WhiteWing

by Connie Suttle

  "Then who else should we send?" I asked as pleasantly as I could. "We have four. We can send up to six."

  "Don't be too quick to fill the roster," Charles warned. "If more are needed, we can always add them in."

  "Ilya will be pissed about Zaria," I sighed.

  "To use your own words, Ilya can suck it up."

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Ilya

  They'll meet you at Gubb's tavern, Ry informed me. We're sending four now. If you need more or have a specific request, let me know.

  I will. Thank you. Which Falchani are you sending?

  Flyer and Turtle.

  Good. When will they arrive?

  Tomorrow morning. I hope you can arrange for transport.

  I'll make sure of it. Chief of Security Darkins and two guards intend to come with me.

  Making sure of your hires?

  Something like that.

  Then don't reject any of them, Ry warned. That's a command.

  As you will it, my King.

  * * *

  BlackWing VII

  Zaria

  "This makes my heart hurt," I muttered, flinging clothing into a trunk. Edden Charkisul sat on the end of my bunk, watching my near-tantrum with a calm expression. "I know it makes sense to let me see this pod'l-morph and figure out what he's up to, but the—other part of this is upsetting."

  "Dearest, don't trouble yourself," Edden said. He didn't point it out, but I could have easily packed using power, it was merely more satisfying to expend the physical energy. "Bleek will be with you, at least."

  He expected Ilya to reject me, just as much as I expected Ilya to reject me. Bleek would be waiting to smooth metaphorical ruffled feathers. At least I'd be the first Larentii to step inside Tamp's compound. Nefrigar had already asked me to transmit images and information to him for the Archives. Valegar offered to drop in, too, while keeping his presence shielded.

  "Have you prepared a dossier for Tamp's security team?" Edden continued when I didn't say anything.

  "Yes. Lissa says to list my talent as a Third-level Karathian witch. Not powerful enough for Tamp to get his underwear in a twist over. Ilya says Tamp has five Fifth-levels working for him, but they keep to themselves and are housed higher up."

  "You think bringing in a Third-level will coax the Fifth-levels out of hiding? Just to make their own assessments?" Edden's assumption was correct. The man truly was a diplomat of the highest order.

  "Yes. I hope they're not bullies."

  "If Tamp can't keep order in his own house, then he isn't much of a leader or a boss, even by Paricos II's standards."

  "Agreed, but even a pod'l-morph can't be in all places at once."

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Ilya

  After leaving the hover-chopper behind and guarded by Darkins' guards and pilots, the Chief and I made our way to Gubb's bar. I still wanted to grasp Gubb's throat and squeeze, but that would have to wait—by necessity.

  At least the streets were paved and clean enough—even in the worst areas. The bosses saw to that. I'd seen few begging; I had the idea they didn't last long on Paricos II. I wondered at times why the bay wasn't full of floating bodies, but decided early on that investigating murder among thieves and murderers could be a hopelessly recurring task and wasn't included in my mission.

  "You know these and trust them?" Darkins asked as we made our last turn to reach Gubb's.

  "I do." I knew two of them, at least, and imagined that King Rylend wouldn't send someone I wasn't familiar with.

  "Tamp gave me authority to pass off on them," Darkins said.

  "Good enough," I shrugged. "They can help me set up the forge if they meet your requirements."

  Gubb's place was close enough to the water that a thin mist and fog hung about as I pushed the door open ahead of Darkins. It may have been the hardest thing I've ever done to force my feet not to falter as I walked toward the table where my apprentices waited.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Zaria

  Bleek had a beer in one hand, both upper arms spread across the back of the bench and the fourth was occupied with drumming his fingers on the thick, wood-planked table. He looked as comfortable in this land of murder and malevolence as anyone could.

  I took up the corner next to the wall, wedged between it and the back of the bench so I could see everyone coming and going. Turtle and Flyer sat opposite us, each nursing a beer they swore was Refizani in origin.

  I wasn't surprised—Paricos II was known for its piracy. When Ilya walked in, followed closely by another man, I forced myself to breathe, although it wasn't normal breathing by anyone's definition.

  I almost forgot to read the man with him, my reaction to Ilya's nearness was so consuming. Yes, I was much surprised to see an honorable man working for a boss on Paricos II.

  Stranger things have happened, I reminded myself. I didn't miss the thin, hard line of Ilya's mouth, or the refusal to show emotion. The Falchani had taught him well.

  "You found Falchani," Chief of Security Darkins breathed the moment he caught sight of Turtle and Flyer. "Tamp will be very pleased."

  * * *

  Ilya

  Darkins didn't seem to care that I had a Blevakian and an apparent Third-level witch as apprentices; he was fascinated by the two Falchani who'd come. It became obvious that a Falchani had never been to Paricos II before.

  I wondered what Darkins would do if he knew Zaria was also Larentii, but squashed that thought immediately.

  Zaria, though, kept her emotions hidden behind a mask as I introduced her to Darkins. The entire interview, if it could be called such, was mostly directed toward Turtle and Flyer and their exploits on Falchan.

  It amused me that they had plenty of stories to tell. I was grateful, too, that Darkins didn't seem to question my hiring of any of them. "Where are your bags and trunks?" Darkins asked eventually, indicating that he was ready to leave and that all had passed his evaluation.

  "At the inn two doors down," Turtle replied. Zaria was happy to have Turtle and Flyer answering questions; I imagined she wanted to strip off a layer of my skin with caustic remarks.

  "Lady witch, do you imagine your power strong enough to bring the bags and trunks to the hover-chopper, once we arrive at its berth?" Darkins turned to Zaria.

  "Of course. My power is sufficient for that."

  "What do you suppose you'll be doing for our Bladesmith, here?" Darkins rose and stretched.

  "I'm talented at keeping a forge at the proper temperature; that will be needed as the location is open to the mist and weather," she shrugged, as if she'd done that very thing before.

  "I see. I hadn't considered that," Darkins admitted. "Shall we? I imagine Blade, here, is anxious to get started."

  Yes, I'd employed an alias for my stint on Paricos II. A slight frown tugged at a corner of Zaria's mouth, but she didn't say anything. How was I going to get through this? Being stabbed in the heart would have been preferable.

  Darkins led the way out of Gubb's bar after tossing money on the table. I followed behind. I also didn't fail to notice the flash of anger from Bleek as he placed himself between Zaria and me for our trek to the hover-chopper.

  * * *

  Zaria

  I employed what would be a Third-level's power to bring our things to the hover-chopper, and even managed to place everything inside the chopper under Darkins' watchful eye. He was testing me, now, although his questioning had been brief.

  He wasn't expecting much from a Third-level, that was easy to see. It made me wonder about the five Fifth-levels Tamp had working for him. Darkins would have looked suspiciously at anyone with power; I could easily see the distrust in him.

  It made me all the more eager to meet the warlocks, the treasure hunter and the pod'l-morph. The sooner we sorted everything out about them, the faster we could leave this place. Ilya could stay if he wanted; I'd found little that was redeemable on Paricos II.


  I'd already read Gubb. He should change his name to Grasping, he was so greedy and self-centered. Turtle and Flyer had complimented him on the Refizani beer he served. Gubb puffed out like a proud bird and smiled as he served a second round.

  I could see what he'd done to Ilya, too; I imagined that Ilya wanted to kill Gubb for it, although I hadn't tried to read him yet.

  That was pain waiting for me and I wanted to put it off as long as I could.

  Stop worrying. Bleek patted one of my hands when the hover-chopper lifted from the pad and made a wide, banking turn to take us to Tamp's compound.

  Bleek seldom used mindspeech, so his mental voice made me jump. I was grateful Darkins sat at the front with the pilot so he didn't see my unease; he'd have questioned that, too.

  I couldn't help thinking that the long trip in the hover-chopper could have been avoided; most Third-levels could have easily transported everyone. Next time, I promised myself, after realizing that Darkins wouldn't expect anyone to read the location of Tamp's hollowed-out rock, just by staring at him for a moment.

  I was used to being around those who not only knew about that talent, but were comfortable with it. Here, I'd have to hide almost everything about me. I found it confining, after months of freedom among the Larentii and a few others.

  There was something else I knew, too. Darkins intended to ask Flyer and Turtle for blade-fighting lessons.

  I wanted to laugh at the prospect; any Falchani would force a student to learn how to care for a blade, first. Darkins probably wouldn't like that.

  What kind of space will you have for the forge? Turtle pointed his mindspeech at Ilya, but included everyone in the question.

  It's a cave below the lowest level of quarters for employees, mine included, Ilya admitted. It is plumbed and such, but little else. Equipment and supplies will be brought in, including a quantity of good iron ore.

  Is the space large enough? Flyer asked.

  More than large enough. We could run two forges if we wanted. I'd prefer not to do that. It's cooler where we're going; that's fortunate in some ways as we'll be depending on the sea mist and outside temperatures to cool us while we're working the forge. It would be foolish to attempt to provide air conditioning.

  Ilya said what I'd already guessed—nature would have to cool the workers down; the forge would remain hot.

  That was my job—to keep it that way. I'd already volunteered, when I answered Darkins' question.

  * * *

  BlackWing VII

  Quin

  Kay arrived before dinner on the same day that Zaria left before breakfast. I wasn't surprised to see that two had come to help guard her. She held power of her own, but the Mighty Hand was more than solicitous regarding her safety.

  Franklin and Trace introduced themselves when they arrived with Kay. Franklin called himself a healer; Trace, Trajan's younger brother, said he was third-in-command at SouthStar.

  Kay was comfortable with both, I could see that easily, although she shied away from conversations with most men. There was a story—and a good amount of pain behind that behavior, but I couldn't read her to see what it could be.

  It left me mildly curious, but if I were destined to know the reason, it would come. There was no sense fretting about it; we had work to do.

  "It'll take two more days to reach our next destination," Sal announced at dinner. "Quin, if you'd like to spar in the morning, I'd be more than happy to see you in the dojo."

  "I'd like that," I said. "Jana, too, I think."

  Jana nodded with enthusiasm; I imagined she'd be bored, otherwise. I could see Jana had a desire to leave with Zaria and Bleek, although she understood that she had nothing to offer in blade-making.

  Perhaps if two more were needed, Jana could go as a beginning apprentice. Zaria, on the other hand, had been hoping for a short period of time on Paricos II.

  For her sake and mine, I hoped that were true. I missed her already, and she hadn't been gone a full day.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Ilya

  I had to ask questions; Zaria refused to speak with me otherwise. Her quarters, as well as Bleek's and the Falchani's, weren't far from mine. I'd worried that Darkins would separate us, but he hadn't bothered.

  Is it safe to talk here? I asked as she and the others stood inside my suite of rooms.

  I'd checked for power and for listening devices, but still I worried that something could be overheard.

  "Yes," Zaria sighed. She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe how she—we—had been tossed together in this.

  "What did you see in Darkins?" I demanded. My words sounded harsher than I'd intended. She turned away from me, then. I couldn't say I blamed her.

  "He doesn't know what Velker or Master Tamp are hunting," Zaria said. "He knows nothing of anyone fitting Cayetes' description arriving to set up shop here on Paricos II."

  "Do you think that it has been Tamp all along?" Flyer asked.

  "I won't know until I see him," Zaria replied. I could see the tension in her shoulders as she crossed arms over her chest. Her back was still toward me, but I knew these things about her, even after so many centuries had passed.

  "The one I really need to see, I think," Zaria added, "Is the treasure hunter—Velker."

  "Oh, you'll likely see him soon enough," I said. "He can't help himself, and blathers on about anything and everything, chief among them his safety."

  "Except," she pointed out shrewdly, "He hasn't told you what he's hunting."

  She was right. He hadn't said.

  "There's something else," Zaria said.

  "What's that?"

  "Darkins' security detail is going through all our things," she said. "Before they get to our rooms."

  "It's to be expected," I began.

  "But he's asking one of the warlocks to place spells on everything," she snapped and whirled to lock eyes with mine. "Your things are fine. Why are they going through ours?"

  * * *

  Zaria

  It angered me that a warlock of any kind had handled my things. None of them had been spelled and I certainly hadn't brought any weapons with me.

  Can you dampen those spells, if they're dangerous? Bleek's mindspeech held concern.

  Yes, and they'll never know it was done, I responded. Too bad they wouldn't know; I'd like to see warlocks sweat about what a Larentii might do to them, if they intended harm to me or mine.

  Bleek and both Falchani had brought blades with them—none of them spelled, just in case they were inspected. I had no idea what sort of mayhem would occur, should Flyer's and Turtle's Grey House blades be discovered by curious warlocks.

  I wondered if the blades would be taken away, but all that had been declared when I pulled the trunks and bags to the hover-chopper. Darkins hadn't said anything about those weapons; he'd asked about pistols, instead.

  We had nothing like that.

  Darkins hadn't recognized Bleek, either. If he'd been trolling the assassins' sites, he would have. Bleek and Quin's rewards were the largest being offered.

  It gave me hope that Tamp wasn't familiar with the price on Bleek's head, too. It reinforced the idea I had that Tamp didn't do business with Cayetes.

  My love, Bleek said then, Please tell me you have a way to locate me if I am taken away.

  I do. Your DNA is written on my heart, I told him. Were a Sirenali standing beside you, I would still know where you were. Barc, too, if he is ever in danger.

  His dark eyes turned soft as he blinked at me. He loved his son more than anything. I would die for either of you—and for Quin, he stated.

  I know, I replied. I hope it doesn't come to that.

  Amusement lit his eyes, then. The Blevakian had a wicked sense of humor, and it was making its presence known more and more as the years he'd spent working under Cayetes' thumb wore away.

  Ilya cleared his throat, then, to regain our attention. "We'll spend the afternoon in the cave, working out schematics
. We'll have lunch, first. Follow me; we eat in the regular mess."

  * * *

  Tamp couldn't be accused of racism; he had all sorts in his employ. It took a great many people to keep his operation running smoothly; from housekeepers to techs to security.

  I noticed that only low-level employees ate in the regular mess, which was located three levels above our suites. Ilya still didn't know where those higher on the food chain ate, but I saw it in several cook's assistants, who worked there but were forced to eat with the rest of us.

  The others eat on the fourth level from the top, I informed the others. Food here was served army-style, with a tray and a long line.

  "This soup is terrible," Flyer muttered. He'd know—he reportedly made the best noodles on Falchan. Turtle agreed with him; he was no slouch at cooking, having owned a bar on Falchan for more than a century.

  "So cooking isn't the cook's strong suit?" I lifted an eyebrow at Flyer, who offered a grin.

  "It looks that way," Turtle pushed his bowl of soup aside and attacked the meat on his plate. "I hope the ones upstairs are getting something better than this."

  "How difficult would it be to do our own cooking?" I asked. Ilya's eyes were on his plate; therefore, my question surprised him and he glanced up to meet my gaze.

  "It wouldn't be difficult," Flyer insisted. "Get me a few pots and pans—we'll already have a fire. The only thing left is getting supplies."

  "I'll ask Darkins," Ilya said and went back to his plate of food.

  * * *

  Darkins didn't care that we wanted to cook for ourselves; he shrugged and told Ilya to make a list of necessities. Equipment was already arriving on the second day; Ilya barked orders on where he wanted everything and the rest of us went about making it happen.

  Several times I employed power to move something heavy and position it correctly. Slowly, Ilya's forge was taking shape. We expected the iron ore to arrive last, when everything else was in place.

  "I didn't expect this," I studied the stove we'd been sent. It was huge, had ten burners and two ovens. It was any cook's dream, provided they had room for the behemoth. Shelving, pots, pans, a fridge, freezer and food supplies were also brought, in addition to a grocery list of meats and vegetables to last us an eight-day.