Finder: First Ordinance, Book One

by Connie Suttle

  "Mother, you can't mean that," Amlis jerked his head to stare at Omina. Fierce determination glittered in her blue eyes, the same color that Amlis had inherited and the King mistrusted.

  "Why not? Fyris is dying, and your father has this fool idea that he can just walk into the barbarian's homes and take what he wants. Do you think for a moment that we have enough ships, or can build enough ships, to carry the troops necessary to destroy them? I've read the histories—they far outnumber us, and the information we have is more than a thousand turns old. Who knows what they are now, or how they've progressed? We are the ones who have failed to evolve, I think. Admit it—we haven't changed much in all that time. We were driving carts and riding horse, and we still are."

  "I hold hope that our message will have a reply soon," Amlis said.

  "My son, I was there. My brother may hold hope, but I have none at all. We'll watch the girl, and use her if we must."

  * * *

  "Blackmail. That's what Mother suggests. And we'll be sentencing Finder to death, there's no doubt. The moment we turn her over and they learn she's only a half-breed, they'll kill her and we'll never convince them to help." Amlis paced inside his private suite of rooms while Rodrik watched, sipping a cup of wine.

  "Face it, cousin," Rodrik sighed, raising his booted feet to a footstool set before the fire, "the girl has no prospects. Yes, I know she's been more than useful, but you have to think of Fyris, first. If we can get what we want before turning her over, then the deed will be done already and they can't take it back. We will sacrifice one, to save all of Fyris."

  "But we'll still be faced with Father, Yevil and the madness that consumes both of them," Amlis muttered angrily.

  "We will worry about that when the time comes. Fyris first, madness later."

  "Don't forget to add mercenaries and attempted assassinations," Amlis said, smiling tightly. "I suppose Yevil is killing survivors. What do you think?"

  "Hacking them apart is more like it," Rodrik observed grimly.

  "Shall I wed Mirisa early? We could use Firith's aid, should Father decide to march against us."

  "Consult with your mother and my father first. We don't want the King's anger earlier than anticipated," Rodrik hid a smile in his wine cup. "Of course, Beatris will arrive tomorrow or the day after. My lady wife might not mind planning a wedding."

  "Do you think Northern Fyris will stand against the South and my father, if it comes down to that?" Amlis became serious, suddenly.

  "I doubt it. Firith is the only principality we might count on completely, and only because old Mortin wants his daughter on the throne. I hear from Father that Mortin had a fit when Tamblin offered you instead of your brother."

  "There's that," Amlis agreed. "Hand over that bottle. I want a drink before you finish it off."

  * * *

  "You will not be Amlis' page here," I was informed by Omina herself. "We have someone here who performed in that capacity before the Prince left for Lironis. You will heal, first, then we will find a position for you among my servants." If Omina had struck me, it might have been a softer blow. I blinked at her, silent as usual and worked not to betray my feelings in the matter.

  The Queen wore her age well, and appeared to be at least ten turns younger than she was. I was sitting up in bed, having breakfast when the Queen walked into the tiny room they'd given me, making her announcement without realizing it would kill what little appetite I had. No doubt, I'd end up in her kitchens, just as I had at the palace in Lironis.

  "That might have waited, Omina." The physician was back and watching as I carefully set my breakfast aside—there was a table situated beside my narrow bed that held my tray. I wished for the authority to rise and walk out on both of them, but I didn't.

  "When would be a good time, Farin?" The Queen swept out, a bit of color in her cheeks. Likely, she would make me pay for that bit of embarrassment, although I'd truly had no hand in it. That seemed to be the way of things; punish the one who could not strike back. I'd seen it often enough at the King's palace.

  "You should eat as much as you can," Farin eyed the tray. It mattered not; I was done with it and turned my head away at his words.

  "Servants are generally not mistreated here," Farin attempted to make the Queen's statement easier to accept. Perhaps he believed what he'd spoken, but I'd watched silently all my years. Even the best masters mistreated their servants, now and then.

  * * *

  Vhrist, perhaps, was a more interesting city than Lironis, but doubtless it was because the high hills were nearby, and beyond those, the Northern Sea. After three days, Farin allowed me out of my bed and I slipped up many palace steps unnoticed until I came to the upper turret.

  Accessed through a door and open to the elements, the turret was built of stones laid in a large circle, with pillars and arches holding up an elegantly domed roof. An inlaid tile design was on the floor, cleverly crafted to depict interlocking crowns. I had no idea what that meant, as I'd never seen a crown—the few times I'd seen Tamblin, he hadn't worn his—it was saved for High Court and special occasions. He'd worn a simple circlet in the Council meeting and at the dinner where I'd been beaten.

  The tile depicted two crowns, one smaller than the other, so I had no idea which might belong to the Fyrisian King. One crown's design—the larger one—looked to have been scrubbed away, leaving the image hazy and difficult to make out. Perhaps the smaller one was the Queen's crown, and Omina might have worn it when she was in Lironis. Servants had not cleaned in a while and rain and dust had left swaths of soil across the tiled surface.

  I leaned against the balustrade outside the turret and watched the waters to the north of the city. Fishing boats came in with their catch and I imagined that fish were being purchased as soon as the boats docked at the piers. These were no small vessels, after all, but larger ones, carrying up to twenty men who hauled in fish and crustaceans in heavy nets.

  Crustaceans such as the Northern Sea could produce were not available in Lironis—there was no way to preserve them on the long journey to the south. Wolter often moaned about how good some of it was and wished he had it to prepare in his kitchen. It mattered not to me; I would not eat fish as well as meat.

  "I wondered where you were." Amlis had found me. Why had he bothered to look? I dipped my head respectfully to him and turned back to watching fishing boats in the bay as well as traffic crossing an arched bridge to come into the city.

  No wall stood around Vhrist's palace, and I wondered at that. The one surrounding the palace in Lironis was nearly as old as I, according to Wolter. He and Chen complained about it once, claiming that when men their age were younger, they'd run in and out of the Queen's garden, playing hiding games. Now, that was no longer possible—the wall was in the way and guards prevented the unauthorized from coming through.

  "My mother plans to put you in the kitchens when you're better," Amlis stood at the balustrade within arm's reach. Why was he telling me this? It was something I'd already guessed. "She'll pay you a little. That's why I want you to take this." He produced the gray leather pouch of coins again. "It was not meant as an offense, or to belittle what you'd done for me, or to mitigate my or Rodrik's actions later. I hoped it would soften the blows." He held the pouch toward me. I turned my face away and kept watching the boats.

  "Finder, you have so little. Your comb has half the teeth missing. If the innkeeper's wife had not offered you a new tooth cleaner, you wouldn't have that, either. Mother will have her dressmaker come soon and sew a blouse and skirt or two for you to wear. Use the money to buy something better. I hope you'll forgive me and Rodrik for not informing her and Rodrik's father that you saved our lives on the road."

  Amlis set the money pouch on the balustrade at my elbow and turned to leave. "Take the money. Please." And then he was gone. I slipped the pouch into my pocket, but I had no immediate plans to spend it. I'd done without, most of my life. What did it matter, anyway?

  * * *

&n
bsp; On the sixth day, Rodrik's wife Beatris arrived, and Mirisa of Firith traveled with her. Beatris, dark-haired and blue-eyed, was pretty and a good match for Rodrik, I think, but there was a sadness in her. Using my gift, I determined that she'd lost a child two turns earlier and it grieved her still.

  Rodrik seemed quite solicitous around her and I watched them with a bit of envy. Mirisa was Amlis' intended, I learned that soon enough, and she was quite high-handed with Omina's servants, ordering them about and demanding even the slightest thing be brought or carried or cleaned away.

  She had no desire to do anything for herself, and I despised her immediately. She was pretty enough, with pale hair and brown eyes, but thought herself even more beautiful, and Amlis offered her as much attention as she could wish for. I kept away from Beatris and Mirisa as much as possible, as I was still recovering. My tiny room was exchanged for another in the servants' quarters, where I was fortunate enough to get another corner of a storage room. It seems that none of the other servants wished to have a mute as a roommate, so Omina found alternative quarters for me.

  No books were stored in forgotten crates, however, and I missed that greatly. Therefore, it was luck that I found a few things inside what was considered Tamblin's old study—he'd used it on the few occasions he was in residence in Vhrist. Judging by the state of the room, I decided that he would no longer require it, so I slipped inside at times when no one was watching, to pull books from dusty shelves and read.

  Just as those in Lironis, these books had pages and pages ripped away, but there were a few things that I hadn't read before, concerning the building of ships, netting of fish and trade between Vhrist, Vhoorth and their surrounding principalities. Yes, it might have been boring at times, but at least I had something to read. A few illustrations were scattered throughout some of the books, and it was fortunate that I was looking at those drawings one day when Omina caught me, frightening me terribly.

  "No, you may look at the pictures if you like," she held out a hand. "Liron knows nobody else is going to look at any of this." She held hands on hips as she stared at the dusty shelves surrounding the room. I'd cleaned the dust off the desk; at least it was clean enough as I pored over old books.

  "If you feel well enough, go ahead and clean this room and I'll allow you to look at any of the books you like. I warn you, not all of them are illustrated." She walked out then, while I followed her with my eyes. Even then, she thought me too stupid to know anything and nearly too stupid to understand what she'd said.

  Two weeks later, I was pronounced fit for duty and the seamstress came to measure for blouses and skirts. Omina was present while the middle-aged woman worked, and informed her to allow the blouses to billow in the back to make room for what she called nubs. "Farin says they're growing, and he wants to see what happens if we leave them alone," Omina said.

  Farin called them nubs instead of bone spurs? That information came with a bit of shock. I was grateful they wouldn't be cut away—that had always been painful and I didn't mind if my back wasn't perfect, although it would add to everyone's opinion that I was deformed.

  What I didn't appreciate were the skirts—it was awkward and uncomfortable to work in the long things. I'd worn trousers as long as I could remember, all of them handed down from kitchen boys. Therefore, after my first week in the kitchens, when I was given a day off, I walked right out of Omina's palace and went into Vhrist, unerringly heading for the street that held tailors' shops. I knew where they were—I could find things, after all.

  "You're the girl who came back with the Prince." Obviously tailors gossip just as much as chambermaids and kitchen help. "The one who can't speak. I'm Sofi," the woman held out a hand to me and squeezed my fingers lightly before letting go.

  Sofi was still young—perhaps less than thirty, with soft brown hair braided down her back and brown eyes that offered a kind smile. A pincushion was tied to a wrist with ribbon and several pins stuck out of it at every angle.

  "What can I do for you?" she asked. I pointed to a pair of trousers that were hanging in the back of her shop. They were of canvas, the fabric used to make trousers for the sailors in the harbor. The same material was used for ship's sails, except this version was dyed a deep black. Omina insisted that the maids wear black skirts, so I was having black trousers made instead.

  "You want trousers?" her eyes raked my thin body, staring at the blue trousers I wore from the uniforms Nirok had sewn for me. They were in Amlis' colors, and Omina didn't want me to wear them.

  Mirisa, too, glared every time she saw me if I wore Amlis' colors. Jealousy ate at her every moment, and I'd seen her beat a maid only that morning for walking out of Amlis' chamber after cleaning it.

  Nodding at Sofi's question, I let her know that I wanted three pairs sewn and then tapped the purse Amlis had given me, silently inquiring about the price.

  "Two silvers gets three pairs of trousers," Sofi said right away, and I knew that she wasn't attempting to cheat me—that was her normal price. I nodded and drew out the required coins.

  "Auntie, I had a bad dream." A child walked into the room, rubbing her eyes. Sickly, she was, and very thin. Her hair, such as it was, was pale-brown and quite sparse. She was six, my ability informed me. And dying. Children and the elderly had little natural defense against whatever poisoned Fyris.

  "Yissy, go into the kitchen. I will come soon and give you tea while I cook." Sofi attempted to shoo the girl away, worried that the child would frighten away clientele. I waved a hand in dismissal.

  Come, I whispered into Yissy's mind while I beckoned to the weak and sickly child. We will keep a secret, you and I.

  "You are not obligated," Sofi began, but that was before Yissy cuddled into my arms as if she'd known me forever. What I did then I had only done twice before, and it was for animals.

  Whatever it is, it feels as if I touch my spirit to theirs, healing the sickness pervading their body. Yissy was the first child brought within my reach that suffered from what sickened the land itself. I was determined to right what I could. I also sent as much love and caring as I could muster, but never having had that commodity for my own, I had no idea how much it might be.

  "I will have the sewing done in six days," Sofi gently pulled Yissy away from my arms, staring at me as she did so. I shrugged and counted off eight days on my fingers—that would be when I would have time to come again. Sofi nodded at my wordless explanation. "Would you like tea?" she asked, pointing toward the back of her shop.

  I shook my head, desiring to use what time I had left to explore Vhrist. Sofi held Yissy against her skirts as both watched me walk through the shop door and into the cobbled street beyond.

  Many servants were allowed the eighth day of each week off, and used it to their advantage, making purchases for themselves and meeting friends and family as often as not. Most businesses were open on the eighth day, just for the custom of those not graced by noble birth.

  As an orphan in the King's kitchens in Lironis, I'd never been allotted a day off before. I wanted to see ships firsthand and not from a distance, and look upon the birds that wheeled and called about the harbor. It smelled worse than I imagined it would when I arrived.

  Chapter 6

  Seabirds have a distinctive call that pierces the salt air, and I could hear them long before arriving at the harbor. The harbor itself smelled of fish guts and sour salt water. Perhaps it was fresher upon the open sea, but I might never discover that for myself, tied as I was to Lady Omina and her palace kitchen.

  The water around the heavy, wooden ships was dirty, with bits of debris floating about. Sailors sat on decks, their feet dangling over the tall sides as they drank, laughed or played a musical instrument. Not all of them were talented. The birds fought over any edible bit that had the misfortune of falling overboard or had been tossed into the water as garbage.

  Several sailors called out to me, and a few of those were quite vulgar in their language. Not that I hadn't heard such things before
; I just hadn't had them shouted in my direction. Walking away from those as quickly as I could, I made my way upward toward the city and the palace. It had taken some time to get down to the harbor, and the climb back would take up even more of my day.

  Exhaustion dogged my heels by the time I made my way into the side door that led into the kitchens. Gossip was as thick as the scent of cooking roast from the moment I entered. Mirisa had taken a poker to another chambermaid (presumably for staring too long at Amlis), and injured the girl, breaking a shoulder and a wrist. Now, Lady Omina was short a chambermaid; the injured girl had gone home to her mother after healer Farin had seen to the broken bones.

  If Omina and Amlis could not see past the pretty façade that was Mirisa, then I pitied them both. Mirisa would not hold her blows back from anyone, once she had Amlis' vows and a ring on her finger. Perhaps Rodrik would step in and do Amlis' fighting for him, where Mirisa was concerned; the Prince wouldn't lift a finger to prevent her from abusing the staff.

  The gossip was ignored after a while as I settled into a corner by the fireplace to eat a bowl of beans—this cook had little regard for one who refused meat. Chunks of carrot had been tossed in as an afterthought and that made me think of Runner and his love of the orange vegetable.

  Should I have gone straight to my small space in the storage room? It would only have delayed the inevitable. "Ah, Finder, there you are." Lady Omina stood over me as I looked up at the sound of her voice. "Beginning tomorrow," the Lady had hands on hips as she tapped a shoe impatiently, "you will join the chambermaids and help clean the bedchambers. I have had no luck in finding another girl on such short notice."

  Whirling, she walked away from me as I swallowed the bite in my mouth with difficulty, half-chewed as it was. She hadn't said it was temporary. Lady Omina hadn't indicated that she would still be looking for another girl so I might keep my somewhat safe place in the kitchen. No. That was not to be. This was her revenge against me for Farin's words. I would be under Mirisa's scrutiny if I came anywhere near Amlis or his bedchamber.