Somehow, their link to Quin had been broken by the Orb. Whatever the Orb was, it had acted in a sentient manner to solve what it saw as a problem. It recognized me as a threat, so it threatened Quin in return. Because of her continued link to the Orb, I'd understood the threat was real.
As for removing Quin's wings, I only had one guess as to why it was done. Wherever the Orb had sent her, she had to appear humanoid. Therefore, her wings were gone.
I was more than furious, and I'd already sent mindspeech to Bree, along with mental images of what had happened.
"What in the most holy of bloody fucking hells and purgatories has happened?" Kaldill appeared, his anger barely held in check.
"The Orb," I said flatly. "It took our girl and cut her wings."
* * *
Quin
My back was still on fire as I was dumped outside a door. Wherever I was, wealth was involved. The rug I'd landed on was hand-woven and thick.
"Who's there?" Someone opened the door and found me attempting to lift myself off the rug. I blinked up at him.
His name was Dorgus, and he was Vardil Cayetes' trusted servant. He was also acting in Cayetes' stead at the Arden twins' orders. They'd disguised him to look like Vardil's current incarnation, but I could see easily through their spells.
You will serve him and his current masters until I say otherwise, the Orb whispered in my mind. I knew better than to argue; the Orb had stripped the wings from my back without mercy and threatened to kill me so Lissa wouldn't attempt to intervene. Therefore, I was here so I could serve its calculated whims once more.
"I suppose I can't complain; at least they sent someone," Dorgus muttered above me. "Get in here. I need help with Master Vardil."
* * *
I didn't recognize my face in Vardil Cayetes' mirror. My dark hair had been close-cropped—at least it wasn't painful, like the removal of my wings. My features were irregular at best; it was the only way I could describe them.
I'd decided to be mute again; perhaps it was for the best that I never speak to anyone here. I'd learned in my past that they'd consider me incapable of carrying tales.
Vardil Cayetes' eyes barely focused on me as Dorgus and I removed him from his bath. Even with a healthy body, it looked as if his mind were wasting away.
Yes, I could probably heal him.
I wasn't going to, unless there were no other choice.
"Dinner will be brought," Dorgus waved a hand as he dressed Cayetes. "Then we'll put him to bed and you can amuse yourself in your room until the morning. His breakfast is at six bells; be up and ready by that time to help."
I could see in Dorgus what most people had likely never guessed—he was in love with Cayetes the criminal and would be loyal to him until the end.
Sadly, Vardil had only ever been partial to women, even in his current state. And, if he ever had a flash of true consciousness in my presence, I would know it. I had my own plans if that happened, and I was willing to accept the consequences when I acted.
* * *
Zaria
Milar, the Queen's chamberlain, appeared in the kitchen, clearing his throat while Bekzi and I prepared breakfast on our second morning. "Prince Wallend and Princess Valia are returning tomorrow. In two days, Princesses Palia and Titia will return from the King's Palace. In four days, the King and his second son, Wylend, will visit to celebrate the King's birthday. The Queen wishes to have special dishes prepared in honor of the King's visit."
Milar let out a breath, as if he'd saved it for the end of his announcement. I noticed that he'd made no mention of Wylend's mother, Queen Terez. Obviously, she wouldn't be visiting Helsa.
I didn't blame her.
"We will make sure the birthday meal is fit enough for a monarch," I dipped my head. "You may taste beforehand, if you wish."
"I do," he said. "And I will be quite judgmental if it is not to my liking."
"You like," Bekzi frowned. "We make best. You see."
"Is he slow?" Milar turned to me.
"Bekzi is swifter than you can ever imagine, Lord Chamberlain," I said. "He understands perfectly, and merely thinks many of the words the rest of us use are superfluous."
"Strange," Milar turned away from us. "One who uses less than plain speech, one who could speak at court, and both in the Queen's kitchen." He folded away.
"Get used to it," I muttered to the space Milar had occupied.
"Agree," Bekzi growled.
We see King before he die, Bekzi sent.
Yeah, my shoulders drooped. Warlend would have been my grandfather. What if he were someone I could love? Li'Neruh Rath had already said I couldn't interfere with the coup.
How could I deal with that? Knowing that someone I cared for would—wait.
I'd already dealt with it before.
This time, I had to use better sense.
* * *
Vardil's Compound
Quin
"They're returning," Dorgus whispered as he and I settled a limp Vardil on an exercise machine and strapped him in. The machine would work his limbs while his body remained seated in a chair designed to fit his height and weight.
"I asked for a robotic walker, so he could carry himself about, but they wouldn't allow it," Dorgus grumbled. "Yet there they are, with the man who could enable my master to walk and use his hands, and they won't do anything."
I blinked, knowing he'd spoken of Ruther Kend. I wanted to point out that Ruther was busy making death machines for the Arden twins so his family might survive their kidnapping. I merely shook my head in feigned sympathy at Dorgus' words.
"How long have you been mute?" Dorgus asked.
I held up a hand and touched my fingers twenty times.
"Twenty turns? I'd wager that's how old you are," he said.
I nodded—no need to tell him otherwise.
He also didn't know what had precipitated the twins' return; I'd seen in Dorgus that this elaborate home on a hillside outside the capital city on Hraede belonged to one of their wealthier kidnap victims. Whether that victim was still alive, neither of us knew.
Yes, I'd already attempted mindspeech to let Kaldill know where I was, but it had echoed inside my mind and never went farther than that.
The Orb had its own plans and hadn't advised me of them. I also hoped this was one of the places Kooper and Caylon had on their watch list. Perhaps they'd find me. After a moment's reflection, I recalled that I no longer looked like myself.
Even if they had experienced eyes on this place, none would recognize me. Without my wings and facial features, it was a hopeless cause.
"Master Vardil, they're here," a servant poked his head inside the door. Dorgus shared his suite with the real Vardil, but like him, the twins had altered Vardil's features with a spell. To most, he'd be Dorgus, whom Vardil had chosen to care for after years of faithful service.
Dorgus was now Vardil Cayetes to all of Vardil's employees.
"Time to bow our heads and play the fool," Dorgus hissed. With a nod, he motioned for me to care for Vardil while he went to welcome the Arden twins and whomever they'd brought with them.
* * *
Morid
Gale and Norn flanked my cage as I was transported into the massive, hillside home. "We're on Hraede," Norn whispered softly. "They'll keep you in the main house and we'll help as much as we can, but I can't guarantee there will be no mistreatment."
"I know," I replied with my head bowed so I wouldn't draw attention. Ahead, Deris and Daris were greeted by someone they apparently knew. With my limited knowledge of Hraede, I understood this man wasn't from this world; he was someone the Arden twins had positioned there to further their cause.
Why had they chosen Hraede? It made little sense. Of all the worlds available, it would be the least hospitable if their machinations were discovered. Hraede was peace-loving, but there was a core of iron in the monarchy. If you broke the laws or threatened the peace, you would pay dearly for your actions. For that reason—and
many others—the population adored Rigovarnus the Seventh, the current Hraedan King.
My late father hated Hraede, because they'd refused to allow him to do business on the planet long ago—before the Alliance stepped in to regulate spelled items and such. When Grey Planet was allowed membership in the Reth Alliance, he was angry enough to kill over it.
In reality he had killed many, not just because of those he'd worked for, but with what he'd taken from Siriaa.
He'd been responsible for Siriaa's destruction.
He and Vardil Cayetes.
He'd also left me with his legacy—a spell I hadn't been privy to, which led to my capture and current imprisonment. Without Gale and Norn, I'd likely have lost my mind already.
"Ah, Pargun, my friend," Deris greeted the one responsible for my capture. My fists clenched automatically as Pargun embraced Deris Arden like an old friend.
* * *
Quin
The massive house and surrounding grounds belonged to Yerbys Rovell, a wealthy businessman who used it for vacations with his family. I'd learned that by opening a drawer in a small study just outside Dorgus and Vardil's suite.
I'd carefully placed the information back in the drawer after reading it quickly; I'd found extra paper invitations from Yerbys' wife for three parties held the last time the family was in residence.
I wished for a comp-vid to read information on Yerbys' disappearance—if it had been reported. I hadn't known to look for such in Kooper the last time I'd seen him. Now that I was in possession of specific information, there was nobody to read who might tell me what I wanted to know.
Things such as how his family was doing and where they were, or whether they'd been kidnapped like Ruther Kend's family.
The other things I learned was that Pargun was in a large suite on a lower level of the house, and that Deris and Daris had brought a prisoner with them when they arrived with Ruther Kend and his employees.
That prisoner was Morid Belancour.
The last (and most puzzling) thing I discovered while sneaking clothing and wash packs to Morid, was that two of Ruther Kend's servants had taken it upon themselves to help Morid as best they could.
They'd introduced themselves as Gale and Norn, and I couldn't read either of them.
* * *
The kitchen floor was covered by flagstones; it brought back memories of working silently in the palace kitchen in Lironis. Instead of Wolter, shuffling from table to stove on long, storklike legs while shouting and herding kitchen boys about, however, there was a surly woman who frowned at everyone if they failed to do her bidding.
"I don't know why Master Vardil bothers to keep that freeloader alive," she muttered while dumping breakfast mush in a bowl and dropping it on a tray. Two slices of burned bacon followed on a small plate; I poured a glass of milk and set it carefully beside the rest before lifting the tray.
"At least you can't carry tales," she snapped as I carried the tray out of the kitchen. "Got lucky when they found you."
I pondered who might have gotten lucky, as I intended to expose all of them the moment I could, while they believed what they saw and failed to understand—that the least among them might bring about their downfall.
"I shall deal that witch a blow myself, when it becomes possible," Dorgus muttered as I settled the tray of less-than-appetizing food on a small table near Vardil's chair. Whether I'd been there to carry the tray or not, the food would have been the same.
Much better fare would be served to the Arden twins and their collaborators. Dorgus had already eaten; he'd been forced to have breakfast with the twins and Pargun, in addition to a few of Vardil's highly placed employees.
Dorgus had given orders to them, acting as Vardil while the twins supervised and watched for anything out of the ordinary from Vardil's erstwhile assistant.
A part of me wanted to feel sorry for Dorgus, but he'd been complicit in Vardil's doings for too long. Perhaps in different circumstances, he might have been a better person.
I held no hope that he'd change if Vardil suddenly regained his faculties and carried on as before. Whatever sympathy I had for him was because he was faithful in his love for a man who would never love him in return.
"That's right," Dorgus crooned as Vardil's hand lifted the spoon. Dorgus helped dip mush, holding Vardil's shaking hand in his own so the witless criminal could eat.
* * *
Karathia—Present
Bel Erland
I can't count the number of times I attempted mindspeech to reach Quin. Gran was sure Quin was alive; she explained that there was no need to remove Quin's wings if the Orb only intended her death.
"She's in a place where wings would only mark her as a spy or worse," Gran told me.
I'm sure she was right, but it didn't quell my worries. At times, the explanation only made things more horrible in my mind.
The Orb, after all, didn't have a stellar track record of placing Quin in comfortable situations. My guess was that she was somewhere near the Arden twins, serving the Orb's current whims.
Her life in those circumstances would hang by a thread, and it didn't guarantee that she wouldn't take harm from those who considered themselves her masters.
Berel and Edden, both just as devastated as I, offered to take the news to Justis. I couldn't do that; it was hard enough thinking about it. Telling someone else and then offering comfort would kill me.
I'd placed the stasis spell on Quin's severed wings myself, in order to send them to the Avii King. That's where they belonged, although I did allow a single feather for each of the rest of us.
Kaldill—I'd never seen him so stricken. He'd taken his feather and returned to Gaelar N'Seith to mourn.
I hoped he merely mourned Quin's absence and not her death; the Elf King often knew more than any of us, and that included Gran.
Lafe had asked to be taken to Le-Ath Veronis; I imagined that he'd meet there with Dragon, Crane, Drake and Drew. They'd know how to keep him occupied while he grieved. Terrett went back to BlackWing VII, to look after Bleek and Barc.
Barc was terrified for Quin and clung to his father's right hands as I appeared on board with Terrett. Bleek—I'd never seen such a look of desolation on his face. I was beginning to realize it wasn't just for Quin, but for Zaria, too.
Dad and Granddad were grim and tight-lipped about all of it. They worried that Quin would be harmed or worse—either killed or bent to the will of the Arden twins in their twisted grasping for the Karathian throne.
I stood in my suite at the palace on Karathia now, studying my image in the dressing room mirror before going to meet them. Dad ordered a meal to be served in his study so we could discuss the situation privately.
The news of Quin's disappearance hadn't been released to anyone outside the royal family on Karathia. For some reason, Dad worried it could be dangerous to do so.
To me, that meant he suspected that some citizens had already aligned with the Arden twins. I wished Ilya were still with us; I trusted him and he'd willingly assist me in any endeavor to ferret out those with treasonous leanings. Straightening the collar on my shirt, I sighed and folded into Dad's study.
* * *
Hraede
Quin
I didn't learn until the fifth day that Ruther Kend and his staff were working in the basement of the massive Yerbys mansion. I'd followed Dorgus to the servant's lift past the kitchen; he'd motioned me inside and I rode down with him.
When the lift doors swept aside to allow our exit, I found a hive of activity going on inside the cavernous basement.
Whatever the family had stored there—it was now gone, replaced by machines, comp-vids and worktables. A large, box-like device took up a corner near the lift; it would manufacture metal parts and such for the machines and motors Ruther and his assistants were building.
"The problem," Ruther Kend tossed a piece of fabricated metal onto his table with a curse as the metal rang its loud complaint, "is that whoever made those drawi
ngs had no idea what they were drawing."
"Perhaps it's merely because you fail to understand them," Deris snarled as he appeared nearby. I cringed at his arrival; he was angry that this was taking so long. I read that anger easily in his eyes and the downward curve of his lips.
I understood that many who'd vexed him less in the past had died due to his anger. He only kept Ruther Kend alive because he was his only hope for getting the machines right.
Ruther was right, too; I read in him that the one who'd drawn the plans for these terrible machines had been neither scientist nor artist. Something was fundamentally wrong with the drawings as a result. While the machine loosed upon Jaledis was effective, it wasn't the elite killing machine it could become.
Somewhere in Deris' past, he'd experimented with this flawed version of the machine. Ruther Kend was his only hope of rectifying the flaws; therefore, Kend was still alive.
I shuddered to think what could be done with an unflawed, fully functional version of this killing contraption.
"Where did the drawings come from?" Ruther set his safety goggles carefully on the table and studied Deris.
"My grandmother paid for these copies," Deris snapped. "The originals were in the King's vaults here on Hraede. Before you ask," he held up a hand, "they're no longer there. They've been destroyed, I think—my sister and I have already checked. You, my friend, will solve this problem or a member of your family will die in two days. Get back to work and show me something better before then." Deris disappeared.
Was this why they'd chosen Hraede—to search the King's vaults for something that no longer existed? Then, once they were here, they'd elected to stay, since nobody had noticed their presence?
The nearest inhabited property was more than a click away, as Hraedans measured distance, and a narrow forest of trees filled the space in between. Small vehicles could come and go without any the wiser, unless someone were watching closely.
Wait.
That was one of the things Zaria brought up—that Deris and Daris could be interested in property as well as other holdings, to further their dangerous plotting.
SpellBreaker: First Ordinance, Book 4 Page 12
