Finder: First Ordinance, Book One (9 page)

"Your heart is kind. Your father did everything he could to turn him against you."

"I know that. And he believed Father's poison to the last, I'm sure," Amlis sighed. "I have riders going to Vhoorth. I want Rodrik with me in Lironis. And I want to send Mirisa home. It will take a moon-turn for her father to send someone to fetch her, but I will not waste men or resources to send her back myself."

"Perhaps it will be wise to say that you will send for her from Lironis, once things are settled and your brother's affairs are resolved."

"Yes, that is sound advice," Amlis agreed. "We will string Mortin along; he's had his eye on the Queen's throne for Mirisa anyway. If I have need of him, he'll jump at the opportunity now."

"I knew you'd see reason," Hirill smiled. "And then, when we find an alternate match for you, we will inform her of such."

"Agreed."

"I'd truly like to see her face, when that news is delivered," Hirill chuckled.

"As would I. As it is, I would like to take Finder back with me as my page, but she is recovering from a beating at Mirisa's hands. The sow thought to take slight for Finder placing my clothing in a drawer."

"Jealous?"

"I have never seen it to such a degree."

"Then it is best that we do not cut her off now, and perhaps we should find a suitable replacement when we deliver the news later."

"Good idea." Amlis smiled for the first time all day. "I'll have Finder brought to Lironis as soon as Farin releases her from his care."

"Do so. She has been useful in the past, has she not?"

"Absolutely. I hope Mother has not disposed of her uniforms. She can wear those until red ones can be made."

"Ask that red ones be made here. There is time enough." Hirill rose from his chair.

"Hirill, I will make you first advisor," Amlis laughed.

* * *

"Finder, I plan to bring you to Lironis the moment Farin allows you to travel the distance," Amlis knelt next to my pallet inside the storeroom. He'd glanced around at my surroundings upon entering, blinking in confusion at the piles of castoffs and bits of pieces no one ever called for. Shaking it off, he'd settled in a crouch to talk to me. I'd been leaning against the wall while sitting on my straw-stuffed pallet, something he'd never slept upon, I was sure.

"I'm having a tailor brought in to make new uniforms—these with red jackets and blue pants. You'll wear those as my page. Heeth will travel with me in the interim, but you'll take his place and he'll return to my mother when the time comes. You'll look good in red, Finder."

I worked to keep from flinching when Amlis reached out to touch my cheek. Nodding, I let him know I understood—perhaps more than he might have guessed. "I'll have Mother bring the barber before you leave," Amlis stood and stretched. "We'll do this together, Finder. I'll never ignore your warnings again." I watched him walk out of my storeroom, hands in pockets and stepping happily.

Chapter 7
 

Two days later, Amlis rode out. Rodrik would catch up to him somewhere on the road and I imagined that the six who'd survived our trip north would again be following Rodrik. Rath, it was decided, would come to Vhrist and oversee the shipbuilding, at Amlis' request. There was no sense in angering the King just as you'd been named Heir, after all.

I spent many an afternoon wondering how things might work out and what Yevil thought and planned to do. I knew (whether anyone else did), that Yevil had a hand in Timblor's death. Timblor was no innocent, but his betrayal and death left a sour taste in my mouth.

Farin, too, visited every other day or so, to check on my progress. He was also interested in my nubs and examined them regularly. "Fascinating," he muttered, touching them. "Nearly a hand's width long, now."

I had no idea what he meant and was grateful for the gathered backs of blouses. When a tailor came to measure me, Farin made sure to be there and explained what kind of shirts and jackets I would require to accommodate the nubs. Omina was absent most of the time, and Mirisa had done a near about-face, treating everyone in an almost civil manner. Perhaps with Amlis gone her rages quieted, but I was distrustful of her and would always be.

Much of my recovery time was spent in Tamblin's old library, reading books and hoping to find useful information. I found new things, but there was nothing to fill in the gaps of missing pages. I kept a book near my elbow at all times, filled with illustrations in case anyone came looking for me. They did, but not for any reason I ever imagined.

"Girl, there's a woman at the kitchen servants' door, asking to see you." Farin stood in the doorway to Tamblin's old study, giving me a puzzled frown. Looking up from my book, I shut it immediately and stood. "She has a sickly babe and refuses to allow me to look at it," Farin informed me as we wound our way through Omina's palace. I could tell that the woman's refusal to allow the best physician in Vhrist to look at her child annoyed him, but he wasn't saying it.

The woman I recognized immediately upon arriving in the kitchen—someone had allowed her inside so the baby wouldn't be exposed to the light rain outside. She was the one I'd helped in Sofi's shop.

The moment she saw me, she sobbed and held the child out to me while Farin's frown deepened. There was no help for it—she refused to allow Farin near and he likely wouldn't be able to help her anyway. I took the baby from her outstretched hands and began.

The child nursed before leaving the palace and the woman might have continued thanking me if I'd stayed. Instead, I turned on my heel and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Farin behind. Someone offered the mother tea and a little food, so she was eating while the child did. I slipped away as quietly as I could, hoping that Farin knew to keep his mouth shut.

* * *

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Farin stood inside Sofi's tailor shop the following afternoon, staring at Yissy, who appeared healthy and smiling. Hair was beginning to grow atop a wispy head and there was color in her cheeks as she grinned mischievously at Farin.

"Not at all," Sofi agreed. "Yissy would have died. Many others have, of the same sickness," she said.

"Are you sure the girl didn't have another ailment? Something she would have recovered from on her own?"

"I'm sure, Master Healer. Two physicians in the city said Yissy had the wasting disease and charged me for looking at her. Then that silent girl walks into my shop, hugs Yissy for a while and Yissy walks away whole. I brought in three others, and they were taken care of when the girl returned for the trousers I'd sewn for her."

"She's scheduled to return to Lironis in two days," Farin mused, forcing a gasp from Sofi. "You have something to say, young woman?" Farin turned back to her.

"I was hoping that she'd stay—there are others who wish to come to her," Sofi held out a hand, her brown eyes pleading.

"I'm afraid Amlis has priority, my dear," Farin rose. "Thank you for speaking with me." He walked out of Sofi's shop, his thoughts turning swiftly in his head.

* * *

"We must draft another letter," Farin stepped inside Omina's private study. Her eyes were red from weeping for Timblor, Farin knew, but this was too important to wait.

"Why? They haven't replied to the last one." Omina wiped her eyes with a lace kerchief.

"We didn't have information then that we do now. Rath will arrive tomorrow. The three of us will sit down and write a new one. Amlis may not get the page he desires, Omina, but Fyris might gain new life if we act quickly."

* * *

The incident with the baby disturbed me, and there were several inside the palace kitchen who'd witnessed what I'd done. Sneaking inside Tamblin's deserted study to read more, I found myself hoping that news of this growing ability did not follow me to Lironis. At least the child had a chance to live, now. She wouldn't have if a desperate mother hadn't brought her to me. Sighing at the strange course my life had taken, I opened a book and began to read.

Three hours before dawn, I made my way toward my pallet. Perhaps it was fate or exhaustion. Regardless, I was unaware of their presence until a filthy bag was shoved over my head just outside my storage room, and although I kicked as viciously as I could and flailed against large hands that held my arms and legs while another clamped over my bag-covered mouth, it was to no avail. Someone was kidnapping me and I was powerless against them. I might have been frightened, but once I was carried out into night air, there came a blow to the head and I knew nothing for several hours.

My belly roiled when I woke, the bag still tied over my head and my hands and feet bound securely. At first, I thought dizziness made the bench beneath me rise and fall, but that was not the case. I'd been loaded onto a ship after my abduction and now we rode the sea. Had we still been in the harbor, I would have heard the seabirds calling. There were none that I could hear this far out and as I could see nothing from inside the bag, I had no idea where I was being taken.

"The girlie's awake," I heard someone call out. They'd been watching for wakefulness. At least someone had.

"Shet yer eyes, the light'll blind ye elsewise," a voice commanded. I shut my eyes as the bag was jerked off my head. Someone drew in a gasping breath but said nothing as I struggled against the pain of the light. When I could open my eyes without tears blinding me, I discovered why. The sailor whose cracked ankle I'd repaired stared at me in dismay. Behind him were six others, all staring as well. One of them had spoken, while the one I recognized shook his head.

"You will not touch her," he commanded and the others backed away. Had they been planning to take me while I lay bound and helpless? The thought made me want to weep real tears and not those produced by the blindingly bright light all around us. "We'll be there in an hour. See to the rigging."

"I didn't know," the sailor knelt beside me, his head bowed. "Two of the others brought you, and the money was too good. I'm sorry, but we're bound, now. Terribly sorry. I'll see that the Prince knows what happened. The bitch will pay for this." He rose and stalked off.

Mirisa had paid these men to take me. Where, I had no idea, and since my gifts refused to tell me anything of myself, there was no way to tell where I might be taken. Would they drop me overboard, still bound hand and foot? There was no need; I'd never learned to swim. I'd be just as dead either way—there was no land in sight.

Twilight was beginning to fall before someone shouted and the sailor I knew came back to me. "We'll put you ashore—what little there is of it, and I'll ring the bell. Tis now I wish you could speak; they'll likely kill you first and ask questions later. I'll see that the Prince knows, lady. I'll make sure he knows."

Fear gripped me as I sat up straight on the bench, watching as we approached perhaps the strangest sight I'd ever seen. Straight up from the seabed it rose, to impossible heights. Of glass it was made—all of glass—on the outside, at least, in greens, blues and golds.

Glass that color was only found inside the King's palace, and those colors were a pale comparison to these. I wondered at the sight of this huge, glass castle, because that's what it appeared to be, even as my heart hammered against my ribs in fear.

What creatures lived in a glass castle surrounded by waters so deep that none could swim their way to land? I did not see a ship moored anywhere, but then the castle was vast and round—I saw the curving edges of it from my seat on board the ship.

The closer we came, the easier it was to make out terraces in the glass, higher up. Tops of trees peered over glass balustrades, as if growing in the middle of the sea were commonplace and acceptable.

Shortly after, I was placed in a rowboat after being lowered over the side, and the sailor and two others paddled toward the glass castle. I felt eyes upon us as we made our way slowly to a very narrow shore—a grown man could have lain down at the widest part and had his head against glass, his feet in the sea. Our little boat scraped against sand as we pulled up to the narrow strip, and the sailor cut my bonds away.

"There's a passenger basket just through here," he informed me as I stumbled after him; my feet and hands were numb from being tied for so long. A thin opening allowed us to step past the outer edges of glass, and on any other day I might have placed my hands on thick, opaque glass and marveled at it, but not that day. That day ensured that my life would never be the same, and all of it because Mirisa was a jealous and brutal bitch.

"She gave me a note to send up with you, but I'll read it first," the sailor muttered as we stood inside a cool crevice, surrounded by glass. A thin rope dangled against a wall and the sailor tugged on it while a bell tolled far over our heads. To our left was a hollowed out portion that puzzled me, until a woven basket descended within it, lowered by thick rope. Backing away from it, I bumped into the glass wall on the opposite side.

"Take back this filth that you spawned," the sailor read the letter and then stared at me. "I will not send this with you, I'm afraid," he folded the note and stuffed it into a pocket. "Girl, again I'm sorry for my part in this. I wish there was another way, but if I take you out of here, those in the ship will tear me apart. They only got half their money, you see, and the other half is to be delivered once we make port again."

I turned my head away from him after that statement, and he sighed heavily. By that time, the basket had touched the sand at the bottom of the hollowed out tube. "In you go," he gestured toward the basket.

When I failed to move, he was compelled to lift me over the edge. The ones above who were watching as well as operating the basket, began to pull it up. The sailor turned his eyes up toward me, watching until I was so high up I'd kill myself if I jumped away. I could not see him after he left the crevice, but I knew, with the talent I had, that he'd climbed aboard the small boat and sat while the other two rowed him to the ship.

* * *

Omina glared at Mirisa, who offered a hate-filled stare in return. "What have you done?" Omina hissed. Farin and three of Omina's guards stood by inside Omina's study. Word had gotten out that sailors had carried someone away from the palace, after the night guard at the kitchen door had been bribed. Currently he was resting in Omina's jail, but only after he'd identified Mirisa as the one who'd paid him.

"I sent that filth where it belonged," Mirisa shouted. "None of you were willing to do anything with it."

"That filth, as you call her, had the healing gift," Farin snapped. "Even the ones you sent her to recognize and value that. We were going to use her as a bargaining token, to bring one of the Guardians here to heal Fyris. But you, in a fit of jealousy, throw it away and seal our doom. You stupid, senseless bitch." Farin stalked angrily from Omina's study.

"You sent her to her death, but that's what you planned, wasn't it? We can't get her back and Fyris will die. I could have my guards kill you now, do you know that?" Omina's eyes locked with Mirisa's. "I am Queen of Fyris. I have had greater than you put down. Take her," Omina jerked her head. "I will decide what to do with her before her father's men arrive." For the first time, fear crept into Mirisa's eyes.

* * *

Did I remain standing inside the basket as it was drawn upward? It might have been brave to do so, but I wasn't brave. I huddled on the flimsy floor of woven bark, terrified that my death waited at the top of a glass castle.

I'd seen the look in the sailor's eyes as I was pulled upward—they held no hope—
for me
. The basket reached the top and was pulled inward. I saw above me a well-lit chamber, lined with more glass, and then a face peered over the edge of the basket—a man's face. He frowned down at me, just as the basket was tipped over and I came spilling out, like a glob of thick porridge. When I scrambled to my knees, I gaped at the man who'd frowned at me. Now I knew the secret, and I was likely to die because of it.

Wings. All six of those who waited had wings. Black wings—as black as night. The one who stared down at me rustled the wings at his back in distaste. "Rip her shirt," he ordered and I shrank against the floor as another drew a dagger from a sheath at his belt and cut through the back of my blouse.

"Longer than normal, but that's of no consequence," the man muttered. "Kill her."