BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3

by Connie Suttle

  "Perhaps we should provide solar-powered camping stoves," Sal mused. "They'll serve two purposes—heat and a cooking surface."

  "Tents?" Berel asked. "If Father contacts outdoor recreation companies, they may be able to supply most of what we need, including powdered milk and water purification canisters."

  "What about the fighting in Der'Vek?" Bryan asked.

  "They're lobbing small explosives, with a few minor skirmishes between private armies at the moment," Caylon said. "Salidar and I spent an hour there yesterday, watching. Every family compound has been hit in some way—a few families have warlocks protecting the vital portions of their homes, but these warlocks aren't the most powerful."

  "We should be grateful for that," Bel said. "The good ones cost too much."

  "Bleek?" I turned to him.

  "Quin?" His dark eyes became wary.

  "Who is Cayetes' warlock?"

  Bel Erland drew in a breath—this was news he and his father had searched for—I could see it easily in him.

  "He has two," Bleek sighed. "Twins. Deris and Daris."

  "No," Bel Erland breathed.

  * * *

  Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "What do you mean, they're distant relatives to me?" I snapped.

  "Well, to Wylend—your grandfather, and your father, too," Erland winced. "Several times removed. They were notified when Wylend abdicated, putting our son on the throne."

  "So you're saying that those two are in line for the throne—if everybody else dies?"

  "You're in line for the throne before they are," Erland offered.

  "Right. What the hell are they plotting? Is that what Cayetes promised them if they did this illegal shit for him?"

  "I have no idea whether Cayetes promised them anything, except a mountain of money plus living expenses," Erland spoke evenly in an attempt to calm me down.

  "I swear, if they attempt a coup against Rylend," I hissed.

  "He can protect himself, remember? He doesn't need his mother swooping in for the likes of those two."

  "What are their levels?" I asked.

  "To perform a transference, you must be level three or higher. It's my guess that at least one of them may be a level four. Wylend tested both when they were young."

  "I don't like this," I muttered. My arms were crossed tightly over my chest as I gazed out the arboretum windows. Yes, I felt defensive. How could I not? Cayetes could destroy everything, and I was only now learning that distant relatives could be helping to accomplish that.

  "Do you think they're helping to hide him? Is that possible?" I whirled to face Erland again.

  "There is a small possibility that they've found a way to amplify Cayetes' Sirenali's talents," he frowned after mulling my question for a moment. "It would be draining, so if they've found a way, one of them will have to spend most of their talent and power on that, while the other focuses on the transferences and anything else Cayetes wants."

  "And you're telling me that Ry can take care of himself," I tossed up a hand. "If they come at him with enhanced Sirenali, who is going to see them coming?"

  "That means they'll have to amass a great enough fortune to afford to launch a coup, and take the Sirenali with them when they leave Cayetes. He's not going to let that happen as long as he's alive, you know."

  "How will he stop them?" I almost shouted.

  "If I know Cayetes, he has another card up his sleeve," Erland huffed. "Let me look into this. Bleek reported what he knew. Perhaps he didn't know everything."

  "You think Cayetes has something—or someone—to hold over their heads? What if it or they go rogue, too?"

  "We have to find out what it is, first, before we can make any assumptions," Erland soothed.

  * * *

  Puntia

  "We couldn't get through the barrier around Mundia, my Lord," Deris said. "We have searched for Bleek as well, but we found nothing. If he were dead, we could locate his body by scrying. Perhaps he was destroyed and his ashes scattered. That could keep us from knowing his whereabouts."

  "What about the coffin?" Vardil demanded.

  Deris exchanged a swift glance with his sister, Daris. "We know where it is," Deris sighed. After all, they had no care for the child inside the coffin. Their only concern was what lay beneath the child's bed within the coffin.

  It had been sealed against them as well—Vardil had snapped the lock on right after they'd placed the boy inside. Only one could open the lock, and he held the words and voice necessary—unless they found the one who'd placed the spell on the lock to begin with.

  Deris and his sister knew how impossible that was; Marid of Belancour was dead—Cayetes had seen to that.

  "Well?" Vardil said, "Where is it, then?"

  "It lies in the dungeons of the glass castle on Le-Ath Veronis. It is my guess that they placed it there since they cannot remove the child or open the coffin."

  "Well, well," Vardil frowned. "Let me know if anyone moves it. If Bleek were alive, he'd have contacted me and gone after the coffin—he would never have left it in the hands of an enemy. The child can stay where he is forever. Continue to serve me and I will keep my bargain with you—to return what is yours when the time is right."

  He thinks we only want the jewels on the coffin. He means to take Karathia for himself, Daris muttered into Deris' mind.

  He cannot hold it. He will need us.

  We do not need him.

  We need him to get us there, Deris responded. We have time, sister. We will have our due.

  Just make sure your location spell for the coffin works; we cannot lose it, she warned.

  Never fear. The spell is strong.

  "Back to Mundia," Vardil said. "Why can't you get through? What sort of barrier?"

  "One placed by a witch or warlock, my Lord," Deris explained.

  "A stronger witch or warlock," Daris nodded.

  "You're fifth level," Vardil narrowed his eyes at Deris.

  "I am, but that doesn't mean I'm the strongest fifth level. Someone is keeping us out, after we attempted full force against it. You have an enemy, my Lord. One with a powerful warlock at his back."

  "BlackWing," Vardil muttered. "I want information," he shouted. "I want this BlackWing and I want him to die in front of me. I assume you can handle that much, can't you?" His gaze leveled on Deris.

  "Yes, my Lord. It will be as you say."

  * * *

  Quin

  Production of camp rations for the displaced of Der'Vek began the following day. Bel Erland, Yanzi and Berel had worked through the night, making contacts and placing emergency orders.

  After our training session that morning, Jayna and I, with help from Mell, Pellen and Jeslin, helped a small army of volunteer workers clear out an old warehouse and set it up to assemble meal packets.

  The initial packets would also include a health and hygiene packet, with soap, a comb, a small first-aid kit and other personal items.

  One section of our volunteers put other, larger packs together, which contained a tent and a camp stove.

  "I heard Caylon say that some are fishing for food while others search through the fields looking for anything left from the last harvest," Jayna informed me.

  "I worry that many may need medical attention," I said, although her words concerning the last harvest worried me. Berel said the growing of food was done near the equator. The short distance the refugees had traveled south of Der'Vek was still not close to the equator. I wanted to go there and see this for myself, in addition to healing those I could.

  "Please, don't place yourself in danger," Jayna lifted her eyes from the packet she was assembling.

  "Caylon and Sal went to Der'Vek. Someone can take me to the refugee camps," I asserted.

  "You'll exhaust yourself," Jayna lowered her eyes.

  "Lives are worth exhaustion," I said. "To me."

  "I'm worried," Jayna said. "About you."

  "I'll ask Daragar," I said. "If he is with
me, I should be fine."

  * * *

  Avii Castle

  Justis

  "It's become something of a novelty—like a museum piece," Gurnil said. "I suggest moving it into one of the locked cells or placing it in the library."

  We were discussing the glass coffin that lay where we'd left it after removing the boy. I learned only that morning that curious Avii were visiting the thing and poking about it. According to Ordin, it was covered with Avii hand and fingerprints already.

  "I say put it in a cell," Ordin suggested. "That way they can look without touching it. I'm concerned about the spell on it, and how it might react if one of ours gets, shall we say, creative in an attempt to open it."

  "You think somebody may try to break the thing?"

  "It has gold and jewel inlays about the edges of the base—what if they get curious to see whether more gold or jewels are in the bottom of it, beneath the silk bedding?"

  "I see your point," I agreed. "Very well, clean it up and place it in a cell. Ardis," I called out. "See that Gurnil and Ordin have access to a cell and help them lock that infernal coffin inside it."

  * * *

  Puntia

  "You have things to tell me?" Vardil narrowed his eyes at Whip, the only one to escape from the Killshot and evade his captors.

  "Strange things," Whip nodded. "Bleek probably should have killed the girl when she was dropped inside the ship, but he didn't."

  "What do you mean?" Vardil demanded.

  "I reported to you when the girl appeared suddenly. I erred when I failed to give you her description. I have her image on my comp-vid—I was able to take it with me in the escape pod." Whip pulled up the vid in question—he'd downloaded it from the ship's security system shortly after her arrival.

  He'd masturbated to the images, too, but he didn't intend to tell Vardil that.

  Whip's first clue that Vardil was furious was when he stood, dropped the comp-vid to the floor and then lifted his chair to fling it toward the door.

  "BlackWing is a woman," Vardil shouted. "Why didn't someone fucking tell me that?"

  * * *

  "Here is what we have from Vogeffa II," Dorgus placed a comp-vid in Vardil's hand. Dorgus worried about this comp-vid; Vardil had broken the one Whip brought earlier by tossing it on the floor. He'd then thrown his chair and anything else inside his suite he could lift.

  Vardil, still seething but more controlled, accepted the comp-vid and stared. "Before LaFranza was killed by Bleek, this one served as his assistant in the tattoo shop. I am beginning to believe that she is seeking vengeance for LaFranza's death."

  "Where did she get the money to build ships?" Vardil hissed. "We've seen four so far."

  "I only have a theory," Dorgus backed away discreetly.

  "What theory is that?"

  "That she has allied with other criminals, with you offered as the ultimate prize."

  Chapter 15

  Quin

  "My love, you may not be able to tend all who need help," Kaldill said. "I know you want to, but there are limits. Besides, you must be fully rested before you go."

  He was right. I didn't want him to be right, but he was. Perhaps this was why gods and godlings didn't interfere much of the time. Whom do you choose to help? My shoulders drooped and my wings drooped with them.

  "Will you take me tomorrow, then?" I pleaded.

  "I think several of us will go. Caylon will keep Jayna here to drill with the troops, but I imagine that most of the others will come with you—to ensure your safety."

  "Thank you," I sighed. I felt guilt for taking all of them away from duties or other plans, but something troubled me about the refugee camp.

  We'd be close enough for attack from the crime families left in Der'Vek, too, so we had to be as secretive as possible. While Kaldill would likely shield us, I was concerned for the scattered refugees, who'd be left behind and vulnerable to an attack.

  If the families bothered to fly over the camp, either themselves or by sending drones once the tents went up, they'd know someone was helping the refugees.

  Still, we couldn't leave them to starve or freeze to death, and it was easy to see that the crime families had no sympathy for any but themselves.

  "A helping hand can often do harm without intending to do so," Kaldill said softly.

  "Damned if you do, damned if you don't—that's what Gran says," Bel Erland nodded.

  * * *

  The morning brought bad news, just before we were scheduled to travel to the refugee camp. Caylon brought a comp-vid to me and set it on the table at my elbow while I had breakfast.

  "Cayetes works fast," Sal said.

  My photograph, with a wanted notice, had been posted on a site frequented by criminals. "Kooper sent this to me a few minutes ago," Caylon said, taking a seat at the end of the breakfast table. "He wants you bad—many would sell their own mothers for fifty-million Alliance credits."

  "You can't go to the refugee camps—people there will see you," Bel Erland pointed out. "That means they can sell information to anyone who asks, or report it to keep their lives if they're threatened. It's easy enough to shield us from outside eyes, but inside, especially if you're healing them," he shook his head.

  Breathing a troubled sigh, I turned back to the comp-vid. The image of me had been recorded while I was on Vogeffa II—that was easy to see. I was grateful Terrett wasn't visible—I worried about his safety—as well as mine.

  He it was, however, who came up with a temporary solution. Change her wings back to their original color while we're visiting the camp, Terrett suggested. I doubt any would know it to be her.

  "Terrett needs a disguise, too," I said. "I don't want him placed in danger because of me."

  He started to protest, but Kaldill agreed with me. "Quin will be herself when we visit the camps," Kaldill decreed. "Terrett will wear a disguise."

  * * *

  "Kaldill, his disguise must be permanent—until a time comes when he is no longer in danger from Cayetes," I said. I'd asked Daragar and Kaldill to meet with me before we went to the refugee camp.

  "But why?" Kaldill asked. "I don't understand."

  I didn't want to tell him what I knew, but Terrett's life could hang in the balance. "That image of me on the comp-vid—from that criminal site?"

  "What of it?"

  "That was recorded on Vogeffa II, while I was with LaFranza in Gungl. You don't see it—likely Terrett's image was cut off so only I would be shown. He stood beside me in the marketplace when that image was recorded. I didn't know—and those shopkeepers didn't know either—that the camera was there. That means Vardil Cayetes was spying on Gungl the whole time, from who knows how many vantage points."

  "But still," Kaldill argued.

  "No, you don't know what I do," I said, rustling my feathers. "Before Terrett was given to Marid of Belancour, he was enslaved by Vardil Cayetes."

  * * *

  Terrett

  "You will choose the image yourself, because it will be permanent until you and Quin are deemed safe," Kaldill informed me. "She will wear her BlackWing disguise to fool him and draw his attention—as long as we can keep her safe that way. When necessary, she will wear her white wings. You, on the other hand—Quin says you were standing beside her when that image was recorded—the one Cayetes has placed on the site with her bounty. We worry that your image was edited out, but Cayetes will also be searching for you."

  He was right, but perhaps not for all the reasons Cayetes would have for hunting me. I nodded my understanding. I will choose, I agreed. Something to my liking—and to Quin's liking.

  "Then send for her—you can choose together."

  * * *

  Quin

  His hair was longer; eyes dark, hair darker. Skin slightly darker as well. "He looks like someone from Wyyld II," Sal observed.

  Terrett grinned at me—he was taller, too.

  "New ID," Kaldill handed an identification chip to Daragar, who employed power to pl
ace it beneath the skin on Terrett's wrist.

  "Are we ready to go?" Sal asked.

  "I'm coming," Bleek elbowed his way into the crowd surrounding us.

  "You won't be so easy to hide, Master Blevakian," Daragar said.

  "I refuse to hide from Cayetes."

  "Suit yourself," Kaldill agreed. "Let's go."

  * * *

  Avendor

  "Liron! Where are you?" Wimla sounded desperate.

  "He's here." Someone walked through the trees carrying the boy. Someone tall, with light-brown hair and wearing a grin as Liron rode high on his shoulder.

  "Who are you?" Wimla demanded. "That is my son, the heir to the Avii throne, I'll have you know."

  "And that's my son carrying yours," another man stepped forward. "I named him Ashe when he was born. Most people refer to him as the Mighty Hand."

  "Well," Wimla huffed.

  "It's all right, Dad. She has no idea who we are. Liron does, though, don't you?" Ashe swung Liron off his shoulders while the boy squealed in delight.

  "Come on, it's time for dinner at the big house," Ashe said. "You'll be our guests tonight."

  * * *

  Quin

  My heart sank when we landed in the fields the refugees had chosen for their temporary homes. Yanzi and Sal knew it, too, by the scent.

  This was where they'd grown the drakus seed.

  "How much could they have harvested?" Caylon asked as people in the distance only now noticed our arrival. "Could any have been left behind?"

  "Not seed—they careful not to drop any," Yanzi whispered. "Roots—they grow again in spring if not stopped."

  "Drakus seed is worth more per ounce than gold or platinum," Sal breathed.

  "Is the food and tent drop ready?" Caylon turned to Bel Erland.

  "Yes," he nodded. We watched as people in the fields were gathering to walk in our direction—we'd appeared from nowhere, so I couldn't blame them for being suspicious.

  "You're sure none of it will drop on anybody's head?"

  "It's designed to float gently to the ground—where there's enough space for it to land," Bel grumbled. I could see he didn't appreciate Caylon's doubts.

  Without another word, we witnessed the drop—the sky above the camp was suddenly filled with floating food packs, and in between, the larger stove and tent crates. They couldn't have landed any better or caused more delight once the people learned what was inside, than if it had been planned for months. Shouts of joy could be heard everywhere as food packets were opened—the people were starving.