SpellBreaker: First Ordinance, Book 4

by Connie Suttle

She was wise, however, and understood she didn't have the strength or resources to fight those who'd taken over. It didn't mean she wasn't making plans to alert the authorities.

  Every comp-vid and other forms of communication had been destroyed or locked away. She constantly searched for a key and watched for one of Vardil's employees to carelessly leave a device lying about.

  Most of the household staff were watching with her.

  "Don't speak, eh?" Janis said while kneading dough.

  I shook my head.

  "Can you read and write?"

  Stepping toward her wide, wood-topped table, I hastily wrote yes in the flour surrounding the dough before wiping the word away.

  "They don't know, do they?" Janis' voice was soft.

  Again, I shook my head.

  "Good."

  Janis was determined to make this secret work to the household's advantage. I nodded. I, too, wanted it to work to our advantage.

  * * *

  Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  I had no idea why I hadn't thought of it before—giving blood to all the Rith Naeri, so Rigo could send them in any direction at any time. Yes, two would always remain on Hraede to command the small vampire army they'd built, but with their ability and experience, the Order of the Night Flower could boost Rigo's spy network in many ways.

  And, if I gave them a few extras along with my blood, it could prove invaluable. After all, these vampires had stood against adversity for thousands of years, and not once had they been tempted by corruption.

  Kellik, well, his return was practically a miracle in Rigo's eyes, who'd imagined his sire dead long ago.

  Kellik, after all, taught Rigo and the other Rith Naeri. Most would call him the ultimate spy, as no record of him had ever been made and no sightings ever reported.

  When he woke, he'd be able to mist and mindspeak. Those were my gifts to him for rescuing Barra Kend and countless others through the millennia.

  Soon, I'd take care of the others, with Rigo's permission and supervision. It was time the Rith Naeri took on the Alliances and not just Hraede, to keep them from falling to what I called the new super-criminal.

  Vardil Cayetes had been bad enough; Vardil combined with the Arden twins was fifty times worse.

  "What are you thinking, Tiessa?" Rigo asked.

  He sat on a comfortable chair in a corner of my private study while my thoughts consumed me.

  "Something is bothering me," I sighed. "I think I want to pay that coffin in my dungeon a visit."

  Rigo frowned. "You're not thinking of misting inside the base, are you? It could be a trap, my love."

  "I'm not going inside it, but that doesn't keep me from worrying about what's in there. Zaria says there's a book and a ring. Damn, I should have asked more questions about that."

  "I assume it is Wellend's book—I hear from Rylend that neither he nor his father were able to find that particular volume, although they diligently searched both family homes for it."

  "I think that's what it is, too, but my concern is this—what did he write in it before he died? Did he change enough laws to give the twins a clear path to the throne?"

  "You worry that all of Karathia will fall in line behind those two?"

  "Karathia has always occupied the dividing line between the worlds of dark and light. Yes, the wall between the two has dropped, but you don't get rid of history by knocking down an invisible barrier. What if half the planet is predisposed to follow the darkness? Most of the population is more than a thousand years old. Only five percent have been born since the barrier came down."

  "Can that be—that half or more would be attracted to the darkness? Surely not, my love."

  "I'm not sure of anything anymore. The twins have had ample time to make a move, yet they waited until now. Why?"

  "I cannot say. Perhaps I will ask my sire to help research this when he wakes. I look forward to showing him the light half of our planet." Rigo smiled.

  "Take him drinking," I waved a hand. "He hasn't done that in a while, I think."

  "There are many things he hasn't done in a while." Rigo chuckled, and that was a very rare sound.

  * * *

  Karathia—Past

  Zaria

  Hegatt Blackmantle not only provided the genetic propensity for Helsa's irrationality, he'd honed the inborn trait in himself as well as his daughter. I suspected that Helsa's mother, dead for more than one hundred years, died in self-defense against the two.

  I'd only seen Hegatt from a distance as he shouted and ordered servants about while his things were settled in a well-appointed guest suite.

  That meant I didn't see his face clearly until the following morning. What I learned from that brief, initial reading almost made me vomit.

  When my gag reflex was under control again, I fired off a terrified mental message to Ilya.

  Honey, Hegatt bought the plans for those death machines from someone in the Hraedan court, I whispered, as if anyone could listen to my mindspeech. He keeps them with him, in a hidden jacket pocket, and he intends to find someone to build those things in order to take the throne for his daughter.

  Ilya was stunned by the news, as it took him several minutes to form a reply. He wants the throne for his daughter? Not his grandson?

  His grandson isn't as malleable as he'd like, I reported. Nor as powerful as his mother. She's a very strong Fourth-level. He's not up to that. Besides, the twins haven't reached their majority. I think she's willing to hold the throne for one of them.

  We were told not to interfere with the coup, Ilya sighed. Wylend didn't know about this, did he?

  I doubt he had a clue, I retorted. After all, he wasn't at the palace when things went down—he came in afterward, when everybody was dead and—wait. Who the hell took over the throne? They all say Wellend was here, and, as he wore the heir's ring, he was rightfully King. Who was at the palace, running Karathia? Nobody ever says that; they only say that after a few weeks, Wylend and his followers came in to take it back. Wellend refused to go with them and he ended up dying here—although nobody knows who killed him.

  This is the worst kind of conundrum. We're witnessing an unwritten part of history, my love, and we have no authority to do anything to help or hinder.

  Yeah.

  Li'Neruh Rath had been quite specific—that we couldn't do anything to prevent the coup from happening. Things—strange things—were clicking into place all around us, and all we could do was watch.

  I wanted to curse.

  Throw expensive vases and crockery at the walls.

  I was a servant and wasn't allowed fits like Helsa.

  "A snack is required in the drawing room," Milar made one of his sudden, unannounced appearances in the kitchen.

  "Of course, Lord Chamberlain," I bobbed my head and turned toward the prep table. Tiny sandwiches, tea and cake would be prepared for Hegatt the murderer and his equally murderous offspring. The maelstrom rotated faster and its malicious, unblinking eye closed in to destroy us all.

  * * *

  Daris' Compound

  Quin

  "What do you mean it's in the palace dungeon?" Daris screeched.

  She'd received mindspeech from her brother, and responded to the news by venting her frustrations aloud.

  I understood perfectly what she meant.

  Deris had scryed to search for that foul coffin, discovering it was guarded in Lissa's palace rather than an unprotected spot in Justis' glass castle.

  What would they do to attempt to retrieve it? For perhaps the thousandth time, I cursed the Orb for taking away my mindspeech. I wanted to warn Queen Lissa.

  Yes, she was powerful, but I had no doubts as to the depths of treachery Deris and Daris would plumb in order to get the thing back. Whatever it held, they wanted it badly, else they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to hide its true contents from Vardil Cayetes.

  Poor Barc had lain, almost lifeless and in full view, inside the glass-topped coffin to taunt Bl
eek.

  Those two—the Arden twins—didn't have the power to heal. If I still had wings, I'd have rustled them in disgust. Deris and Daris—they should be dead. I wanted them dead.

  Why did the Orb want them alive?

  Vardil was no longer a threat and may as well be dead. Why was it supporting the twins? I wished mightily to have a conversation with Zaria and Queen Lissa about this. Surely, one of them could make a guess at this twist of fate.

  "Girl," Dorgus poked his head out of Vardil's doorway and hissed at me to hurry. Abandoning my thoughts, I rushed to bring the tray of food to him for Vardil's midday meal.

  "I have no idea why they wanted to leave us with fields so overrun with snakes," Dorgus muttered as he placed the spoon in Vardil's hand, urging him to feed himself. "All Daris complains about is the snakes out in the fields. She wants them gone, when there is no way to get rid of them without calling attention to us. She says she can't get a spell to work to destroy them without destroying the crops, too."

  I blinked at Dorgus for a moment.

  Janis would know when the harvest would take place.

  We desperately needed to make a plan when that happened, or both Alliances could be flooded with drakus seed.

  Were they killing more troops with the drug by sabotaging food supplies?

  What about the water and other essentials?

  I hoped Director Griff understood what was vulnerable. Populations needed food and water to exist. With a Sirenali available to obsess those in charge, how many places could the drug be smuggled into, to poison the masses?

  Queen Lissa had a term she used for such, although most merely frowned at her when she used it.

  Terrorism.

  I was beginning to see what she meant, because I was afraid of what could happen.

  "Go amuse yourself," Dorgus waved a hand, dismissing me.

  I left immediately. I had no use for a weak-spined man whose only love was for his life and that of a terrible criminal, even if Vardil Cayetes was now a drooling invalid.

  If either of them had been better men, I would have offered to heal.

  * * *

  When will crop be harvested? I wrote hastily on a damp countertop before wiping the message away.

  "Two eight-days," Janis whispered. "Daris won't go to the fields because of the snakes, so the hands will hold off harvesting as long as possible."

  Where are we? I wrote.

  "They didn't tell you?" Janis wore a puzzled frown. "Oh, never mind. I can see that they wouldn't. The fools." She wiped away my finger-scribbles herself. "The jungle planet of Goor-Phin. The soil is perfect for growing certain fruits and vegetables. You see that our fruit trees were torn from the ground in order to grow this foul excrement."

  I nodded once in understanding. Snakes? I wrote in the water.

  "I've never heard of so many getting so close," she bent toward me to say. "Something is drawing them here, just in the last few days."

  I went still.

  I knew what drew them.

  The Orb hadn't taken that gift away from me; I'd been calling for help every night before I slept, hoping someone would hear me.

  The snakes had come. I merely had to take stock of all our resources and with Janis' help, figure out a way to outsmart a powerful witch before the drakus seed harvest.

  Don't kill the snakes, I wrote in the moisture before nodding to Janis and walking out of her kitchen.

  * * *

  BlackWing VII

  Terrett

  Yanzi, Berel and I were back aboard BlackWing VII. Caylon and Sal were still in charge, but there was a sadness in Caylon's eyes as he taught Jayna hand-fighting every morning.

  He missed Zaria. His mate, Cleo, was now on-board and when no one watched, she brushed stray strands of black hair away from his face and wrapped her arms about his waist.

  He held her as tightly as he dared—she was pregnant, just as Zaria said. It looked as if Cleo missed Zaria—someone she'd never met—almost as much as Caylon did.

  I tapped my experiences into a comp-vid while staring out the window of the dining hall; I hoped to share my writing with Quin if she returned to us.

  I dared not think that she wouldn't—as if that would pull the darkness around me and she'd never come home. I wrote now my memory of taking Quin's wings to Justis.

  The Avii King gathered them in his arms and shut himself in his suite for two days, refusing meals and comfort of any kind.

  Perhaps he, too, was terrified to consider the worst—afraid that it would pull it inevitably toward us. Better to keep hope alive and dark thoughts locked in the recesses of our minds.

  "Tell me about Zaria," Cleo took a seat beside me and patted my hand.

  She had long, auburn hair, dimples when she smiled and was quite beautiful. "Don't worry," she offered a lovely smile, "I have no jealousy toward her. I merely worry for Caylon, because he fought like a mighty, razor-finned fish against the pull of our M'Fiyah. I can only imagine the look on his face when he saw Zaria for the first time."

  It is a tale already among the Avii, I set my comp-vid aside and turned my full attention on Cleo. Caylon thought to test her. Like Ilya, he thought her weak and ineffective as a bodyguard for Quin and Prince Bel Erland. He threw a knife at her, expecting to take her off guard and graze her ribs. Instead, she stopped the knife in midair between them, and left it hanging there.

  Cleo stifled a laugh. I waited for her to regain her composure before continuing. Then, I went on, as the knife was still hanging there, he stepped forward to retrieve it. Zaria had heated it so hot, it burned his hand. He dropped the knife with much surprise.

  Cleo laughed aloud this time.

  He held up his hand and said, "See this?" Zaria walked toward him, took his hand in hers, treated him like a child with a skinned knee and healed it immediately. I can't say for certain, but things may have changed for him then.

  "I really want to meet her. So does everyone else. I think the Saa Thalarr as a whole love her already, because she stood up to Caylon. Not many can do that." She dimpled at me.

  I hope he loves you very much, I responded.

  "He does—he just doesn't like to admit it," she replied. "I'm grateful for Zaria, because Caylon and a daughter," she shook her head and laughed again.

  No bows and ruffles for him?

  "I figure he'll have a blade already made for her before she's born," Cleo said. "We haven't picked a name yet, because he'll want to give her something that may be less than appropriate. I'm hoping Zaria will help—that she'll see the baby and know immediately what to call her."

  You want Zaria to join your family that badly?

  "More than I can say," she sighed. "Caylon can be a handful, at times. It will be nice to have someone in my corner for a change, where he's concerned."

  I understand, I think. He can be somewhat overbearing.

  "Take out the somewhat and you're exactly right," she laughed.

  I smiled, because that's exactly what I'd thought, I'd merely attempted to soften the blow of my statement. It is my hope that she and Gerrett will return to us very soon, I said. I wish to get to know both my brothers better.

  "Someday, perhaps you'll all have dinner with me—you, your brothers and Zaria," she amended. "So you can tell me about your pasts and how you've managed to survive all that."

  It is a long and sad tale, I shrugged. Are you sure you wish to hear it? Perhaps after the baby comes.

  "That's probably a good idea. Raffian says the same thing—in case someone needs healing."

  Raffian?

  "Raffian Grey."

  The Master Wizard?

  "Yes—he's my half-brother. He comes from a very long line of Master Wizards, descended all the way from the original Grey House wizard, who married a female Larentii."

  There is Larentii blood in Grey House? That is quite enlightening, I said.

  "Few knew of it, until one day, Ferrigar came, announcing that he was prepared to accept the kinship. I
t was his daughter, you see, long gone, of course. She separated her particles when her husband died at age one hundred twenty-nine thousand."

  Ferrigar?

  "Former Head of the Larentii Council—also dead. His son, Kalenegar, is now Head of the Council and also related to Grey House. He doesn't visit like his father did."

  "Heads up, we have a shipwreck to investigate," Sal appeared, made his announcement and disappeared again.

  "I wish I could heal while I'm pregnant," Cleo sighed. "I'll put in a call for Kevis and his father, just in case."

  * * *

  Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "Sal called me when they reached the ship," Winkler set a comp-vid on my desk. I looked up at my werewolf mate, who wasn't smiling.

  He always smiled at me. There was trouble and I knew it. "What's on this?" I placed my hand over the small device.

  "It's not pretty, but it's an example of what Deris and Daris are capable of, if they don't get their way."

  "How did you get this?" I lifted the comp-vid and hesitated. If Winkler said it was awful, then it was going to be awful.

  "Off a dead pirate. I doubt the Arden twins know this recording exists—probably a sick trophy taken by the pirate before he accidentally got dead while raiding the cargo ship. You see his friends left him behind—he no longer mattered. This," he nodded toward the comp-vid in my hand, "was found inside a hidden pocket. That's why Sal called me—to take a look."

  I made a face as I switched on the comp-vid—someone had broken the code. It wasn't Joey, this time; I suspected Sal had notified Ashe, who'd given him the code after a brief examination.

  "Ashe wanted this brought to me, didn't he?"

  "Well, yeah," Winkler shrugged.

  "Then watch it with me, in case I want to throw up," I said.

  I was wrapped in Winkler's arms and crying as we watched Deris Arden destroy a fourteen-year-old boy for attempting to protect his father.

  "I want Rigo and Kellik on Goor-Phin as quickly as they can get there," I hissed after wiping tears away with the heel of my hand. "I want an assessment of what's going on there immediately."

  * * *

  Kell

  "You won't be able to teach him anything he doesn't know already," Rigo held up a hand as Kooper Griff, Director of the ASD and also a shapeshifter, handed ranos pistols to both of us.