WhiteWing

by Connie Suttle

"You should have come to the meeting earlier," he said, wrapping his arms about me from behind and settling his chin on my shoulder. "The glassmakers wish to sell what they make, as they usually do. For now, those sales are suspended, since everyone believes the Avii perished on Le-Ath Veronis. They also need more sand; there isn't enough silica sand surrounding the castle here to fill their needs. The metalworkers, too, don't have a ready supply of iron ore available."

  "So those two factions are fueling the desire to return to Le-Ath Veronis?" I asked.

  "Among them, yes. I promised I would visit their workshops this afternoon. I'd like you to be with me. I need my best advisor by my side, to tell me what their true motives are."

  I wanted to shrink away from that veiled command. Their distrust of my white wings would be paramount in their gazes and I was ill-prepared for such. "You can't hide from them forever, love," Justis said gently. "Come, we will have lunch together, and visit the workshops at the far end of the bowl afterward."

  * * *

  My stomach threatened to turn on me as Justis and I walked into the metalworkers' massive shop. Yes, they'd upgraded their equipment and their furnace after their arrival on Le-Ath Veronis.

  I understood their desire to be nearer to the latest technology and sufficient supplies. All I could see when I considered a return to Le-Ath Veronis was Dena dying with little Dara in her arms.

  She'd shortened Daragar's name and gave it to her child. Daragar had smiled broadly when he heard of it.

  Now both were dead, and Ardis with them.

  "My King," Farisa greeted Justis. Her mouth clenched shut when she gazed at me.

  I knew Lissa had placed compulsion for her not to harm me with words or deeds. Therefore, she couldn't give me her greeting gloved in an insult as she wished to do.

  I read it in her anyway.

  She hated me. She hated my white wings. She hated that I stood beside Justis instead of any other, but she especially wanted Wimla, young Liron's mother, at Justis' side. Farisa was sure that if given time, Wimla would produce a red-winged heir—if Liron didn't bear red wings.

  As it was, Wimla still brought honor to the Brown Wings, as a former King's mate and mother to his child.

  Liron would not bear red wings—I knew that already. Justis merely frowned at Farisa's apparent refusal to greet me and followed her into the shop. It was perched on the highest level at the opposite end of the bowl from the library and King's quarters.

  Huge smokestacks constructed of the impervious glass that made up the castle interrupted the top of the bowl above the workshop, although the massive chimneys no longer emitted dark, polluting clouds. Filters on the furnace prevented anything other than heat escaping—another thing living on Le-Ath Veronis had afforded us.

  It was understandable that they wanted to go back. I had no argument on that quarter. I wanted to stay on Avendor—at least until my child was born.

  I worried that the Brown Wings wanted to break from the rest of us. Many of the others were satisfied with Avendor. They could fly wherever they wanted without worry. They'd made friends with some of the residents.

  New fears were holding me back.

  How could they not?

  I didn't have answers for the new problems that Justis faced—the potential for a breaking away of factions from the Avii.

  They'd always lived and worked together. The castle protected them from harm. I knew it was my fault so many had died. They'd moved the castle because Vardil Cayetes hunted a winged woman.

  If this castle had been left on Le-Ath Veronis, I imagined it would have withstood the weapon leveled against it. Perhaps it would have enabled us to kill V'ili instead, when his weapon held no power against Liron's creation.

  That stopped me for a moment.

  Liron created this behemoth. He'd also created the saving spheres—and others that were capable of holding powerful beings.

  Something teased my mind about all of it, but eluded me the moment Farisa began her whining that they were running out of iron ore and silica sand.

  * * *

  Vardil Cayetes' Private Quarters

  V'ili

  "I have a demand here," Vardil waved his comp-vid at Hulce. "From your former king. He wants you back. Not only that, he's calling me a—let's see," Vardil turned the comp-vid around to read Devarr's private message, "An excrement-covered piece of reptagator bait."

  "He is not my former king," Hulce muttered. "He is still my king."

  "Except that by your own admission, you were going against his commands and selling your devices to others."

  I'd placed an obsession on Hulce, who hadn't wanted to cooperate at first. He was more than cooperative, now.

  "I've never heard of Devarr reacting so strongly before," Vardil baited Hulce. "Even when his men died on Le-Ath Veronis, attempting to bring me the winged woman."

  Hulce went quiet immediately. It raised my suspicions that he was holding something back—there was a question I hadn't asked, yet.

  "What is your relationship with Devarr?" I demanded. "Besides being his chief scientist?"

  Hulce began to weep. My question was answered.

  "Well, well," Vardil set the comp-vid on his desk while a gleeful light appeared in his eyes. "Hulce loves his king—in every way. V'ili," Vardil turned toward me. "I think it's time we tested the ranos cannon, don't you? Let's send a message to that filth on Paricos II—that I hold the upper hand in this and always will. The ship isn't far from Carek Prime."

  My smile was slow and genuine. Vardil was more than furious that Weir imagined he had the winged woman we sought. Vardil and I knew she had white wings instead of black—the fool on Le-Ath Veronis had told me that much. Weir had shown us a black-winged fake in his message.

  Weir needed a lesson for his deceit.

  Carek Prime was about to pay the price for that lesson.

  "I'll speak with the captain and the technicians immediately," I said and turned to leave.

  "Tell them to fire the moment they're in range." Vardil laughed as Hulce dropped to his knees and keened.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Revis' Rock

  Zaria

  Arna was on her way with two of Weir's Third-level warlocks. In fact, they'd already made their way through the front gates of the compound. Something was off—I knew it the moment Arna's warlocks sent blasting spells toward me.

  * * *

  Avii Castle, Avendor

  Justis

  We were studying the problem of slag glass—the natural leftovers from smelting iron ore, when Quin shrieked Berel's name and dropped to the stone floor before I could reach her.

  Something had gone wrong.

  I didn't learn for several hours just how badly it had gone wrong.

  Chapter 15

  Paricos II

  Revis' Rock

  Ilya

  "It is a decoy," Valegar arrived to examine the crumpled body on the floor. It was such an exact replica of Zaria, I felt it should breathe and talk—except for the bloody hole in her head.

  The sight of it made me ill.

  What made it worse was Dragon's news from Lissa.

  Carek Prime had been blasted to bits by a ranos cannon, likely fired by Cayetes' minions at his command.

  Rigo had gotten some away, but Berel and Edden Charkisul, who'd gone into the city to speak with the common people, had been too far away for him to save.

  Not only that, but Carek Prime still bore poison. While it wouldn't be as severe a dusting as Siriaa had been, once again Cayetes was responsible for spreading the poison to other worlds.

  For what?

  Was he angry that Devarr kept the secret of the devices from him? Whatever it was, I'd wager that it was petty revenge that played a part in this.

  While Zaria's copy lay on the floor, Zaria herself had disappeared.

  She had something with her, however, that she hadn't had before; she'd taken the device from Arna, who, along with two Third-level
warlocks, cooled their heels in a powerlight cage I'd constructed myself.

  Tamp, Dragon and Crane were holding a meeting in Tamp's quarters, to decide what to do with those three.

  I wanted to kill them—in the most painful way possible.

  Yes, I wanted revenge, too. Revenge for Carek Prime and the two who'd died that I cared for. Cayetes was behind this—there was no question. Perhaps it was a message to Weir, although I couldn't imagine what kept Cayetes from destroying Paricos II instead.

  "Zaria is likely elsewhere, mourning her mate Edden and his child, Berel," Valegar sighed. "I will send this to Father; he will know what to do with it." Valegar held a hand over Zaria's bloody copy, causing it to disappear.

  "What are we to do? Berel's death will destroy Barc," Bleek sighed as he walked into the room.

  "Berel's death will destroy Quin," I whispered.

  "I know."

  I'd never been hugged or held by a Blevakian before. I didn't mind it and appreciated the warmth of Bleek's embrace.

  * * *

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "This is my fault."

  Devarr of Carek Prime stood in my study, his expression one of loss and bewilderment. Rigo had managed to save most of our envoy, plus Devarr, Lenk and a few others. Wellend and Warlend had done the same.

  Berel and Edden—they'd been outside the palace and too far away for Rigo or the warlocks to pull away when forced to fold space.

  Those two died with the rest of Carek Prime.

  "How is this your fault?" I said. "Please, sit. You're making me nervous."

  "I sent a message to the contact number Cayetes gave me," Devarr chose one of my guest chairs and sat. "I called him names for taking Hulce."

  "You what?" I was standing, now.

  "Hulce and I," he didn't finish. He didn't have to. Devarr and Hulce were together. Or had been, anyway.

  "I had no idea this would be the result," Devarr wiped tears away. "I thought to call Cayetes out. To make him reveal himself."

  "He revealed himself, all right," I snapped. "Fuck. Fuck to the ten-thousandth power."

  "I cannot say how sorry I am," Devarr continued.

  "Yeah? Tell that to all the people Cayetes is going to kill with the technology Hulce handed to him. I have a suite for you that connects to Captain Lenk's. We'll discuss this later; I have another meeting to attend."

  * * *

  My meeting was with Dragon, Merrill and a few others who'd come from Paricos II. Zaria had disappeared—I would have, too, if one of my mates had died on Carek Prime. She needed time to mourn; I understood that.

  "I know how I'd like to proceed," Dragon said, lifting his cup of Falchani black tea and drinking. We'd met in the library to discuss Zaria's absence and what should be done during that time.

  "Call Weir out," Breanne said. She and Charles had appeared at our meeting together. "Bait him. Tell him that he killed Zaria. Yes, I know you can't lie," Bree held up a hand before Dragon could speak. "Let Tamp do the talking. He can lie as much as he wants."

  "But Cayetes doesn't have an argument with us," Merrill pointed out. He had coffee in his cup—no surprise; I'd never seen anyone who loved coffee more than he did.

  "Yet," a slight smile curved Charles' lips. "I suggest this, once you have Weir in hand." A photograph appeared in Charles' hands. He handed it to Merrill, who blinked when he saw it.

  "You're saying that we pull Cayetes in with the promise that we have her?"

  I knew then whose image was on that photograph.

  Quin. As she really was. Yes, Orik had been questioned by V'ili before his death. He'd likely told V'ili everything he knew about Quin, which was a lot. Cayetes knew Quin didn't have black wings—she had white feathers, except for the metallic-colored bands at the ends of her primary feathers.

  "I'm still trying to determine why Cayetes went after Carek Prime instead of going straight to Paricos II to destroy Weir," I said.

  "I think the truth of that will come out," Bree said. "Eventually."

  * * *

  Avii Castle, Avendor

  Justis

  Barc was inconsolable; Quin was still unconscious. I felt ill at the news of Berel's death—and that of his father. This was a terrible blow, and caused concern for Ordin and me for Quin's health and that of our child.

  I sat beside my bed where Quin lay unconscious, my head in my hands. Already, too many had died at Cayetes' and V'ili's hands.

  "Kevis placed Barc in a healing sleep," Master Morwin sighed as he and Kevis walked into my suite. Ordin straightened from examining Quin on the other side of the bed and blinked at the two who'd arrived.

  Morwin's bushy red eyebrows were drawn in a frown as he studied Quin; Kevis went straight to her and placed a hand on her forehead.

  Kevis didn't speak for several moments; he merely allowed his hand to rest on Quin's forehead during that time.

  "She's now in a healing sleep, too," Kevis said as he drew his hand away. "I had to call her back from the dark place she'd retreated to in her mind."

  I drew in a breath as Kevis' eyes locked with mine. I'd forced Quin to accompany me to Farisa's environment, to show Farisa that Quin was my mate and it mattered not what the brown-winged guild master thought regarding Wimla or the color of my child's wings.

  Instead, Quin had fainted the moment she felt Berel die, and tongues were wagging all through the castle as a result.

  None of them sympathetic, most likely.

  Dena's death meant that Quin no longer had a female friend inside Avii Castle to turn to for support. Berel was dead, too, and that was another level of support that had crumbled.

  Lafe and Terrett were outside in my sitting room, waiting to hear from Kevis and Morwin, no doubt. Word had it that Kaldill would arrive soon. Finally, I considered a move to the big house, as they called it. I wasn't willing to allow Quin to go alone. I could fly to Avii Castle whenever it suited me or I had a meeting to attend.

  I no longer had the stomach for gossipmongers and those who wished ill on my love. She and I had suffered too many recent losses for me to have patience for such.

  "Can she be moved?" I asked while standing and shaking out my wings. "I wish to relocate to the big house and take her with me."

  * * *

  Siriaa, Twenty-five Years in the Past

  Zaria

  I walked through the wide grove of sleeping pod'l-morph trees, Arna's device rolling in my fingers as I lost myself in the last memories I had of Edden Charkisul.

  I'd chosen this time on Siriaa; it was just before Camryn and Elabeth's deaths. I knew there would be no further visits to this grove to save Fyris or Siriaa.

  Far to the south, Tandelis still held the throne, although Yevil and Tamblin plotted against him and the Avii royalty.

  Far to the north, Avii Castle stood, a bulwark against all who thought to attack it.

  East of there, Edden served as a member of the Council. He hadn't yet made a bid for the High Presidency.

  My neck ached with tension.

  My heart ached with loss.

  So many things came back to Liron—and other rogue gods. They'd traveled back in time to rescue V'ili and others of his kind, just before the Larentii destroyed Sirena. Those gods had given the Sirenali they'd rescued a purpose—and likely an obsession—for revenge.

  Otherwise, it made no sense for V'ili to serve criminal after criminal, whose goals were to destroy as much as possible.

  In V'ili's mind, it was a form of displacement. He couldn't destroy the Larentii directly in retribution. He'd been pointed toward replacement targets instead, to suit those who'd saved him from intended death.

  How many rogue gods had it taken to place those obsessions on rescued Sirenali?

  How many angels could dance on the head of a pin?

  Perhaps it was time to learn those answers for myself.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Revis' Rock

  Phrin
nis Tampirus

  "We have this," I moved my comp-vid so Weir couldn't help but see Arna and his two warlocks inside the powerlight cage. "My witch is dead—Arna never intended to bring her back to you as instructed," I turned the comp-vid toward my face so Weir could see how angry I was.

  I was angry, but it was because Zaria had fled when Carek Prime was destroyed and one of her mates with it.

  Yes, perhaps I felt some responsibility—but Hulce had approached me and not the other way around. My mistake was in allowing Arna to discover where the device came from—probably through Mayyab.

  I'd paid Hulce a great deal of money for the thing, after all. Not surprising, actually; Devarr wouldn't allow trade with outside worlds. Hulce's inventions would prove more than lucrative if that law weren't in place on Carek Prime.

  Regardless, Carek Prime was nothing more than blasted dust flying through space at this point, and poisoned dust at that.

  "Do what you want with Arna and the other two," Weir hissed. "I only want the device she carried."

  "You mean the device she stole from me?" I lifted the decoy Zaria created and dangled it in front of Weir's image. It looked exactly like the real thing.

  Weir almost whimpered when I showed it to him.

  "I'll pay," he mumbled. "I'll give you Arna, both warlocks and twice what you paid for it in the beginning."

  "But I already have all four of those things," I reminded Weir. "I don't need or want your money."

  "I can send an army against you," Weir snapped. "And take everything you have, including your sorry life."

  "Try." Dragon had stood nearby while I spoke with Weir. All eight of the BlackWing ships had arrived and now orbited Paricos II behind a strong shield. In fact, Captain Meric and his crew had already taken over BlackWing VIII and were quite happy with it.

  "Who are you?" Weir demanded of Dragon.

  He knew Dragon was Falchani. Weir and I both received a surprise when Dragon introduced himself.

  "I'm the Dragon Warlord," Dragon grinned. "And I'm far older than you will ever be. Send your army. You can't hide all of them behind a single device. I and mine will be waiting."

  * * *

  Ilya

  "Tell me this," I said, pointing my cup of tea at Bleek. "Why wouldn't Cayetes just come to blast Paricos II to bits?"