"How are they hiding information from us?" Bel asked. I could tell he'd used his warlock gift to search for clues, but hadn't found anything.
Terrett made a growl in his throat.
Another meeting was held, once we arrived at our palace after visiting Reetha's parents. The agents were included, as they were before. Only Jayna wasn't present—she was sleeping already.
"They wouldn't," I turned to Terrett in alarm.
He laced my fingers in his and shook his head—he couldn't say for sure, either, but on at least one occasion, a Sirenali child had been sold to hide criminal activity.
"What are you talking about?" Pellen demanded.
"Terrett's race," Sal said. "He has a special talent for hiding activity from the powerful, so he was sold as a child to criminals, who cut out his tongue to prevent him from speaking."
"That's barbaric," Mell declared.
"We worry that more of his race may be here," Kaldill said. "Possibly held against their will and used for the same purpose—to hide criminal activity."
"Why would the sweet shop be hidden?" Jeslin pointed his question toward Sal.
"That's what we need to find out—it may be the place where targets are marked and taken. If so, then a Sirenali's presence would be more than justified."
"I know this is the capital city, but what about other cities?" I asked.
"There are others, but this is where the crime families make their homes," Pellen replied. He raked a hand through dark hair peppered with silver—he was eldest of the agents present and it showed. "All the manufacturing is done elsewhere—they don't want the stink of their factories to spoil the air in Der'Vek. Farming is done between cities, most of it near the equator so crops may be grown year-round."
"All ASD agents on the planet are here in Der'Vek," Jeslin added. "To watch the crime families."
"Who runs the other cities?" I asked. Someone had to, and I couldn't imagine they'd turn that task over to the normal population.
"Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, nieces and nephews," Pellen shrugged. "They're being groomed to take over here, should the need arise."
"It's government by a council of criminals," Mell offered. "They call themselves the Grand Coalition. Each member has an equal vote, which is as close to a democracy as they'll ever get."
"Will we be a part of that?" I asked.
"We have to live here three years and then be invited to join the lowest tier. They'll watch us between now and then," Kaldill explained.
This is confusingly fucked, Terrett informed me. I'd never heard him use profanity before, but he was correct.
You're right, I agreed. I think there's more going on than they suspect, and we haven't gotten any real information, yet.
Only living in one city equates to wearing blinders, Terrett returned. They have no idea what's going on. This is where the criminals live. Their work goes on elsewhere.
I think the same.
I know this—I've lived among them most of my life, Terrett snorted. I know how they think, their often twisted idea of pleasure, their greed—all of it.
I wish I could fold space, I replied. You and I would do our own investigation.
We must convince them, Terrett said. I do not wish to place you in danger. Promise me that you will never go out alone. That will frighten me more than I have ever been.
I'll try, I closed my eyes for a moment. Terrett couldn't hide his concern—it soaked from his skin into mine as he gripped my hand tighter. Before I realized it, my head was on his shoulder and I was huddling into his warmth.
I didn't mean to scare you, he soothed. His hand disentangled from mine and his arms went around me. I felt embarrassed that the others were watching, but I closed my eyes tightly and struggled to ignore them.
My love, is everything all right? Kaldill asked gently.
I scared myself, mostly, I replied. If I'd spoken aloud, my voice would have trembled.
"We will take this up again tomorrow," Sal announced and ushered the agents out of Kaldill's suite.
"Quinnie?" Yanzi reached Terrett and me first.
"I'm all right," I croaked, pulling away from Terrett's shoulder.
We worry that there is more going on than the agents think, Terrett sent blanket mindspeech.
"Terrett knows criminals—he's been forced to live among them most of his life," I mumbled. "That's why we think that Der'Vek isn't the only problem."
"Don't shit where you eat," Bel Erland nodded his head. "That's one of Gran's phrases, but it fits."
"You think that missing people is only scratching the surface?" Lafe asked. He didn't sound skeptical—he sounded convinced.
"Yes," I said. Suddenly, I felt weary. It was quite late and breakfast and another training session were scheduled early in the morning.
"We still need to visit the sweet shop," Sal said. He was right—it was a place to start and all we had at the moment.
"It will be a hard winter," Daragar announced as he materialized. His words sounded prophetic to me. I dipped my chin to acknowledge his truth.
* * *
Zephili
"Any word from Bleek?" Vardil examined his new body in the mirror.
His assistant, Dorgus, shook his head. "Nothing today, my Lord," he replied. "You look quite fine, Lord Vardil. You can walk down the streets of any of Zephili's cities and be admired."
"You think so?" Vardil preened a bit before the mirror.
"Most certainly. May I interest you in a late meal? Transferences can be draining, or so Deris claims."
"A meal sounds quite appealing. Dress me and have food delivered to my suite."
"As you require, my Lord."
"Dorgus, do you think there's a way to keep this body—or at least this look?" Vardil was back to preening. "This is the finest, handsomest body I've ever had."
"I'll look into it, my Lord."
* * *
Bleek
Barc was six when the disease came. That was nearly eight sun-turns ago. The disease ravaged his body for two sun-turns before he was placed in stasis—it would have killed him, otherwise. In stasis, he still looks eight. If he were wakened, he would have only an eight-year-old's memories.
So much has happened since he was placed in stasis and locked in a spelled glass coffin by Deris and his sister, Daris. At times, I worry that I will die, leaving Barc to this fate forever—lying still within a glass coffin, waiting to be awakened with power so he might breath his last breaths alone and unloved.
My soul belongs to Vardil Cayetes. Not only in payment for keeping my son alive; the deeds I've performed in service to Cayetes ensures that his grip on me—and my fate—remains tight.
I no longer recognize the Blevakian in the mirror; I have traveled so far from what I was. I only see a murderer, now. Someone my child would not be proud of.
I have no choice, I keep telling myself before turning back to Cayetes' latest demand. I had three more worlds to examine. Three more newly arrived communities of farmers to research.
I had an idea what Cayetes planned for the world found guilty of taking what he thought was his—but that had caused so much trouble the first time, I wondered that he was considering the same again.
"Not my concern," I muttered to myself.
"Did you say something, Commander?" Whip asked.
"No, Whip, just thinking aloud."
* * *
Quin
My breakfast was a fruit omelet with juice; my training session included Jayna, which surprised me. I hadn't had time to ask Sal about her training, thinking that perhaps Lafe would train her if I asked.
Instead, Sal had invited her and she'd been overjoyed to accept.
That's when I learned that for my training, another Sursee would join us every day. Caylon Black arrived, offered Sal a brief nod and proceeded to take over my training.
"Defensive position," Sursee Caylon barked and I immediately complied. He came at me, peppering me with blows.
&
nbsp; I was able to block most of them.
"Thank you, Sursee," I bowed low to him when the lesson was over.
"Tomorrow," he replied, dipping his chin slightly in reply.
* * *
"I told you she was learning quickly, Caylon," Sal grinned and offered Caylon a cup of Falchani black tea.
"Faster than I imagined," Caylon nodded. "That will work well for her, since her bones are more fragile than most humanoids. In a few weeks, I'll ask Torevik to come, just to see how she reacts to a much taller opponent."
"Caylon, I hope you don't mind staying," Kaldill arrived in the kitchen, interrupting his and Sal's conversation. "We've received an invitation to stay with the Churg family—for the next month."
Chapter 6
Quin
"The Churg family?" My confusion must have been evident—Justis pulled me against him as the news was given to us.
"I thought they'd drop by unannounced and take a look, then leave," Sal said. "I never considered that we'd be invited to spend time with them."
"It's a command, disguised as an invitation," Bel said. "On their turf. Their servants, too, unless we wish to take a personal servant. Quin, you can take Jayna if you want; you'll be known in that household as Quin BlackWing."
"When are we expected?" Lafe asked.
"Tomorrow. They're sending vehicles so we'll pack tonight, after we visit the sweet shop."
"I think only a few should go to the shop," Sal said. "Quin, Terrett, Yanzi and I."
"Wait," Justis held up a hand.
"No, he's right," Kaldill nodded. "Only a few. It won't do for all of us to crowd in."
"Then I'll wait in the car," Justis huffed, pulling me tighter against his chest.
"I'll wait with you," Caylon nodded. "Pellen can drive us."
* * *
More than an hour later, Pellen parked the car near the sweet shop. I'd expected the business to be small.
It was far from small.
"This is owned by one of the minor families—second tier," Pellen explained as I gaped at the building that took up a city block. "There's a bakery, a chocolate-making section and a candies section, with an attached restaurant and shop."
"The poor section we visited can't afford this, can they?" Justis said.
"No," Pellen replied. "But their sons and daughters work here, as you've likely guessed. The prettier ones. Uniforms are provided, of course—they can't afford that, either. The higher-skilled workers are given better allowances to spend as they like. Those from the slums in low-skilled positions can't hope for something this nice."
I recalled a time when I'd never tasted sweets—they were reserved for better and higher born. Justis' face was grim as he turned his gaze briefly on me. I clamped my wings tighter to my back, distressed by the memory of my past.
"You not worry," Yanzi pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I missed my lighter hair at times such as these. He'd never seen the real colors of it.
"Come," Sal nodded to Terrett, Yanzi and me. We climbed out of the car and walked across the street.
A bell rang over the shop door when we walked inside. I'd been to Niff's in Casino City, once, where sweets crowded behind glass displays, each type competing with its neighbor to draw a customer's gaze.
This shop rivaled that image. Someone walked in behind us and went straight to the counter.
"These are for Master Barstle," the clerk lifted boxes from behind the counter. I watched as Sal and Yanzi went perfectly still for a moment, before turning my attention to the boxes in question.
Yanzi and Sal learned what they knew by scent; I learned it with my gift.
I just didn't have a name for it, yet.
Yanzi and Sal, though—they knew.
I also knew that nothing else in the shop contained what those boxes contained. Our mystery had just deepened, and I had no idea what to do about it.
"May I help you?" The clerk—a pretty girl of perhaps sixteen, asked after the first customer left the shop with the boxes he'd been given.
"We'd like a table in the restaurant, please," Sal said, his voice smooth and a smile lighting his face.
"Of course. I'll call for someone to take you in."
A young man arrived moments after she called; he led us through a wide doorway and into the restaurant, which specialized in sandwiches, soups and the sweets produced onsite.
Order dessert, Sal instructed. Yanzi, the restrooms are nearby. Do you think you can change and look around without being noticed? If not, I'll come back later with Caylon.
I can, Yanzi agreed. Eat slow. I be back.
"He'll have the redberry cake," Sal ordered for Yanzi. I had a chocolate fudge cake with vanilla ice cream, while Terrett ordered a slice of caramel swirl cake.
It's all right—the food, I said, when it was set in front of us. Yanzi still wasn't back, but our waiter didn't say anything.
Yanzi was back before we finished and ate swiftly, demolishing his dessert in very little time. Mine was good, but what I'd gotten at Niff's was better.
Sal paid, producing a small, gold coin to hand to the waiter.
He smiled and went to put the money away while we gathered coats and hats. "Come again," the clerk in the shop said as we walked out the door.
Sal didn't say anything until we were in the car and moving away from the shop. "What the bloody, fucking hell is drakus seed doing on Vic'Law?" he cursed.
* * *
"We had no idea," Pellen said. I wondered whether our scheduled visit with the Churg Family would put a crimp in our investigation.
We hadn't heard everything yet, however.
"I see what hiding those at shop," Yanzi volunteered. "I made, not born," he began. "Sirenali at shop—also made, not born. He look—he look like Terrett, when Terrett change."
It was my turn to grip Terrett's hand—he was growling low in his throat again. "How old?" Kaldill asked, voicing my question aloud.
"Half-grown," Yanzi described the Sirenali. "Not speak."
"Probably can't," Justis huffed. "This is impossible. How many do you think they can make?"
"If this first batch—all same age," Yanzi shrugged. "That how it was for me; they make many. Sell. Kill some, too."
"I thought drakus seed—and all the plants were destroyed," Pellen insisted.
"Hmmph," Yanzi snorted. Terrett nodded once at Yanzi.
"We should inform Kooper," Kaldill suggested.
I watched Pellen's face—he'd missed this and felt he was responsible. While drakus seed hadn't been seen during his lifetime, he knew the history of it. He imagined that Kooper would accost him for missing the information, too. After all, if the drug were in the hands of the criminals on Vic'Law, then it could be transported elsewhere.
Sal, Justis and Pellen went to find Caylon the moment we arrived at our palace; I found Berel waiting for me. "Quin, we have a class to teach, then we have to pack," Berel took my hand.
"Yes," I sighed. "Let's find Jayna."
* * *
The Churg-owned hovercars arrived after breakfast the following morning. We were transported into the hills overlooking most of Der'Vek, which culminated in a view of one of Vic'Law's oceans.
"Don't forget, you're with us," I reassured Jayna, although I felt queasy at the prospect of living with a crime family, whose sole purpose in inviting us was to place us under the closest of scrutiny.
Pellen accompanied us as Kaldill's personal servant; Mell, Jayna and Jeslin would fetch and carry for everyone else. The rest of the staff stayed behind at our palace.
We saw the Churg family holdings from the air—it looked like a small city, with numerous buildings, pools and gardens surrounding an enormous palace.
Eventually, the car settled on the stone patio at the back of the palace. Another car, carrying our bags, landed behind us.
Two men waited for us at the foot of white marble steps. "Welcome to the Churg estate," one of them said, sweeping out his hand in a grand gesture. "Master Churg
invites you to join him for dinner tonight at eight bells. Nerr will take you to your quarters, and provide any assistance you may need to settle in."
I was hoping we'd have a separate place to stay, Justis' mental voice was dry.
Already I hate this, Terrett informed me.
This fucked, Yanzi declared.
"Extend our gratitude to Master Churg for his invitation; we look forward to dining with him this evening," Kaldill responded. This was the Elf King, who could outclass anyone with style and grace. I didn't miss the hardness in his eyes, however. Churg would be under our scrutiny, just as we were under his.
* * *
Jayna and Mell were given a room to share, as were Pellen and Jeslin near the suites in our wing of the palace. I was grateful none of the Churg family was quartered nearby—so far, we hadn't seen any of them.
The palace was so huge, it really wasn't a surprise that we'd only seen servants. Clothing I'd never thought to wear hung inside the closet adjoining my bath; the suite I'd been given was larger than the one I had at our mansion in Der'Vek.
Churg servants had been instructed not to speak to us unless we asked a direct question, but the two who unpacked my things couldn't help staring at my wings. With my gift, I understood that they were bursting with curiosity, and I imagined that Justis was receiving similar treatment inside his suite, which lay across the hall.
"Quin?" Justis appeared in my doorway, as if he'd been called. Likely it was to escape the scrutiny of the servants.
Where is Kaldill? I asked.
"Come down the hall with me," Justis held out a hand. I moved toward him and allowed his hand to grasp mine. His hand and fingers were warm and reassuring as they enveloped mine.
Both servants inside my suite sighed as we left—I heard the sound easily as Justis and I walked away.
Kaldill wouldn't shield our wings from those who owned and ran Vic'Law; our race and photographs had been included in the final application. Berel joined us as we walked along the hall; Yanzi and Terrett caught up with us as well.
We found Kaldill, Sal, Lafe, Bel and Caylon inside Kaldill's suite. "I've asked for lunch to be delivered here," Kaldill informed us. As the designated head of our family, Kaldill received the largest suite, just as he'd done at our palace.
BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3 Page 8
