The cord was still attached and the child was exercising his lungs when Master Ordin and two other healers came through the kitchen at a run. Everyone else had backed away from me the moment I'd taken the child, and a golden haze still surrounded the infant, the mother and me when Ordin knelt at my side.
"He would have died if I hadn't done it," I carefully placed the squalling babe in Ordin's hands. "I should go. I feel light-headed."
I did feel light-headed. Dizzy, too. Three steps I took toward the kitchen door when the blackness came. The last I remembered was the hands that caught me before I fell, and those hands were quite large and blue.
Chapter 9
"Mother and child are fine. Perfect. I couldn't have done a better job if I'd been standing over Raina, with a Kondari physician at my back." Ordin accepted a cup of tea from Dena. She'd followed him and the others after a litter had come for Raina and the baby.
"How did she do it?" Gurnil arrived after someone informed him that the Larentii had disappeared with Quin as soon as she'd performed what looked to be a miracle.
"Master Gurnil, I saw it," Dena breathed. "I think she put her hands right through Raina's belly and came out with the child, but Raina didn't have a mark on her afterward, and the cord was coming from the proper place, too, if you understand," Dena's comment was nodded away by Ordin.
"Master Cook Barth says the same, and he didn't want it to be that way. He still wants to find fault with the girl, where there's no fault to be found. Is that correct, Dena?" Ordin turned his eyes toward the girl, who blushed.
"Yes, Master Ordin. She never does anything wrong, but they all insult her anyway, and Jadin hits her when Master Barth isn't looking. Worst of all, Barth never offers her food. I think she doesn't eat until she leaves the kitchen."
"That would explain the fainting," Gurnil stood angrily. "I'll go straight to Master Nina myself. Barth should have a few stripes for that alone."
"My question is this—where is the girl now? That's a powerful healer, and we haven't had one of those in centuries," Ordin snorted. "Where in Liron's countryside do you think the Larentii took her?"
* * *
Disorientation clouded my mind when I awoke, so I blinked several times, trying to bring what I thought to be dream remnants into focus. "It is not a dream, Quin. This is something you should have seen when you arrived. These never think of it, it being commonplace to them," Daragar's voice came.
I was lying in his arms when I awoke and looked out upon a huge glass bowl with meadows, gardens and flocks in the center. Daragar stood upon a glass spire that rose high in the air, and I had no idea how he managed to balance himself and hold me at the same moment.
"This castle is twice as large as Lironis," Daragar informed me as I stared at sheep and cattle grazing below us. The green of the meadows made me want to weep it was so beautiful, with fruit trees growing in neat rows in the distance. This was what Fyris should be, and wasn't. The bowl was so large I couldn't see the far edge of it, and all of it was glass.
"It takes a day to ride across Lironis," I whispered.
"Yes. If you travel by horse, it does. Now, young one, we will find something for you to eat." I looked into Daragar's eyes; they were bright and shining and kind.
"Thank you for catching me," I lowered my eyes, embarrassed.
"I would not have forgiven myself if I hadn't."
* * *
"What have we here?" Daragar and I had disappeared from our high vantage point and reappeared inside a kitchen I did not recognize. A woman with blonde hair piled atop her head stared at me, her fists settled squarely on ample hips.
"The one who saved your daughter and her child," Daragar put me down. I wavered, but his hands held me up gently. "She has not received a meal from Master Cook Barth since she began working for him a moon-turn ago."
"This is the half-blood," the woman sighed as she looked me up and down. "Doubtless a babe when it happened, and blameless in it as well. Barth will know my fury. Soon. After I feed this one, here. Girl, sit before you fall, and I'll make something for you."
"She does not eat meat," Daragar explained for me.
"All the better. I have beans and lentils, and some greens ready."
I received a bowl of food quickly and set about eating as swiftly as I could without appearing rude. "I am Master Cook Nina, Master of the Cook's Guild and cook for the Royal family and the Council, most of whom are real asses," Nina handed a chunk of bread to me. I dipped it immediately in my beans and lentils to soak up some of the broth. It was delicious. Likely, her cooking skills had made Nina Guild Master for the cooks and kitchen helpers.
"Ordin says my grandchild might have died," Nina settled onto a seat across from me. We both sat at a prep table on high stools while I ate and Nina watched.
"The placenta separated suddenly and the child was deprived of oxygen. If my little one here hadn't taken the child quickly, he would have died. As it is, the child is perfectly healthy. Ordin is correct on that matter," Daragar confirmed.
"I've never known you or any other Larentii to say more than two words before," Nina handed Daragar a speculative look.
"I speak when it is necessary," Daragar said.
"I see that. Well, girl, would you like dessert? I think I have some cobbler left over from lunch."
My spoon dropped into the bowl and I stared at Master Cook Nina, dumbfounded. None had ever offered dessert to me before—not even Wolter. Leftover pies and cakes were always given to the lesser nobles before any of the servants, and even then, only the highly placed ones could hope for sweets to come their way.
"She's never had any," Daragar said quietly as I continued to stare at Nina.
"You'll have some today," Nina declared and went to get another bowl. Not only did I have peach cobbler for the first time in my life, but a glass of chilled milk to go with it. I could have wept at the taste of both; they were so good together. Every scrap that Nina gave me was eaten quickly and with a great deal of happy satisfaction.
"You could have sent word," Ordin and Gurnil walked into Nina's kitchen together.
"The girl hasn't eaten properly since she arrived. I'll be banging Barth's head with a skillet, rest assured," Nina declared, hands on hips again and a nasty glint in her eyes. I shrunk back the moment Ordin walked in—I feared that he might be angry, since I'd acted as I had. Daragar was correct—I knew the child would die if something weren't done, so I did it. I was prepared to take a beating for it, too.
"Master Ordin is not angry with you, Quin," Daragar placed a hand on my head for just a moment, his blue eyes meeting mine. "I must go." He disappeared, as he always did.
"First the Orb and now a Larentii," Gurnil muttered at my back.
* * *
"She's a half-blood and has no wing color. How can we place her in the Healer's Guild?" Justis watched with hooded eyes as Ordin stood before the Red Wing King. He'd argued his case to allow Quin to work with the healers. Jurris was against it and was now voicing his opinion on the matter.
Justis held no doubts as to where that opinion originated—Halthea stood at Jurris' side, just as she often did in Council meetings. Jurris turned to her often, asking her opinion. Simpering always, Halthea never failed to give it.
Jurris' two other wives seldom appeared at Council meetings, although they were welcome as Jurris' mates. Jurris never listened to Green-Winged Wimla or Brown-Winged Vorina as much as he did his Red-Winged princess. Yes, a Red Wing Queen would have as much say as the Red Wing King, and Justis knew that Jurris desired Halthea on the throne at his side. Elabeth had voiced her distaste for the girl many times in Justis' hearing, and flatly refused to name Halthea heir.
Justis thought the matter settled when little Lirin was born, but the child died when Camryn and Elabeth were murdered. Now, Ordin and Gurnil argued for the girl, the others against. He frowned when Nina spoke. No, Nina hadn't said anything against the girl, other than she was half-blood and didn't have wings, but that fell rig
ht into Brown Wing Farisa's opinion that no half-blood could be anything other than a lowly servant.
The fact that Farisa had never seen the girl had Justis narrowing his eyes while she argued loudly and gestured wildly. Gray Wing Gordin agreed with Farisa, his voluble dissent likely heard by yellow-winged servants several halls away. Jurris expected his brother to vote his way, but Justis disliked what the detractors were saying.
There were four votes against Quin already, so his would count for nothing. Justis' argument would only anger his brother, who might consider going around him at last and placing Halthea on the Queen's throne against Justis' objections. Jurris and Justis shared the same mother, with different fathers. Justis' father, a Black Wing like himself, had always advised Justis to select his battles with a wise head and a stern heart.
"What say you, Commander?" Jurris had come to him when the other arguments looked to die down somewhat.
"My vote is with my brother," Justis replied, standing and stretching his ebon wings. It was his way of telling all present that the debate had gone on long enough. Enough votes had been cast to keep the girl serving in the kitchens already. She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but she had no feathers and the lengthy, bare nubs were unattractive. Justis' wingspan was longer than three tall men, standing head to heel. Jurris' Red Wings were six hands shorter than his brother's, but they were Red.
Ordin was angry enough as he stalked past Justis, but Gurnil bristled and rustled his wings as he walked past. Justis sighed—he'd have to smooth feathers somehow, and Green and Blue had often been his allies in the past. He'd let them down in order to fight a more personal battle. "Thank you, Justis," Halthea had come up silently as Justis watched Gurnil walk away. Trailing a finger down his chest, Halthea offered a vapid smile.
"Lady," Justis dipped his head respectfully and strode toward the arched doorway, leaving Halthea staring angrily at his back.
* * *
"I can't believe Nina would do this. Justis, too. I was counting on both votes, and they abandon us. That girl can likely heal almost anything, and they do this." Ordin paced on Gurnil's private terrace. Outside terraces were reserved for royalty and Guild Masters.
"As it is, if we can't deal with something, we have to carry the patient to Kondar for treatment, and that means another shipment of glass bowls and vases. Farisa should have thought of that before she laid out her sermon. We barely make enough from our imports now to run Avii castle. We can't afford to give our work away to heal anything beyond our abilities, not to mention the problems we're having with any childbirth and the reasons there are no pregnancies to begin with."
"I know," Gurnil held up a hand. "We both know that once Jurris cut off all contact with Fyris after the murders, that our trade with them was cut off as well. Kondar has grown and evolved, Fyris hasn't. Perhaps he should have sought another way around this and backed someone in Fyris who could take the throne and bring the murderers to justice."
"That would have been the prudent thing to do," Ordin agreed. "But Jurris was named heir to Camryn, therefore he rules. Then, just as it was today, the Council majority ruled in his favor."
"And the girl goes back to the kitchens," Gurnil muttered.
"May I join you?" Justis flapped in, landing perfectly beside Ordin who froze in mid-pace. "Here," Justis held out a bottle of wine. "You're not looking at the broader picture here," Justis smiled at Ordin and Gurnil. "Let the girl work the kitchens and send for her if you need her. Barth owes me, anyway. I'll advise him to let the girl go if she's needed."
"So, it's all right to just trample her underfoot until we want something, is that it?" Gurnil stood as Justis' smile faded. "How long do we mistreat a race, Justis, until we become our enemies?" Gurnil nodded to Ordin and walked toward the glass-paned doors leading into Ordin's private suite.
"I have to admit that I have no appetite for it myself. Good night, Commander." Ordin followed the path Gurnil had taken, leaving Justis standing amid Ordin's flower garden on his private terrace.
* * *
They'd discussed me during the Council meeting—I knew it without doubt. I also knew how the vote had gone and didn't expect it to be otherwise. It was just as well—why should I have any lofty ambitions? A kitchen drudge had been the extent of my life, a few moon-turns as Amlis' page notwithstanding. He'd been no different, taking what I'd offered him and still treating me as the common servant I was.
Dena, though, I worried for her. She watched the Black Wings covertly, as if she wished for that life. Born as a Yellow Wing in a strict, hierarchical system, she had no hope of attaining that dream. Fyris was the same—if you were born a servant, you died a servant. There was little in the way of bettering oneself. Business owners tended to birth more business owners, while nobles tediously birthed more of the same.
* * *
"Quin, we'll have Kondari visitors tomorrow," Gurnil informed me the following evening. "They pay a fee to search our books for ancient history. The money is useful to buy what we can't make ourselves. They'll eat in the Guild dining hall. Two Yellow Wings will come in the morning to clean their assigned quarters and provide fresh linens. Generally they are more respectful than some of ours." I watched Gurnil's eyes carefully as he explained things to me.
"What do they look like?" I asked, curious.
"Much like we do, only without wings or nubs," Gurnil smiled at my question. "Kondari have a different language, but those coming tomorrow speak enough of ours to get by. And Ordin wishes you to come to him sometime in the next week; he noticed that your nubs are thrice as long now as they were when you first arrived."
"They're growing more?" I was dismayed. Jadin still muttered naked wing at my back every day. He still hit me with a wooden spoon, too, when Barth wasn't looking.
"You don't have a hand mirror, do you?" Gurnil frowned. "Let me find one for you. Keep it on your dresser, to see for yourself."
"Glass is a luxury only the wealthy can afford in Fyris," I muttered. Gurnil had walked away a few steps but turned back at my words.
"How are they doing? Those in Fyris, I mean," he asked.
"They're dying. Just like their land," I sighed.
* * *
"What is this?" Amlis accepted the tattered message from Rodrik, who'd received it earlier from Garth in the stables.
"A conscript brought it from Vhrist," Rodrik replied. "The brown seal is still intact, no matter how bad it looks."
A brown seal meant the letter had been dictated by one and written by another, who sold their services to do so. If the sender couldn't write or had no wish to write it himself, he often paid someone else to do it and a brown wax seal with a courier's stamp was set afterward.
"Addressed to me?" Amlis accepted the message that looked to have been carried inside a filthy saddlebag.
"To the Prince Heir, Amlis of Lironis," Rodrik said.
"Fine. Open it and read it," Amlis ordered. Rodrik broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
My Prince, the message began. It is with much sorrow and regret that I deliver this news to you, and had I known who it was we carried, I would never have agreed to accept payment to sail my ship to Aviia. She was brought to me unconscious and bound, her head covered by a bag. The bag was not removed until we had nearly reached the glass fortress. Only then did I learn it was your Finder that the bitch from Firith paid six men to kidnap, and it broke my heart to deliver her to those who would only take her life. I will not sign my name, as I know what my fate will be should I do so. I promised the girl that I would inform you as to what happened to her. My sincerest apologies to you, my Lord, for my mistakes.
The message was unsigned. Amlis rose and cursed, before flinging much of what sat upon his desk across the study.
"Why do you think Mother would send me this," Amlis rattled the message he'd gotten from Omina a week earlier, "rather than the real one?" Rodrik had gotten Amlis calmed after a while. A good bottle of wine helped.
"I have no idea why she would
say that Finder was still under Farin's care, rather than hauled off to the Avii. If I didn't have confirmation on Mirisa's accidental death from one of her father's own men, I'd doubt that, too," Rodrik shook his head. "Something is going on and we have no way to discover what it is," Amlis muttered angrily. "How could she do this? How?"
"Amlis, she was quite overcome with your brother's death. You know this. And she worries that you might fall to an assassin's hand as well. Garth is watching Yevil as well as he can, as is Hirill, but Yevil is playing the solicitous friend to your father right now."
"Father has barely spoken six words to me since I arrived, Rodrik. And he has been approaching Lady Dimita, if my eyes do not deceive."
"Amlis, I have seen few pregnancies lately, and even fewer brought to term. Do not fret about your father replacing you. At this moment, he should worry about what stands at his elbow most days. Besides, he is still married to your mother. To claim a legitimate heir, he must put her away from him, and you know what she might do if he suggests that."
"And that could mean my mother's life is in danger, just as mine is," Amlis sighed and poured another cup of wine. "With her death, he is free to marry again."
"A frightening thought," Rodrik agreed.
* * *
"Quin, see me in my aerie when you are finished with your duties tomorrow," Master Healer Ordin had come to me after I'd put off going to him. I nodded to him and lifted another tray to take to the Black Wings waiting in the dining room. Ordin gave me a tight smile, frowned at Master Cook Barth and went on his way.
The Kondari had come, just as Gurnil said they would, and they would go through the stacks in the massive Library until time for bed. For four days, I'd carried trays of food and drink to them as they pored over books well into the night. Gurnil looked at them oddly when they spoke quickly about this or that paragraph in a book, not understanding completely what was being said.
Finder: First Ordinance, Book One Page 12