WhiteWing

by Connie Suttle

  Don't worry, Ashe nudged me toward my chair and pulled it out with power. When she is ready, you will see her.

  Dinner was a wonder, and I still can't recall what I ate. Ashe talked and laughed with all his guests, as if he were the same as they. Kay, his beautiful mate, seldom spoke but she was kind and witty in turns when she did so.

  Many times, though, Kay glanced from Zaria to me and back again. I wondered why that was, but didn't wish to pry.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Ilya

  "A bidding war. Brilliant," Gubb was gleeful when I asked to meet all three prospective employers.

  That meant he received a percentage of whatever the boss was willing to pay me as a yearly wage. Gubb's death was becoming more intricately painful in my imagination as time went on and I learned more about him.

  Zaria's talents would have been welcome when I met with each of the three, but she wasn't here and I wasn't going to involve her in any of this. A part of me recognized the fool I'd become, and how proud that fool actually was rather than admit my mistakes and ask for help.

  "First, I have to have a dossier to present to them," Gubb said, lifting a comp-vid and preparing to take notes. "Who have you worked for in the past? Where were you trained, if you were trained to use those blades you carry?"

  "I worked for the Eagle Warlord on Falchan," I said. "I was trained by the Falchani Sursee for the Eagle Warlord. I am also trained to handle more sophisticated weapons."

  "Have you ever used a ranos pistol?"

  "Yes."

  "Ranos rifle?"

  "Yes." As I suspected, the criminal element on Paricos II had access to weapons they weren't supposed to have. Not that they followed the laws of either alliance, who only allowed ASD and CSD agents to carry the dangerous weaponry that employed ranos technology.

  "How did you get training on those weapons?" Gubb pretended disinterest.

  "Through a business associate."

  "Do you have a name? Nobody on Falchan uses those weapons."

  "Not a name I'm willing to give—for professional reasons, you understand."

  "Of course. These bosses appreciate that sort of loyalty."

  They wouldn't appreciate it if they knew the weapons I'd trained with were ASD issue and provided by Director Griff. "I can operate most hovercraft and fly small transport ships as needed," I offered.

  "Licensed?"

  "I was before I came here. Those licenses were issued by both Alliances and aren't accepted here, or so I'm told."

  "You operated in the Alliances?" Gubb betrayed his rising interest.

  "Until I came here."

  "It takes talent to do that," a smile crossed Gubb's face for a moment. His price was rising and he knew it. "Can you elaborate on anything you've accomplished?"

  "Well," I pretended to consider his request. "I may have been in the vicinity of a bank when accounts were emptied, and somewhere near where murders and kidnappings took place, but I really can't give more detail than that." All those things were true—I just didn't commit any of them.

  "Excellent," Gubb's eyes lit with greed.

  "And," I added, "I have saved the lives of my associates on many occasions." Some of those lives—Deris and Daris'—shouldn't have been saved. That singular act would leave a black mark on my soul for as long as I lived. They'd helped create and maintain the monster that Cayetes had become, and too many deaths were attributed to those three alone.

  "Good. Very Good. I will transmit this information and arrange the meetings," Gubb shut off his comp-vid. "Where may I find you to let you know?"

  "I'll be here tomorrow at noon for a meal," I said, rising from the scarred table in his bar. "I have fewer worries if nobody finds me unless I want to be found." Lifting my leather jacket off the bench beside me, I jerked my head at Gubb and strode toward the door.

  * * *

  The rooms I'd rented were cleared of insects and invasive animals through the spells I'd cast to eliminate them. The space was also cleaner and better furnished than it had been when I arrived.

  The window in the room I'd paid for in the city of Fendala, Paricos II's capital, had a view of the bay where sleek, hover-yachts bobbed above the water next to smaller fishing craft run by locals. At least the oceans of Paricos II were clean, even if the hearts and morals of many of its citizens weren't.

  I'd considered bringing in a boat of my own—after buying one elsewhere. Docking fees couldn't be more expensive than the rent I paid for a view of the harbor and little else.

  If I were forced to work for a boss, I'd likely be housed at his compound. Many of those lay farther up the hills surrounding Jagged Bay, with high walls enclosing them and guards visible if you looked hard enough.

  Word had it that the bosses were involved in everything from assassinations to smuggling. The evidence of smuggling could be seen in most shops, with higher prices on even the commonest of Alliance items.

  Some items passed off as Alliance-manufactured were counterfeit, however, and that was another line of income for the bosses. I'd also heard several say that Paricos II was now what Campiaa had been under Arvil San Gerxon, minus the casinos, of course.

  Wellend was correct; Paricos II was the perfect place for Vardil Cayetes to reform his empire.

  * * *

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  Wellend arrived with Warlend, asking to have a private dinner with me. It was an unexpected visit, but they were family—my great grandfather and uncle, actually. They wished to tell me something; I merely had to wait to see what it was.

  They no longer looked like Corolan and Warrik, Wylend's former guard and seneschal. They looked like themselves, as they had millennia ago. They'd served in those capacities for Rylend, too, before Zaria revealed their true identities. Ry still trusted both with his life, although they no longer served at the palace.

  "We came to ah, clear the air," Warlend's forehead creased with concern. He worried that I'd judge him and Wellend, both.

  "For sleeping with Wylend?" I lifted an eyebrow.

  "Well, for appearing to sleep with him," the furrows deepened on Warlend's forehead. I'd hit the nail on the head with my first attempt. I was about to tell him that I wasn't concerned with what was in the past, but that would be a lie.

  "We had to stay near the throne; I hope you understand that," Wellend began.

  "I understand that. What do you mean, appearing to sleep?"

  "Look, we're talking sex here, not sleeping, and we didn't," Warlend growled.

  "How did you pull that off?" I demanded. "Wylend practically wrote poetry to Corolan, he was so good in bed."

  "Because it was all in his mind, and that generally tends to be better than the real thing, as often as not. Not that I'm a slouch, you understand. Reah has no regrets, I believe."

  "Jeez Louise," I rose from my seat at the table placed inside the arboretum for this private dinner. Reah. Corolan—Warlend—was mated to Reah. How had I forgotten that?

  "We've talked. She's trying to come to terms with all this," Warlend said softly. I had my back turned to him and Wellend by this time. Like Reah, I imagined, I was having difficulty coming to terms with it, too.

  "How did you pull that off?" I whirled to face them again. "Wylend is Fifth-level. You weren't—Erland said you were both Third-level or thereabouts."

  Wellend coughed and looked guilty before ducking his head. It hit me, then. Corolan had been stronger than a Third level—I'd known that about him. It was why Wylend allowed him to act as a bodyguard, or disguise himself and sit the throne. A fake throne, I reminded myself.

  "Zaria did that," I blinked at both of them.

  "The ones we resembled—when she changed us to look like them, their power was added to our own," Warlend admitted. "She didn't tell us to fool Wylend after that; we came up with that on our own, to stay close to the throne."

  "We worried at first that someone would attempt a second coup—there were
still angry factions among the population. We acted as members of Wylend's personal guard at first, until our—ah—talent at diplomacy came to his attention," Wellend added.

  "He wanted us as lovers after a while; we accommodated that request—in our own way, of course. By giving him the best sex dreams he'd ever had."

  "An unusual talent," I said dryly. Taking my seat at the table again, my eyes wandered from Warlend to Wellend. "I wish Wylend hadn't done what he did to you," I nodded to Wellend. "Removing your ability to father a child—that's treasonous. I feel it was karma biting his ass when he didn't find Griffin until thousands of years later."

  "The universes turn in strange ways, at times," Warlend said. "I'm grateful to my granddaughter that I'm alive and have more power than before. Together, Wellend and I have protected the Karathian throne, even when we didn't always agree with Wylend's decisions or actions."

  "The perennial problem of serving royalty," I agreed, allowing my shoulders to sag. I realized I'd been holding myself stiffly and had an aching neck and shoulders for my trouble.

  "Let's have some wine," I suggested. "I think this has been difficult for all of us and we need to loosen up. Let's leave the past where it is." I gave both a fake smile; I secretly hoped we could leave the past behind, but that is often much more difficult than it sounds.

  I lifted the bottle of white from its wine bucket as Wellend and Warlend exchanged troubled glances and sighed.

  * * *

  V'ili

  Vardil rolled three spheres in his fingers, as if they were mere baubles instead of precious items worth perhaps trillions in Alliance credits. He stared hard at the one who'd come to bargain for his planet.

  "Not enough," Vardil hissed. "You can do better than that. Where do you think you'll go when the poison kills everything?" he demanded.

  Devarr, King of Carek Prime, shuddered imperceptibly. Already, hospitals on his non-Alliance planet were filling up with those afflicted by the poison disease. He needed to do something quickly, to save what was left of his dying world.

  I wanted to laugh at the situation. Inadvertently, Vardil had accomplished what most criminals only dream of; creating a problem, then charging as much as he could to fix it. Devarr, perhaps, was paying now for his refusal to join either Alliance, although his world would qualify. Isolationistic, most called Carek Prime.

  "This is all I can afford," Devarr handed a comp-vid to Vardil. The revised amount was larger than the previous offer, by a third.

  "Much, much better. Transfer that, and this will be yours," Vardil held up one of the spheres. "Guaranteed to work. I'll give a full refund, too, if you can bring me this." He lifted his own comp-vid from the desk and handed it to Devarr.

  "A winged woman? How is that even possible?" Devarr's voice broke.

  "As I said, find her, deliver her to me, your wealth will be restored." Vardil leaned back in his chair while still toying with the spheres. "In the meantime, transfer those funds to me now, and you'll have your salvation."

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Ilya

  I disliked Weir of Paricos II the moment I met him. Tall, thin, nervous; he unsettled even his seasoned bodyguards. This was why he was willing to pay a high price—he had trouble keeping employees.

  "No," I told Gubb after the meeting was over and Weir and his guards left Gubb's small office over the bar. "Absolutely not."

  "Ah, I see you have discerning taste," Gubb grinned. I wanted to punch him for it. "Perhaps the next will be more to your liking, then," he added.

  Zarbec of Paricos II was a simpering, conniving sphincter. I had no use for him; he only spoke of himself in the grandest of terms, as if his underlings didn't carry out every miraculous thing he ascribed to himself.

  "No," I hissed at Gubb once the meeting had concluded.

  Gubb's eyes widened; he'd been so sure of this one. He'd deliberately put Weir first, knowing the effect he'd have on anyone with more than one brain cell firing. He'd put his money on Zarbec as a much better alternative.

  "If the next is no better than the first two," I hissed a warning at Gubb. I didn't have my blades with me, but that didn't matter. I had my warlock skills, and I wanted nothing more than to send Gubb to the sea for a good dunking.

  Several good dunkings, actually.

  Gubb's mouth hung open and worked for several seconds before he could form words. "I—I could only arrange for a subordinate from Master Tamp," Gubb whispered. I realized then that Gubb's shirt was twisted in my hand and my eyes bored into his. He was outmatched and he knew it.

  "What subordinate? Who is Master Tamp?" I demanded.

  "Master Tamp keeps to himself and only goes out in disguise," Gubb warbled. "He specializes in treasure hunting. Sells things to—certain collectors. The subordinate—I didn't recognize the name when it was given to me."

  I released Gubb's shirt, then, and stepped back before nodding. "Bring him in. I'll speak to him."

  "I'll go get him. Now." I'd unsettled Gubb.

  Good.

  * * *

  Lew Velker

  He was Falchani trained. My eyes strayed to that particular line in his dossier as I studied him. Not Falchani, mind you, but anyone the Falchani agreed to train was formidable, or they wouldn't have agreed to the training.

  This is a warrior, my mind warned me.

  Subtle.

  Deadly.

  They all were who'd passed a Sursee's tests.

  I felt as if his dark eyes assessed me. Read in me that I was university-trained in antiquities.

  That I'd lost my credentials by obtaining artifacts by less than scrupulous means. I wanted to squirm under his gaze, but that would be unprofessional, besides allowing my insecurities to dictate my actions.

  Breathe, I reminded myself.

  Master Tamp wanted this one—to protect me on Alliance worlds while I searched for more of the spheres. I was now in charge of his treasure hunting operations, and he wanted the best security for me, since I had experience the others lacked.

  I'd been well-paid for what I'd I brought to him; in the past, I'd never seen him in person. He'd taken an interest in what I held this time—a great deal of interest. Enough that I'd actually met him, although I couldn't be sure whether the face he showed me was disguised or genuine.

  It didn't matter; I now had a steady, generous income and the ability to do what I did best—with guards at my back to protect me while I did it.

  * * *

  Ilya

  Lew Velker. I intended to research that name the moment our meeting was over. A criminal treasure hunter, no doubt, but there was culture in his voice, if not in his weathered face and unruly, sun-bleached hair.

  The name could be fake, I reminded myself. It broadened my search parameters, but that was of little consequence. It wouldn't be the first time a trained archaeologist had succumbed to the lure of treasure, ill-gotten or otherwise.

  "May I ask what it is you'll be searching for?" I queried.

  "Not until you are in Master Tamp's employ," Velker attempted to appear bored. He was anything but—his body language spoke volumes of how tense he actually was.

  "Then name your terms," I said, dipping my chin to show my interest.

  "Ah, uh, a quarter of a million credits per sun-turn, if the work is satisfactory," Velker stumbled over the word satisfactory. What he didn't say was that Master Tamp would order me killed—or attempt to do so, if the work was anything but satisfactory.

  "I was hoping for twice that," I countered. I knew what elite bodyguards were paid by their criminal bosses. Loyalty and ability came at a high price.

  "I am only authorized to offer up to four hundred thousand," he flinched under my hard gaze.

  "Then four hundred thousand will have to do," I snapped. "Until you recognize my worth, that is."

  So many emotions crossed his face, chief among them fear. He was afraid of me.

  Good.

  * * *

  Queen's Palace, L
e-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "How long before they learn your replacement for the Avii Castle is fake?" Gavin asked at breakfast. "You moved all the Black Wing guards with the real thing. Nobody is left, now, to pull idiots out of the water when they jump off a boat."

  "Crap." I rubbed my forehead. "I suppose I'll have to ask Justis to provide volunteers to stay at the fake."

  "You could send some of ours to stay there, in case anybody gets the idea to try to get in and do a kidnapping or two."

  "ASD or from our army?" I asked. Gavin was making sense; I just hated that I hadn't considered this to begin with.

  "How about both?" Gavin shrugged and reached for another biscuit.

  "My gosh, you're handsome when you're right," I said, studying his face and the line of his jaw.

  I watched as his mouth pulled into a slow smile. He buttered the biscuit as he considered a reply. "I wouldn't say no to a bit of fun before the council meeting," he said as if he were discussing the weather.

  "Honey, let me put in a call to Kooper, and then I'm all yours."

  "Exactly what I wanted to hear," he chuckled.

  * * *

  Avii Castle, Avendor

  Quin

  "Ardis is taking most of the Black Wing troops back to Le-Ath Veronis with him—to make the replacement castle Lissa put up appear authentic in every way," Justis informed me over lunch. "They're leaving this afternoon."

  "But what if they're attacked?" I breathed. Dena wouldn't like it if she and Ardis were parted—their baby was barely three moon-turns old.

  "The ASD and Queen Lissa are providing troops to help guard the castle. I hear that she's planning to give them a device that will make it appear as if they have wings when they stand on the terraces and such. Dena, ah, she elected to return with Ardis."

  "No," I began.

  "Quin, she gets to make her own decisions. It isn't an unreasonable request. Servants will be provided by Queen Lissa to look after all of them. The ASD and the Queen's troops will be well-armed. A few other wives are returning with their Black Wing mates, too. They understand the dangers, my love."

  His words unsettled me. How could he say they understood? They'd never been flung onto Vardil Cayetes' ships, or seen the death and destruction he was capable of dealing.