My attackers turned back to me, ready to yank out the rest of my feathers. It had already come to me, what they planned to do. Treven had designed this torture, after all, and called it the plucking. Such attacks were reserved for his enemies and those he found mildly annoying alike.
These never guessed that I knew who each of them were by employing the gift I had. When a third primary feather was ripped away while one of them moved to harm Dena, I screamed mentally for help.
Two came to my aid.
The Orb and an angry Larentii.
* * *
I'd crawled to Gurnil's body to heal him. He had a brain injury that could kill him or alter his mental abilities if I didn't.
Dena had been knocked down, but never lost consciousness. The Orb pulsed over my head, after flashing light so bright it had blinded all of us, then blasted power at the attackers, rendering them unconscious.
Daragar fussed with my wings while I tended to Gurnil. The pain I had from having my largest feathers jerked from my skin was soothed quickly while my healing light joined that pulsing from the Orb.
Gurnil blinked up at me after a few moments, and discovered Daragar and me bending over him.
That's when Justis arrived, with Jurris and several black-winged guards right behind. Justis cursed at the state of my bloody wings, three bloodied white primary feathers on the floor and seven masked and hooded bodies scattered across my bedroom.
Striding angrily toward the tallest, who'd harmed Master Gurnil, he pulled the mask away, revealing the Black-Winged guard who'd attempted to kill me when I first arrived.
Other masks were ripped away. I saw the seamstresses—both of them—from the day before. One of Halthea's yellow-winged maids was there. Two more black-winged guards were revealed, then Halthea herself. I heard Jurris' intake of breath, then.
"That one attacked me." Gurnil pointed at the tall, Black-Winged man.
"Master Gurnil would have died had Quin not attended to him," Daragar said. He'd stepped back to allow Justis room to unmask the attackers, and stood against a wall, blue arms crossed and a frown upon his lips.
"What is the meaning of this?" Jurris demanded.
"You won't find out until they wake," Justis snapped. "The Orb rendered them unconscious. You'd think that Ardis would have learned from his first encounter with the Orb."
"You may deal with the Black, Brown and Yellow Wings as you see fit, brother," Jurris nodded to Justis. "I'll handle Halthea."
With that, Jurris stepped toward Halthea's body, followed closely by two of his guards. "Lift her and fly her to my suite," Jurris commanded one of them.
All gasped as Halthea's robe fell back, revealing her wings. They were as yellow as those of her unconscious maid beside her.
* * *
"Where is that cursed Orb? I want her back as she was," Jurris shouted. Justis sat nearby as Jurris paced and fumed on his private terrace.
"This has happened twice before, brother, and the new colors were never reversed." Justis found the situation more than acceptable and quite humorous, but he kept that to himself. "The Orb passed judgment. Halthea planned that attack, for no reason that I can see. You know we have laws against it; you helped Camryn design those laws. As for your question, the Orb is still in the Library, hovering over Gurnil and the girl."
"It has never approached me as it did Elabeth and Camryn," Jurris grumbled.
"I have no answer for that," Justis shrugged. "What will you do with Halthea? The others are in the holding cells at ground level. Their cases will be heard by the Council, and unless I miss my guess, the Orb may attend those hearings. Whether they consider the girl at all in this, the fact remains that Gurnil could have died without her intervention."
"I cannot place her in a holding cell," Jurris snapped. "She needs help."
"She no longer has red wings. The Orb passed judgment already," Justis said as calmly as he could. He wanted to shout at his brother, pointing out that Halthea had broken the law.
"Leave me," Jurris waved his hand, dismissing Justis. "Halthea will remain in my suite tonight, and I will decide tomorrow, when the Council is convened."
Without a word, Justis rose and left his brother alone.
* * *
"I want to heal these, making their replacements grow, but this must be discussed by the Council," Daragar fingered the wounds on my wings.
Gurnil sat nearby, while Dena offered him a cup of tea. He accepted it gratefully and drank. Blood still spattered his sleeping robe—he hadn't bothered to change after the attack.
"I thank you for coming so swiftly, Master Gurnil," I said. "I'm sorry they attacked you as well."
"You healed my wound. I am more than grateful for that," he nodded to me.
"Gurnil? Are you well?" Ordin swept in, blinking at the artificial light inside the Library where we were. It was still an hour before dawn, after all.
"I am, thanks to Quin," Gurnil lifted his cup of tea. "Want some? Dena has more in the pot."
"I'll take it. Word came to me, but Jurris pulled me away to check Halthea first. There isn't a foundering thing I can do about a shift in wing color. The Orb made judgment against Halthea. She should have known better."
"They should have known better," Gurnil huffed before sipping his tea again. Dena placed a cup in my hands before moving to serve Ordin. "This won't sit well with some on the Council. You know why," his mouth tightened as he jerked his head in Ordin's direction.
"Prejudice is a difficult enemy to defeat," Ordin agreed. "Perhaps it is time to post a guard outside the Library entrance, my friend."
* * *
Ordin sent Gurnil, Dena and me to bed before he left, saying he'd send someone if we were required at the Council meeting. Daragar disappeared once he repaired my bedroom door and I shut it behind me. Leaning my back against the thick wood, I heaved a trembling sigh.
It was more than possible that the Avii would be divided over the night's events, and I wasn't looking forward to it. My lot wouldn't have mattered much, had Gurnil not been injured and Halthea not been changed by the Orb.
Gurnil and Ordin had danced around the truth and not asked me any questions. I couldn't tell them that I'd sent a mental call for help, bringing the Larentii and the Orb to my aid. Letting my wings down, I held the left one in my hand and studied the holes where primary feathers should be.
Somehow, those feathers had disappeared, and I had no idea who'd taken them. My wings draggling behind me, I walked toward my bed, climbed in and pulled up the covers, shivering beneath them while the weight of Siriaa settled on my shoulders.
* * *
"Master Ordin and Master Gurnil were called to the Council meeting," Dena said as she set the tray of food on the table beside my bed. "It's almost dinner hour, so I asked for something from Nina's kitchen."
"Have you eaten?" I asked, studying her. She looked pale to me, and her usually sunny smile had fled.
"At midday. I'll go during the regular mealtime and get something."
"Would they have taken all my feathers?" I mumbled, lifting a lid to find a bowl of brown beans, still warm from the pot.
"That's what happened before, when," Dena shrugged.
"I know about Treven," I replied, sliding off the bed. "Let's take this to the terrace. We can talk there, if you want."
"Nothing is written about him—not that most of us can get to, anyway," Dena said, following me as I carried the tray of food toward the terrace doors. "How did you find out?"
"By accident," I said. In a way that was true—I'd gone looking into Halthea's parentage, never expecting to find Jurris' father there. Even Halthea was unaware of who her real father was. Only Halthea's mother and Treven had known, until Halthea's foster-father learned of it during an argument with his wife.
"What do you think will happen in the Council meeting?" Dena asked when I settled on a bench on the terrace. The day was quite fine, still, in direct contrast with the darkness of my turbulent thoughts.
&nbs
p; "They will argue," I shrugged and lifted the bowl of beans. "What they cannot refute is the fact that Gurnil was attacked and could have died. Ardis may receive a worse sentence than the others."
"What about Halthea?" Dena's question was whispered, as if she were afraid of being overheard.
"This is what I think," I said. "Jurris will argue that she has already been punished enough. I imagine that she will remain inside his suite, where she was taken last night. The others will be punished in truth, with Ardis' being the worst for striking Master Gurnil."
"That's not fair. She probably ordered Ardis to help her. The others, too." Dena's wings rustled in the late afternoon air, emphasizing her outrage against the Princess. "She can't retain her title—she doesn't have red wings, now. The Orb saw to that."
"Jurris will have the final say," I mumbled around a mouthful of beans.
"There are no more Red-Winged females," Dena observed. "What will happen to us?"
"I don't know," I said and pulled my wings tight against my back.
* * *
"It's as if everyone in the castle is afraid to make any noise," Amlis said. "How is Deeds doing in the kitchen?"
"I hear he and Wolter are getting along very well," Rodrik replied.
"Good. I wonder, still, how Wolter knew to come to our aid," Amlis mused.
"Perhaps someone saw or heard something and reported it. You know how gossip goes."
"Yes, but gossip has diminished to an occasional trickle, rather than the raging flood it used to be."
"The times are ultimately more dangerous, my Prince."
"That is true," Amlis agreed. "Shall we take ourselves for a walk near the kitchens? I hear there might be bread and honey available if we ask."
"I'll get my blade," Rodrik replied.
* * *
The small opening in the rocks was barely wide enough to fit his body inside. Regardless, Fen hid there, hoping the armed men who searched for him would walk past.
Afraid to breathe, he huddled there, hoping to blend into the surrounding stones well enough that none might see. He'd carried Amlis' message for a day's ride before burying the thing. He knew well enough what it said, and it could cost him his life if the enemy found it on him.
If he made it to Vhrist, he could recite what was written well enough. He hoped Omina would accept his word, instead of handwritten proof. Boots crunched nearby, causing Fen to shrink farther into his makeshift cave.
* * *
"This was Finder's sleeping quarters?" Amlis looked about him while Wolter and Deeds poured wine. They'd settled inside Finder's old storeroom, packed as it was with dusty crates, books, broken furniture and things none had thought to call for in turns.
"On a mattress so thin it may as well have been the floor," Deeds passed out cups of wine.
"My fault," Wolter muttered. "I never thought to look into it. Always assumed she took care of things herself."
"Doesn't matter now," Rodrik gulped his wine. "The dead have no cares."
"That doesn't mean we can't care for the dead," Wolter muttered. "Because we do."
"Wolter, I have a question," Amlis said.
"I already know what it is, and I can't explain it any better than you."
* * *
"Quin? Quin?" Dena's voice betrayed her panic. I'd been lost for a few moments, misdirecting those who thought to attack Chen's brother.
No, I'd never met him, but knew he was in danger, nonetheless. The seven who thought to kill him had begun to search elsewhere by the time I was done with them. Breathing a sigh, I turned to Dena, who was frightened out of her wits.
"I'm all right. I was lost in thought and memory for a moment," I said, placing an unsteady hand on her arm. "I'll finish my meal here. Why don't you go to dinner? Surely it's time and you must be hungry."
"I am," she said.
"Then go. I'll be fine, here."
"If you're sure."
"I am." I wasn't, and might never be again after the events of the previous night, but I didn't want Dena to worry about me. I had enough worry for the both of us. Fyris was disintegrating, and High President Charkisul's safety looked to become a problem very soon. His opponents were plotting; I couldn't say how I knew that, I just did.
Dena flew away from the terrace, and I watched her bank with the winds rising about the castle, wishing I could do the same. What surprised me was that Ordin, Gurnil and Justis arrived shortly after Dena left. Ordin folded his wings and sat beside me on the bench while the other two stood nearby.
"We have some good news," Gurnil began. "Other news as well, some of it not nearly as good."
"What is that, Master Gurnil?" I asked, setting down my cup. It was nearly empty anyway, and my thirst was gone.
"Ardis will walk through the gate for his attack on Master Gurnil. The others will serve in the glassmaker's furnaces for six turns—two turns for each feather they pulled."
"Halthea will stay inside Jurris' quarters and wait on him as a Yellow Wing," Justis grumbled. He felt, just as I did, that her sentence was far too light. She'd cost Ardis his life.
"Then I wish to petition for Ardis' life," I said, standing.
"Quin, you have no standing here," Ordin said. "I wish it were otherwise, but that's the way things are. We are fortunate that the others were sentenced as they were for their misdeeds."
"Halthea should be the one walking through that gate," I snapped. "Or shoved through, just as her father was." Yes, it was a moment of misjudgment, but I couldn't recall the words, once I'd said them.
"What do you mean, just as her father was? He and her mother went through together."
"Treven was her father," I said. "Her foster father learned from her mother that he was not Halthea's father. He pushed her through first, then followed after. Treven was already dead, as you know."
"How in the name of Liron do you know that?" Justis exploded.
"I can't explain it. I just know it's true," I muttered, sitting down again and crossing arms over my chest defensively.
"That would explain much," Ordin muttered dryly.
"There's a way to find out," Gurnil offered. "I have feathers from both—Halthea and Treven."
"Are you suggesting?" Justis turned to Gurnil. "Never mind, I see that you are. Do it. I wish to know the results. Quin," he turned to me. "I have been ordered by my brother to watch over you carefully. Therefore, you will report to my quarters tomorrow, and take over the cleaning duties performed by the Yellow Wings every day. You may attend your studies after four hours of work, and run errands for me when I ask."
"Yes, Commander Justis." I inclined my head respectfully to him. My life was about to change. Again.
* * *
Fen didn't come out of his hiding place until after sundown. From then on, he would travel by night and hide by day until he reached Vhrist and the Queen. Things were more complicated than he ever imagined possible.
* * *
"There are books in my mother's library that describe such a thing, but it was never used to warn. Mother says Tandelis received the mind-messages from Elabeth whenever a visit was planned. He couldn't return a message, except by the usual means." Amlis shuffled books inside a leather bag he'd brought from Vhrist.
The bag was usually hidden in a special slot behind his heavy bed, and he and Rodrik had to work together to shove the huge frame aside in order to retrieve it.
"Why would a message come to Wolter instead of you?" Rodrik asked.
"I don't know. Damn. I don't have anything here that might explain it." Amlis shoved thin books and papers inside the bag with an agitated sigh. "It doesn't matter—Wolter arrived in time before Hirill could kill me. He says the voice warned him that he and I were in danger, and sent him to the stables to help."
"While you and the cook weren't connected before, you are now," Rodrik's voice and expression were wry.
"That's not true. Wolter handed Finder to me on the day I went looking for her. I can't believe how covered in soot a
nd filth she was."
"Finder is dead, need I remind you? That is the only connection you and Wolter had, until now."
"I'm glad Deeds offered to show Wolter how to handle a sword. We need as many allies as we can muster."
* * *
"It is time to make our way to Vhrist, my King." Yevil's smile was as false as his heart when he dipped his head in Tamblin's presence. "It will be wise to get our troops prepared for the voyage by making sorties on the warships already built."
"Worried that they won't have their sea legs?" Tamblin quirked an eyebrow at Yevil. "No matter." He waved a hand, dismissing any reply Yevil might make. "You're right—we can't just load them onto a ship and expect everything to go well immediately. Alert the commanders. I'll give the message to the Crown Prince myself."
"As you say," Yevil bowed and left the King's chambers.
* * *
"Do you have any questions?"
It was obvious that being Commander of the Avii troops, as well as the King's brother, afforded some luxury. Justis had a wide window in his bedroom, in addition to a private terrace, a receiving area and a personal library outside his sitting room.
"Not about cleaning or straightening," I said.
"What do you have questions about?" One of Justis' black eyebrows rose, but there was a faint twinkle in his eyes, telling me it was all right to ask about other things.
"What keeps Fyris hidden?" I asked.
"Of all the questions waiting to be asked, you offer me that one?" Justis turned away to stare through the window. The sill was low, offering an uninterrupted view of the sea beyond the castle. Somewhere across those waters and past the curve of Siriaa, lay Fyris.
I held my breath, hoping he wasn't angry. Instead, his wings drooped as his shoulders sagged. "You may as well know," he said. "It's a spell. Elabeth told me once that a powerful wizard was responsible. I can't imagine anyone holding that much power, but Fyris remains hidden. Elabeth wasn't tolerant of lies, so perhaps it is the truth."
"The spell was placed on the land itself?"
"No." Justis turned back to me, then. "It is said that the Prince of Fyris' ring holds that power within it. Another thing I find difficult to accept—how could a spell such as that be held in something so small? Elabeth said as long as the ring stayed within Fyris' boundaries, the spell would work. If the ring is taken away, Fyris will be revealed."
Finder: First Ordinance, Book One Page 20