnil," I said, "What will happen if some from Fyris decide to leave Fyris?"

He and Ordin chose to have a quiet dinner with Dena and me inside the Library. Dena had cleared off a Library table and set out a cloth to protect the surface so we could eat and talk.

"That could cause problems, I think," Gurnil replied thoughtfully. We'd eaten in silence at first; we were all hungry, although I felt better after sleeping for several hours after I'd fainted.

"What kind of problems?" Dena asked.

"I believe it involves the spell used to hide Fyris," Ordin explained. "The worst would likely happen if Tandelis' ring traveled past the boundary. There has been discussion in the past, with speculation that the spell would be neutralized if that happened. Fyris would be exposed as a result."

"Why is it so important that Fyris remain hidden?" I asked.

"I can't really say—all I know is that it involves Liron and the First Ordinance," Gurnil said. "Perhaps it was to keep the poison at bay as well, but we know now that it has traveled past the boundary to infect the waters around us."

"The fish are poisoned. Kondar eats fish, too," I pointed out. "They know this, I think."

"We can't tell everyone to stop eating fish—it will cause panic when they realize it could make them so ill," Gurnil said.

"Perhaps they ought to panic," I replied. "The ones who are mature and healthy may have no cause to worry immediately, but in Fyris, there are few children and the old are dying faster. Will that not happen everywhere, if the poison isn't contained?"

"It will," Ordin agreed.

"Is there information written on the First Ordinance?" I ventured to ask.

"There is, but it is locked inside Jurris' study. He alone says when it may be read by any other. There are sections, too, in the text, written in a language none can read. We have no idea what it says."

"Master Gurnil, I think I can read it," I said, trembling at the thought. I'd never seen written words I couldn't decipher.

"Quin, Jurris is in a foul mood of late. Give this some time, and I will ask at a better moment," Gurnil held up a hand. "I wish to see that text deciphered more than anyone, but dealing with the King is often a delicate matter."

"Of course." I understood Gurnil's words—up to a point. Jurris cared not that his people were in danger, just as those from Fyris were.

"I heard that Halthea was forced to move out of Jurris' quarters and into the Yellow Wing dormitory, where the unmated Yellow Wings who work inside the royal suites stay," Dena said.

I turned and blinked at her—it seemed that much had happened while I slept the afternoon away.

"I heard Jurris tired of her breaking everything within reach," Ordin murmured. "I also heard from the glassmakers that they've replaced his large mirror four times."

"Then I pity the Yellow Wings around her," I said. "She will make them miserable."

"I hope she doesn't think to get her red feathers back," Dena said. "The Orb itself made that decision. Yellow Wings had nothing to do with it."

I knew from the tone of her voice she resented that Halthea had yellow wings. Dena felt it tainted every Yellow Wing in Aviia, to have Halthea as a member.

"I hope things smooth out," I said. "Don't fret about it, friend," I reached out to pat her hand. "Since she's with the unmated Yellow Wings," I turned back to Gurnil, "Does that mean?"

"I believe he's working on voiding their relationship," Gurnil said. "And as he's King, the only permission he needs to do that is his own."

* * *

"Jurris, you don't need my permission to put her away. I would have done it sooner," Justis said, once Jurris' rant reached a conclusion. Justis leaned against a wall in his brother's study, watching while Jurris paced and grumbled about Halthea.

Wisely, Justis hadn't pointed out that Halthea's behavior was no different from what it had always been—the only difference was that she no longer had red wings. That, as it turns out, had been Jurris' sole interest in Halthea.

Justis noted, too, that his brother's study and quarters looked much better, now that Halthea was no longer there to badger the yellow-winged servants. Books and papers were stacked neatly, writing instruments were set in neat rows and everything was clean of dust.

The window had been washed as well, leaving Justis a clear view of clouds floating in the early evening sky outside the castle. "You think I'm doing the right thing? What if her wings turn red again?"

"They won't. When have you ever seen the Orb reverse its decisions?" Justis shrugged and pulled away from the wall.

"True," Jurris shook his head as he considered Justis' words. "There's no chance, is there?"

"None."

"What will we do? We have no Red-Winged females, now."

"Get one with your other wives. Either or both could produce a Red Wing daughter, you know. Surely Ordin has explained genetics to you."

"He has, but it's so complicated," Jurris muttered, raking fingers through his hair. "You think we ought to try? Will you send Wimla and Vorina to me? We should have dinner, I think, and I'll make my proposal to them. Both are on birth control, for the obvious reason. Now that there are no Red Wing princesses," Jurris shrugged.

"A sound decision," Justis agreed. "I'll send for them immediately. When will you notify Halthea?"

"Tomorrow. That will be soon enough, I think."

* * *

Halthea folded another sheet; she didn't care that it was crooked. It should feel blessed to be folded by her. Yellow Wings worked with her in the laundry room, pulling sheets and towels from large dryers and dumping them onto tables for folding.

Halthea was assigned to fold, since she had no experience and even less desire to know anything about the washers or dryers.

"I just overheard something," a Yellow Wing rushed in. "The King is sending for his other two wives."

Halthea jerked her head around as the gossip started. Did they think she wasn't there? Perhaps time was shorter than she thought, if Jurris was already considering Wimla and Vorina as mothers for his children. Plans would be made over dinner, and a weapon would be found.

* * *

"The word is out that she's leaving in the morning for Lironis," Tamblin's spy reported to the King.

"Good. Arrange an accident along the way. Halfway to Lironis should suffice."

"I'll see to it." The spy nodded and turned to go.

"Don't be gentle about it," Tamblin said.

"As you will it, my King."

* * *

Two trunks stood beside the door of Omina's suite—packed by her oldest maid. They were a ruse, to fool any who thought she might leave before her planned trip in the morning. It would be difficult—but not impossible—to slip away in the night.

Amlis and Rodrik had already left the castle—they'd gone drinking at an inn near the harbor and made sure the servants all knew. Wolter and Deeds had gone with them, as extra bodyguards.

Omina had to be more devious in her departure; Farin planned to go out to tend a sick child, with a servant to carry his bag and a man-at-arms for protection. Omina intended to be the servant, while Fen would serve as the man-at-arms.

Omina had never dressed beneath her station before, and knew it had to appear real to any who saw her, smelly clothing and all. With a sigh, she studied the maid's dress spread across her bed before reaching for the laces of her gown.

* * *

"You're just a man at arms. You can't even swim," Amlis slurred his words as he pointed his tankard of mead toward Wolter. "I'll bet anyone twenty royals that you can't do it."

"I can dive off a ship's prow—and swim back to the docks," Wolter declared, sounding just as drunk.

"Hmmph." Amlis drank from his cup, spilling more than he swallowed.

"I'll take that bet." Orik walked up to their table and dropped a small bag of coins at Amlis' elbow. "My ship is in the harbor. Shall we see your talents, master guard?"

Orik waggled his eyebrows at Wolter, who snickered drunkenly. "I get half your take when you win," he informed Orik.

"Fair enough," Orik agreed. "I enjoy watching a land walker get his comeuppance, though. The sea is nothing to tease, man. It'll take you faster than a maid's wink if you're not careful."

"Then I'll buy two rounds for every man here," Amlis announced, "and when we get back to announce the winner, I'll buy another round."

A cheer rose from those who'd chosen that particular inn for their nightly drinking as Amlis tossed a bag of coins to the owner. He, Wolter, Deeds, Rodrik and Orik walked out the door.

* * *

"That was a good idea—to buy them drinks so they wouldn't follow," Rodrik murmured as they made their way down a steep street toward the Sea Hawk. Orik's ship was docked on the southern end of Vhrist's harbor, where it was easier to slip in and out.

"I didn't want an audience just as we're escaping," Amlis remarked. "By the time we're well away, they can chase all they want. I'll warrant no pursuers will wish to follow where we're going."

"I'd take that bet," Orik agreed grimly. "When will your lady mother arrive?"

* * *

Fen wore the Queen's livery, a borrowed sword at his side. A sharp knife was in his right boot—ready if he needed it. He looked up as they left the castle behind; the moon was barely a sliver hovering overhead. Few clouds marred the sky, and those hung low and to the west.

"Master Healer?" A palace guard stopped them.

"It is I," Farin spoke. "I was summoned to attend a sick child at Noble Rolst's."

"His child is sick?"

"That's what I was told, so of course I must go—the Queen demanded it."

"Of course. You are wise to take these with you," the guard nodded at Fen and Omina, whose head and face were covered by a hooded cape. "It is dangerous to walk about in these times without a guard."

"The Queen said that as well," Farin agreed. "I must go, now."

"If you need more guards," the guard offered.

"No, I think we will be fine," Farin held the man off. "I hope to return in a few hours."

"I'll watch for you, then," the guard offered.

"My thanks."

* * *

"What is taking so long?" Amlis fretted as he paced the deck and watched the docks for his mother and Farin.

"Stop fretting. It won't get them here any faster," Rodrik dropped an arm on Amlis' shoulder. "Orik is only sailing with four, and they wish to leave Fyris as well. One of them is a woman, with a child."

"What?" Amlis turned to stare at Rodrik.

"He says she's his tailor, and she worries that her child will sicken again."

"Her child was sick?"

"He didn't explain it fully, so I suggest we ask later. Shall Deeds and I go looking for the Queen? Even I am worried, now."

* * *

As stern as she was, Omina wanted to weep when the docks appeared in the distance. She hadn't walked so far in a very long time and her feet ached from the bruising cobblestones beneath her feet.

Two things happened at that moment—Fen drew his blade and Farin grabbed her arm.

Run!
The voice in her head commanded. She ran as six brutes appeared between buildings, their knives drawn and murder and thievery glittering in their eyes.

* * *

Rodrik heard the Queen's scream and ran faster. Yes, the voice had come a second time to him, and he knew to obey its command. Fen was wounded but still fighting when he and Deeds arrived, their blades drawn. Was it too late?

The Queen was down
.

* * *

"Six men, lying in the street," Farin panted as Rodrik carried Omina aboard the Sea Hawk.

"They're all dead," Deeds growled as he followed Rodrik. "Farin, get yourself together—the Queen needs your help."

Amlis forced himself to move. When he'd seen Rodrik carrying his mother across the dock toward the gangway, he feared the worst. He'd heard her labored breathing as Rodrik carried her past, however, and understood that she still lived.

"What does she need?" Wolter asked.

"Get clean water. Whiskey if you have it," Farin fought for breath to speak. "I have the rest in my bag." He handed the bag to Wolter—he'd had to carry it after Omina was stabbed by one of those foul bandits.

"Right away." Wolter ran across the deck toward the galley.