An envoy from the President had left minutes earlier, after delivering payment for Quin's healing. Quin was still under guard, and the envoy had promised a visit from the President that evening at dinner, before the Avii left for home.
"I think he'll make an offer for Quin," Ordin murmured before rising from his seat and stalking toward the window. "He'll offer to buy her, and your brother will name a price. She is not a slave, to be bought and sold," Ordin whirled to face Justis, an angry scowl on his face.
Justis blinked at Ordin before nodding. Ordin's words made sense. "I owe you," he nodded at Ordin. "I speak for Jurris while we're here. I will refuse, and this will never reach my brother's ears. Should Charkisul have need, he can negotiate with my brother in the future for Quin's services."
"That does nothing to elevate Quin's status," Gurnil rounded on Justis. "He'll leave her in the kitchen until he sells her talents again."
"What do you suggest I do?" Justis snapped. "He is King. The girl's wings are growing. Perhaps she'll have Green Wings, and the problem will be solved."
"I have little faith in that," Ordin said.
"When will the pin feathers require rolling? We should see the beginnings of color soon, don't you think? My black was seen quite early, after all."
"We should see that soon, but there's still no guarantee that the King will bring her out of the kitchen. Quin has little support from the Council, and they will have no idea how much Quin brought to your brother's coffers."
"She is only one half-blood," Justis pointed out. "Are you willing to divide the Council over this?"
"You should ask yourself what is worth dividing the Council, if she is not," Gurnil snapped. "Aviia is no better than Fyris, if we treat the lowliest as they do. I recall the last healer we had, in Elabeth's time. He walked through the gate in disgust."
"I wouldn't mention that around my brother," Justis growled.
"Your brother's Red-Winged father caused it," Ordin snapped. "Or should I not mention that around you?"
"Treven is dead—he walked through the gate fifty turns past, need I remind you?" Justis said. "Camryn named Jurris his heir after that. There is no taint on him."
"Treven didn't walk through the gate. He was forced through," Ordin pointed out. "After he'd been caught dallying with Fyrisian women."
"He made no children with them," Justis said. "That has been proven."
"Hmmph," Gurnil sniffed. "That doesn't take into account what else he did that was never proven."
"Please, I've read the records. There's no need to call my brother's parentage into question. Treven was always angry that his brother Camryn was named heir. He made his bitterness known in—shall we say—unusual ways?"
"You're saying that Treven would have been a fit ruler?"
"No. I didn't say that," Justis held up a hand. "I'm saying that Camryn and Elabeth both agreed on Jurris being named Camryn's heir. If they'd been wrong, the Orb would have protested."
"How do we know it didn't?"
Justis blinked at Ordin's words.
* * *
"There's more than we suspected," High President Charkisul's chief of security, Melis Norwal, handed the chip recording to the President. "But still nothing regarding what they call Fyris. Nothing useful, anyway."
"We know they're not responsible for the poison waste. They've never had sufficient technology to produce it," Charkisul shook his head. "So where is it coming from?"
"We've only gotten a few mentions of Fyris, and there are no explanations and certainly no information," Chief Norwal said. "It's odd, too, that every time we attempt to place cameras and listening devices in that glass behemoth where they live, they stop working immediately. All we have is what we get after they arrive here."
"We're steered away from certain sections in their library, too," Charkisul agreed. "It's as if they're hiding something important, but what might it be?"
"Have the levels of the poison stabilized?"
"No, the levels continue to rise. It's odd that it should show up like this, when we know there's nothing on Siriaa to cause it. There's some speculation that cancers may become widespread as the toxic levels increase."
"What about the girl? Don't you think it's odd that she hasn't been revealed until now? Why would they come to us—pay our physicians for medical treatment—when that was available to them? You'll hear references that the girl is a half-blood, High President," Melis nodded toward the chip. "As well as discussion on one in their past caught dallying with Fyrisian women. I can only assume that the term Fyrisian is connected to Fyris, whatever that means."
"I'll listen, but I'll have my interpreter with me, in case I miss anything," Edden agreed. "I'm surprised the girl can speak our language as fluently as she does. Can you explain that?"
"We know the Avii are special; you only have to see their wings to know that. How many of our children draw pictures of them and wish to fly as they do?"
Edden Charkisul sighed and shook his head. "Perhaps it's no different from any other evolution. Who knows why they grew wings and we didn't? Somewhere, and for some reason, it was necessary for them to do so."
"And we suspect they know where the poison originates, and they aren't telling us."
"The girl is underage; not much older than my Berel. We can't question her, and I don't wish to upset her, anyway. She healed my boy."
"Listen to that," Melis gestured toward the chip again. "They say she won't be paid. The Avii King will keep the funds. If we could ask a few gentle questions, perhaps?"
"What if it places her in danger, or they refuse her services if we ask again? We have a guarantee from the Avii healer that should Berel sicken again, they will bring her back. I have to rely on their word."
"That still brings us no closer to a solution regarding the poison, or where to find it."
"I hope we can contain it when we do find it," the High President nodded.
"If we can't, we're in trouble," Melis agreed.
* * *
"Young one, I am Melis Norwal," he introduced himself as he led me away from the rooms I'd been given. Two others followed us—they'd been standing outside my door for hours while I slept.
"Where are we going?" I replied in his language, although I already knew; dinner waited. He wanted to ask questions so badly he almost burst with the desire of it. He wanted to know what Fyris meant, and a cold, steady terror coursed through me. The poison had already reached Kondar's shores.
"Dinner with the High President," Melis responded. "He wishes to thank you for healing his son. While Berel is still too weak to sit with us, he also extends his gratitude. He says he can't recall feeling as good as he does now."
Melis Norwal was neither as tall as Justis, nor as handsome. Nevertheless, their positions were similar. He had dark hair, cropped close to his head, green eyes that were alert to all about him, a steady hand and a lengthy stride. He was a fit guard for the High President.
"His father loves him. That's why I healed him," I said with a shrug. "I'm glad he feels better."
* * *
Dinner was a trying ordeal. I was served vegetables, finely cooked. The food was not the difficulty. Conversation between the High President, Ordin and Gurnil was stilted at best, while Justis ate determinedly and spoke little. Melis, like Justis, said little, choosing to watch Justis with a wary eye.
He knew Justis was dangerous.
He also knew that Justis was brother to Jurris, King of the Avii.
It was the same political dance I'd seen so many times in Lironis between nobles, the inner circle, the King and his sons. The Kondari were peaceful enough, and had no current thoughts of attacking the Avii. If the poison became worse, and their land sickened as Fyris did, that peaceful notion might slip away in favor of gaining useful information.
King Tamblin had no idea what he would face when his ships sailed away from Fyris' northern shore. He may have held hopes of finding lands better off than his, but his options were dwindling. I f
elt sure I would feel the poison seeping into Kondar if I were allowed to set foot upon its soil.
As it was, I'd only been allowed in high buildings since my arrival.
"Sir Melis," I said, breaking my silence and surprising those around me. "Might I ask a favor?" He, in turn, looked toward the High President.
"You may ask us for almost anything," the High President responded, as he turned to me and smiled.
"I wish to walk outside," I said, while Justis scowled at me.
"That will be arranged the moment dinner is finished," the High President agreed.
* * *
My shoes were off as I stood upon grass that had been treated with its own type of poison—such that weeds would not grow. Still, I felt the beginnings of the wrongness. The High President and Melis Norwal were right to be concerned. Fyris' infection would consume everything if it were not stopped.
"Do you wish to see the gardens?" the High President asked.
"No, thank you," I said. "The grass is enough."
We stood in a courtyard outside the President's palace. His home was a square building, constructed of glass and metal. During the day, sunlight would reflect off every surface. At night, Siriaa's moons and clouds were mirrored in its surface. I watched as clouds moved across the back of it, fascinated that an entire building might be used as a mirror.
"We taught them how to make glass," Gurnil's hand dropped to my shoulder as I blinked at the construction the High President called home. "Long ago."
"Your glass art is still the best—we cannot come close to it," the High President said, coming to stand on my other side. He had no idea that far to the south, Fyrisians had no idea how to make proper glass. What they had was from Aviia, and that door was now closed.
I had questions I dared not ask. First among them was how much had the Avii taught the Kondari before the Kondari surpassed their teachers. "We found the Avii by accident, long ago," the High President chuckled. "We'd gotten adept at sailing, and decided to see how far we might go. On our third attempt, we found Avii castle. We'd never seen anything such as that, and our history books tell us the captain of the vessel stared in wonder as people such as he, equipped with wings, flew to the deck of his ship."
"They discovered Yokaru not long after. That is the continent far to Aviia's west," Gurnil informed me. "While Yokaru is not as advanced as Kondar, there is trade between the two lands."
"Yokaru and Kondar were once a single continent," Melis explained. "They broke apart when the planet was in its infancy. Tests prove that the people there are connected through their ancestry to ours. While many of their customs are strange, we come from the same people. They know this, too, and consider us their family."
How wondrous was that—to find family missing for turns uncounted? I sighed. "How fortunate you are," I mumbled.
"Fortunate, indeed. It improved trade relations immediately, once that fact was recognized," the High President agreed. "They often supply raw materials for our manufacturing concerns, and they in turn purchase finished goods or trade for technology."
"We must leave soon," Justis reminded us.
"Yes. Of course," the High President acknowledged.
* * *
"Take tomorrow off and visit Master Ordin in the afternoon," Gurnil said, once we reached the Library. The return trip to Aviia was much like the one that had taken us to Kondar, but it was late and I wanted to sleep. "He says he wishes to examine your pin feathers and decide whether they are ready to roll off."
I nodded, covering a yawn.
"Quin, you did a wondrous thing, and I realize you'll receive little thanks here for it. Never forget that Ordin and I understand the magnitude of it, and we will record it in our personal histories."
"Might I have parchment and pens?" I asked hesitantly. I'd never considered making a personal history, but Gurnil had just sown the seeds of it.
"I will supply them tomorrow. Go to bed, you're exhausted."
"Thank you, Master Gurnil." I turned and headed toward my bedroom.
* * *
Dena had come to Master Ordin for a burn to her fingers. I found her inside his workroom when I arrived for my appointment the following afternoon.
"Quin," she smiled, pleased to see me for some odd reason.
"May I?" I held out my hand.
Surprised, she placed her burned fingers in my outstretched hand. It was a simple fix and there was no scar left behind when I released her hand.
"That's—thank you," she breathed. "Burns are always the worst."
"I still say take the rest of the day off and report to Master Barth tomorrow," Ordin nodded at Dena. "Your shift was almost over, anyway."
"You're welcome," I said, giving Dena a nod as well. She almost skipped out of Master Ordin's workroom—the burn had blistered and looked painful to me. No trace of it, or the pain accompanying it, had remained.
"Quin, remove your cape and I'll look at your pin feathers," Ordin made a circle with his fingers, indicating that I should turn around. I removed the cape first, then turned so he could examine my wing nubs.
"Definitely getting longer," he acknowledged. "They're down past your knees, now."
They were—I'd checked in the mirror after my shower. I'd begun washing them, too, although they were tender to the touch.
"Yes," Ordin grunted, touching my left nub with practiced fingers. "This won't be comfortable, but it must be done," he said and rolled off the first pinfeather. I gasped at the pain of it.
Ordin gave me the bitter brew for pain after a while and continued working. Tears came to my eyes several times, and I'm not sure I would have made it through the ordeal had Daragar not arrived.
I blinked at the tall Larentii through a pain-filled haze. "I will remedy this," he said before Ordin could stop him. Touching a long, blue finger to my forehead, I was rendered unconscious while Ordin continued his work.
* * *
"I can only see the barest hint, but there is no precedent for it," Ordin accepted a cup of wine from Gurnil.
"What do you mean? What color are they?"
"I saw white. With silver, gold and copper, like the threads in her hair. I don't know what to make of it." Ordin gulped half his wine before shaking his head in confusion. "Daragar transported her to her bed afterward."
"I find it astounding that the Larentii has taken such an interest in her, although you and I find her just as fascinating."
"Certainly something we've never seen. No half-blood has ever had talent."
"We can't say that with absolute conviction—Fyris kills them as soon as they learn what they are, or sends them here, where Jurris does the same."
"Except for Quin," Ordin pointed out. "I wonder that she was allowed to live, even with the physician there calling her nubs bone spurs and cutting them away every turn. How she suffered that abuse in silence, I can never guess."
"The physician saved her life, but at great cost," Gurnil poured more wine for Ordin, who held out his empty cup. "Her wings should have grown eight turns earlier, in my estimation."
"Fyris had no idea what they had, or they'd never have sent her here," Ordin said. "If they had, they'd have asked to ransom her."
"Jurris never sent a reply to the letter they sent."
"They should know better than to expect a reply. They severed ties with Elabeth and Camryn's deaths. No, I'm not saying they're all responsible, or that they should all suffer for it. Tamblin will never be brought to justice, because of the First Ordinance."
"Yet half-bloods don't fall under the First Ordinance. Unfortunate, wouldn't you say?" Gurnil shook his head. "We can kill them as readily as Fyris can."
"Fyris kills whenever it wants," Ordin responded. "Tamblin has proven that repeatedly."
* * *
I overheard much of their conversation. Again, the First Ordinance had been mentioned. Ordin and Gurnil were familiar with it, but in all my searching in the Library, I hadn't come across a single book containing that phrase.
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No books on Fyris were shelved there, either, which troubled me. The information I held was from the book in my old storeroom inside Tamblin's castle, and many pages had been ripped away from it.
Fyris was a turnip-shaped land south of Kondar, and as there were no other continents listed in the book farther south, I had no idea if any ships, sailing or flying, had ever gone past Fyris' shores and not known of it.
I was reading an accounting written by a glassmaker when Gurnil came looking for me later. I'd propped myself against the headboard of my narrow bed, taking care that my sore wings didn't press against the wood.
"Have you tried to move them? Without your hands?" Gurnil offered a sympathetic smile.
"No, Master Gurnil."
"Perhaps we should work on that. Ordin sent a message to Barth, saying you wouldn't be back to work in the kitchen for two more days. Pinfeather days are sore days. Would you like your evening meal served here, or would you prefer to come with me to the dining hall?"
"Do you have geography books? For Fyris?" I asked.
"There are some in my personal library. Come in the morning, and I'll let you borrow one or two of them."
"Thank you," my words tumbled out in a breathless rush. I'd been terrified that they'd be withheld—if they existed at all. "All the geography books in Fyris have pages torn out."
"Working to rip our existence from their lives?" Gurnil snorted after his question. He already knew the answer, so I didn't reply. I did slide off the bed, however, and followed him to the Guild Masters' dining hall.
* * *
I had breakfast with Master Ordin the following morning—he'd joined us for dinner the night before and asked that I come to his study for my morning meal, as he had books on anatomy that he wanted me to read.
Eager to get my hands on anything of that nature, I'd quickly agreed to share a meal with him. Gurnil promised the geography books and writing supplies when I returned from breakfast with Ordin, and my day was happily planned out. Medicine and geography; such diverse and fascinating subjects.
"Follow me," Gurnil said after I'd laid the medical books on my bed and went in search of geography. "I don't allow many inside my personal library," he added.
Finder: First Ordinance, Book One Page 14
