Ascendant: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 2)

by A. L. Knorr

  ***

  "Could we ask Juer if he has seen my mom?" asked Jordan as they wove along the street. "We can show him this," she added, pulling the locket out from under her vest and dangling it where Sol could see.

  "Yes, of course we can." Sol had forgotten they had a portrait of Jaclyn. That was helpful.

  They turned down an alley filled with shops and buzzing with people going about their business. Sol stopped at a wide wooden door.

  "Want me to wait outside?" Jordan asked, catching Blue as he nearly dropped off her shoulder in torpor of sleep and digestion.

  "No," Sol smiled at her. "Why don't you come in? Juer works for the king, but he's not royalty and doesn’t care for ceremony."

  Jordan shot him a dazzling smile. "Okay!" It was the first time Jordan was going to meet anyone in Sol's life. "Is there any etiquette I should be aware of?"

  "Just be yourself." Sol pushed open the tall door, which was obviously built to accommodate Arpaks with large wingspans, and they stepped into a dimly lit space that smelled of mouldering paper and leather. The ceilings reached up four or five stories in a semi-circular library. Books and scrolls were stacked haphazardly on shelves that no human could ever reach without an impressively tall ladder. A Strix, however, would have no trouble spreading their wings in this huge round space and climbing to wherever they needed to draw from.

  The wooden floor was inlaid with red and brown wood in a huge wagon wheel pattern, its spokes reaching out in every direction.

  "Cool floor," Jordan said.

  "It's a ventilation system," explained Sol. “The brown wood drops away and moves over to allow for wind to come up through the floor and go out through the ceiling.”

  Jordan looked up and saw a similar pattern in the domed ceiling. "How wonderfully clever!"

  "Yes and no," laughed Sol. "You should see what happens to anything not nailed down when it’s open. There's a reason they stopped building them."

  "It’s there to help lift an Arpak to a higher shelf?"

  "Precisely. A strong Arpak doesn't need the blast of air, but," Sol lowered his voice, "Juer isn't as young as he used to be."

  "Whatever do you mean, lad?" came a grating but jovial voice. It bounced around the circular space as though from a disembodied source.

  "Juer?"

  A balding head with a corona of thin gray fluff poked out from over a balcony. "You've returned, my lad. Excellent, excellent," Juer chuckled. "And what a pretty guest you bring with you. Hello, there." He waved at Jordan.

  "Hello," she called up with a grin and a wave.

  "I'll be right down," he began to climb over the balcony.

  "Don't trouble yourself, we'll come up," said Sol quickly. Jordan saw why; Juer's wings were thin and missing patches of feathers.

  "Oh, please let us come up. I would love to see more of your library," said Jordan.

  Juer crossed back over the balcony. "Come up, come up, then." His voice dimmed as he vanished into some recess. "Maybe you can help me find what I'm looking for."

  Jordan began to spread her wings but Sol said, "There are stairs. Best not disturb his papers with our drafts.”

  Jordan put her wings away and followed Sol past the library and onto a stone floor where a wide spiral staircase led to the upper levels. Blue gave a sleepy clicking purr. "Do you want to nap while the adults talk?" Jordan asked him. She set him down at the bottom of the stairs. Blue tottered to a chair piled high with books. He curled up underneath it and tucked his head under his wing with a contented sigh. "You sleep as much as a puppy," Jordan remarked before climbing the stairs.

  Jordan and Sol ascended two tall stories, passing a room with a bed that looked like someone had had a nightmare in it. Bedding half spilled onto the floor and more pillows than Jordan could count at a glance were scattered across the mattress and on the floor. A large stone fireplace sat cold and dormant. A thin slash of a window let in just enough light to reveal all the dust motes floating in the air.

  At the next level they discovered Juer up to his elbows in open books. Scrolls were spread out around him and held down with rocks. Skulls of species Jordan couldn't identify had been demoted into candle holders, and dripped lumpy wax. A wooden table so large it had to have been built there was cluttered with all kinds of research. A chandelier, lit with warm balls of yellow light from an unknown source, swung over the mess, throwing eerie shadows. The two young Arpaks joined the elder one at the table of disaster.

  Juer was bent and wizened, but sprung with vitality all the same. He faced the pair with a wrinkly smile and took a closer look at Jordan. He reached out an arthritic hand.

  "Sol, you've been keeping secrets from me, my boy. Who's this delightful canary?"

  Jordan had to laugh. It was exactly how she'd thought of herself when she first saw her own near-fluorescent feathers.

  "I'm Jordan." She clasped his hand gently, careful not to squeeze too hard. But Juer clutched hers in a firm grip that was surprising in its strength.

  "A pleasure, a real pleasure," he said. "What are you doing commiserating with my nephew? You know he's nothing but trouble." He held up a twisted finger. "He'll never settle down, mark my words."

  "Juer," Sol said, turning pink.

  "Uncle?" Jordan looked at Sol.

  "He never told you?" Juer chuckled and moved closer to whisper conspiratorially to Jordan. "He's a little embarrassed."

  "That's not true," said Sol, his flush deepening.

  "He doesn't want people to think he became the king's courier through nepotism," explained Juer.

  Jordan looked at Sol's red face, not sure what to say.

  "Bully to that," added Juer with some passion. He clapped a wizened hand on Sol's fleshy shoulder. "Sol was top of his class. Weren't you, lad?"

  "Okay, now I'm embarrassed," said Sol with exasperation. "Can we talk about something else? What are you doing here, Juer?" Sol asked, gesturing at the messy room. "I thought you were going to sell this place and move everything to the castle to save you the traveling?"

  "All in due time, my boy. All in due time," the doctor muttered, patting the table absent-mindedly as though searching for something. "I can still make the journey. And it's good for me, I'll wager." His fingers found a pair of square spectacles with thin wire frames and he propped them on his nose. "Can you imagine the nightmare of moving all of this?" He waved at the library behind them. "These things are old—ancient, some of them."

  "You wouldn't have to deal with it," Sol said. "You're a citizen of the palace. There are Strix who can do that for you."

  Juer peered over his glasses at Sol. "And would those Strix be of skin or of feather, do you think?" he asked slyly.

  " ‘Of skin or feather’?" Jordan echoed. She watched Sol as he shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. "Oh, you mean Nycht or Arpak?"

  Juer grunted and shuffled some papers in front of him, shoving an open book to the side as though whatever he'd found in it had disappointed him. His eyes dusted Sol's body. "You are not carrying a very large bag." A more serious tone had crept into his voice.

  Sol reached for his satchel. "Yes, about that." He retrieved the jar of black liquid and handed it to the doctor.

  Juer's eyes widened. "This cannot be all?" He took the jar in his twisted hand.

  "I'm afraid so. Cles sent you this, as well." Sol handed him the small yellow envelope.

  His fingers trembling just a little, Juer took the envelope and set the jar down on the table. He unfolded the letter and tilted his head to read the words through his glasses. His frown deepened.

  "This is not acceptable." Juer ran a withered hand over his mouth and jaw. His patchy wings shook with agitation. "This will not do. Something is amiss." He muttered this while turning away from Jordan and Sol; processing, thinking, talking to himself. "Not good."

  "What can I do to help, Juer?" Sol asked.

  "There is a shortage of lapita medicine," said Juer. "My stores have dwindled and every order
I have sent for from Cles has grown smaller and smaller. And now this," he picked up the tiny jar and shook it. The liquid sloshed. "Something must be done." He peered at Cles's letter. "Cles says he cannot get the raw ingredient. It is not for sale anywhere in Maticaw. He has sent letters as far as Skillen with no success."

  "What is the raw ingredient?" asked Jordan.

  "Gersher fungus," said Juer. "That is the critical ingredient. The others are there merely to stabilize and emulsify."

  "But that grows in Charra-Rae," said Sol with surprise. "There was masses of it. We just came from there."

  Jordan nodded. "Baskets and baskets of it are harvested daily. We saw it with our own eyes. It's a brown fungus, with a bright pink top. Right?" She almost added that it was harvested by a host of befuddled workers who'd had their brains gnashwitted by the Elves. Their vacant faces still haunted her thoughts.

  Juer stared at the two Arpaks. "That's right," he said. "It's pink on top. Bright, like a chilla-feather. Baskets of it, you say?"

  The two Arpaks nodded enthusiastically.

  "Then the problem is not the raw ingredient. The problem lies elsewhere."

  "Do you want me to go back to Charra-Rae? I'm sure we can buy some fungus directly from them."

  Juer considered this. "So many problems with that. The raw ingredient is difficult to process, I don't have the skill. It needs to be done by an experienced apothecary, like Cles. And buying direct will be a bureaucratic nightmare of paperwork. You won't be able to get gersher past the borders without alerting the port authorities." Juer began to pace. "It's also a temporary solution. Inefficient. It won't do." Juer's bright intelligent eyes homed in on Sol.

  "What?"

  "It's not in your job description, but going through the proper channels will take forever. And we don't have time."

  "Tell me," said Sol, stepping forward. "What can I do?"

  "Pay a visit to Belshar for me. Learn what you can."

  Sol cocked his head at the name. That rings a vague bell. "The bureaucrat?"

  "He's a trade-master," said Juer. "If it’s not a problem with the raw ingredient then it’s a problem with trade. Speak to him. If he doesn't know what's happening, he should be made aware. Best we can hope for is something simple." Juer waved a hand. "Someone needs to stamp something or give an approval. There's likely an agreement lying forgotten under a pile of documents somewhere. Happens all the time." He tilted his chin and looked at Sol over his glasses. "Would you do that for me?"

  "Of course, Uncle Juer. I have no other commission at the moment. I'll go today. Right now."

  "Thank you, my boy." Juer took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But go tomorrow. The office will be closed by now, and you both look tired."

  Sol nodded. "Alright. I’ll go first thing.” He looked at Jordan. Shall we go home?"

  Jordan nodded, she was eager to see where Sol lived. She pulled the locket out from under her vest. "Very quickly, I was wondering…" she opened the locket and held it out for Juer to see its interior. "Have you ever seen this woman?" Her bright eyes scanned the old Arpak's face hopefully.

  Juer held the locket open on his palm, in the light where he could peer at the face painted inside. "Beautiful lady," he grunted. "I wish I had seen her before."

  Jordan's heart deflated. "Thank you, anyway."

  "Who is she, my dear?"

  "My mother," said Jordan, and her throat constricted.

  Juer's bushy gray eyebrows arched. "Ah, yes I can see that now; you have her cheekbones. Different eyes, though."

  "Yes," said Jordan.

  "You've lost your mother—" Juer began, and then waved a hand. "Nevermind. Tell me later. Later. Go."

  Sol and Jordan said goodbye and left the old doctor to his studies.

  "I'm sorry," murmured Sol as they stepped out onto the street. "We're just getting started. Don't worry."

  "I'm not." Jordan brightened. "Rodania is a big place. It's not like everyone knows everyone."

  "No. Not remotely," Sol agreed.

  ***

  Sol's place was on the third floor from the top of a high granite tower facing the palace. They landed on his terrace, and Jordan turned to take in the view. "Wow!"

  "Like it?" Sol felt unexpectedly timid. He didn't bring guests back to his apartment very often. For some reason, it mattered to him that she liked it there.

  "It's spectacular!" The setting sun had cast Upper Rodania in a peach colored glow, softening the hills, valleys, turrets, and spires across from and below them. The palace, an elegant cluster of white columns piercing the clouds, reflected the evening light and seemed aglow. Small blue and yellow lights from lanterns and streetlights twinkled from the buildings and roadsides, speckling and crisscrossing the land. "I've never seen such beauty."

  Sol was watching Jordan take in the view. "Me either."

  They entered the tall-ceilinged apartment, which was a simple and sparsely furnished three-room design. Every door was exceptionally tall and wide, giving the place an airy feeling. Handcrafted wooden furniture was sprinkled about, including a huge four-poster bed which could be seen through the arched doorway leading into the bedroom.

  "How do you keep intruders from coming in?" Jordan asked, noting that there was no way of locking up the apartment.

  "Rodania doesn't have such problems," answered Sol, opening his icebox. "The blood you give before you can enter Rodania can also be used to track your movements." His voice came from behind the door as he retrieved a selection of vegetables and fruits. "It's more than enough of a deterrent. The punishment for such a thing would be Trevilsom prison." He closed the door and stood before the wooden countertop. "Nobody wants to go there."

  Jordan was eyeing the array of vegetables and the slab of frozen dark pink meat that Sol had pulled out. "What's that?"

  "It's feroth," Sol said. "Remember that carcass—"

  "Don't remind me," Jordan shuddered at the thought of the gigantic beast she'd fallen against after tumbling head over tail into Oriceran. "Please tell me it tastes better than it smells."

  "That was a rotting one," Sol began, but when Jordan's face turned a shade of green, he grabbed a squash from the pile of vegetables. "Want to prep this?"

  "Yes, please give me an occupation or I shall be sick." Jordan took the squash and smelled it. "It's sweet!"

  Sol handed her a knife. "Slice it in half and take out the seeds. Then we bake it."

  "Like squash on Earth," Jordan noted.

  They worked side-by-side, preparing their meal. Sol poured them both a glass of wine as they waited for the food to cook in the tile stove. Delicious smells began to fill the small kitchen and the two Arpaks sat on the terrace waiting for the meal.

  "Where's Blue?" asked Sol as they watched the first of the stars come out.

  "He crawled under your bed," replied Jordan. That made her realize that there was only one bed, which made her cheeks pink. "Uh…speaking of which…"

  Sol blinked vacantly, then finally clued in. He swallowed too big of a gulp and almost choked. He wiped his mouth. "I'll sleep on the terrace."

  "Where?" Jordan looked around at the sparse furniture.

  "I'll snug up with a blanket. Don't worry about me."

  "Such a gentleman." Jordan held her wine glass up in a salute. Between her exhaustion and the alcohol, she was feeling a bit furry in the brain. She gazed at the darkening sky where two small but bright orbs had hoisted themselves into the sky. “Two moons! How did I not notice them before?”

  But Sol had gone inside. He brought the food out, and the two sat down to their feast of squash and grilled feroth. As they both realized how completely famished they were, they ceased all conversation and tore into their meal with gusto.

  They cleaned up in sleepy silence afterward, took turns bathing and then fell into bed, Jordan in the bedroom and Sol on the terrace. Sleep came on swift wings to all three of them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sleep didn't come easy for Eohne
. There were too many questions elbowing each other in her mind, like anxious passengers on a crowded train. Her messenger bugs still hadn't returned, and Sohne's insistence that she remain in the forests of Charra-Rae gnawed at her. Worry skittered through her stomach like cockroaches across a tile floor. She sat up in her bed—a mattress stuffed with chilla leaves, set up in the top loft of her home—and pressed her fingers to her stomach.

  "This is stupid," she muttered, and rose. She slipped on her leggings and tunic, then pulled on her supple leather boots. She grabbed her utility belt and climbed down the vine ladder to the floor. She bent and checked the glass bottle she'd left outside the door in case the other bugs returned. The glass bugs inside the jar, exactly thirteen of them, didn't move. Still flat. Still dead. Still nothing from the other half of the group.

  Concern exploded into full-blown panic and Eohne wrestled it into submission, taking a deep, juddering breath. "They have to come back," she whispered. "Dead or alive, they have to come back." If the bugs returned, there was a chance they would have some information encoded in the juice inside their bodies; it wasn't until they were all together that she'd be able to read it, though. The bugs weren't so much a dozen separate creatures, as they were one entity tethered together by magic. She walked to the edge of the embankment and sank to the mossy ground, hanging her legs over the edge of the outcropping.

  The forest was quiet. The paths that connected the trees glimmered softly in the darkness. Stars twinkled between the leaves overhead, but the two moons of Oriceran had already risen high and passed out of sight. Peaceful.

  Eohne inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth in an effort to calm her anxiety. The messenger bugs had to have found Jordan's father. She'd designed them herself, tested each prototype and refined them until she'd produced their current form; the lack of return had nothing to do with the efficacy of the bugs. But no matter how she sliced it, something had gone wrong.