Keeper (First Ordinance #2)(15)

The sight of it grieved me much.

It wasn't until Amlis and Rodrik approached the main door that Varnell's guards appeared; they'd hastily dressed in old armor and faced us with their swords drawn. Varnell himself pushed through them until he stood six paces from Amlis, a blade drawn and pointed threateningly at the Prince.

"You think to delay me?"

It wasn't Amlis who spoke, or Rodrik or the Queen. Varnell blinked at his empty hand and then at Justis, who'd snatched the blade from the old man's grip. "I tell you this, old man," Justis held the sword to Varnell's throat and hissed in his face, "If any are still living who participated in Elabeth's murder, I will kill them myself."

Justis tossed Varnell's blade onto the courtyard stones, where it rang its metallic protest into ensuing silence.

*

"I wish to send a message to my father in Vhrist," Amlis said. He'd found his quarters much as he'd left them, aside from the thick layer of dust that covered everything.

"Unwise, my Prince," Rodrik scolded. Amlis nodded after a moment and I released the breath I'd held.

Dena, who'd followed me, now supervised the maids who'd shown up to clean Amlis' chambers while the rest of us attended to other duties.

Across the hall, more maids and servants did the same for Omina. Wolter and Deeds had gone to the kitchens to see about food and supplies while Berel, who sat at the Prince's desk conversing with his father, offered supplies from the ships if needed.

"Son, allow me to speak with Quin, please," Edden said.

"Yes, High President?" I moved to stand at Berel's elbow, so Edden could see my face in Berel's screen.

"There are airchoppers on board one of the ships," he said. "I understand that someone must accompany my pilots to get in and out again. Who will you recommend to guide us?"

"Orik," I said immediately. "He has sailed the waters around Fyris for many years and knows how to locate the strait. Fen, also. Perhaps one or two others, depending upon how many airchoppers you wish to send."

"Two, I think, for a preliminary relief delivery," Edden said. "I'll have supplies delivered to Avii Castle, and the airchoppers can fly them from there."

"That would be greatly appreciated," I said. "The people are starving—the harvests have been very poor and far from what they should be."

"Yes, we've analyzed the images Berel sent and that's our conclusion as well."

"I hope the people will agree to allow the ships' medical staff to examine those who are ill," Berel said.

"That may take time—they are quite distrustful at the moment, as your technology appears to be sorcery to them. They don't understand it at all."

"Will you heal them?" Berel asked.

"I may do some," I allowed my shoulders to droop. "I worry about depleting my energy in the face of so many."

"Not everything is your worry," Wolter walked in and dropped a hand on my shoulder. "Do what must be done and in private. We don't need all of Fyris at the castle gate when they learn what you can do."

"Quin, many of them are treatable through other means. Save what you have for the worst off and most deserving," Edden said. I knew what he wasn't saying—that he'd had to pay for that privilege for Berel. I wanted to apologize, but it hadn't been my greed that demanded payment. I would have done the healing for nothing, because it was deserved—by father and son.

"Halthea is dead—she tried to kill the King," I blurted instead.

"I have already heard that news so I know why you tell me this," Edden nodded. "It is none of your fault, child. We understand this."

"Thank you, High President," I ducked my head in a gesture of respect. Edden smiled at me in return. "I shall make you a citizen of Kondar. Immediately," he replied.

*

Vhrist

"Do you know anything about this?" Tamblin tossed a hand-drawn picture through the bars of Rath's cell.

Rath stood slowly—the mattress he'd been given was barely an improvement over the stone floor beneath it; the straw bedding had flattened long ago. It did nothing to help the joint disease he'd developed after sixty years of life.

Lifting the parchment drawing before straightening with an effort, Rath blinked at the strange image. "What is this?" he turned to Tamblin. Yevil stood at Tamblin's shoulder, glaring.

"Glare all you want, it won't offer insight into what this is," Rath handed the drawing to Tamblin through the bars and shook his head. "I've never seen such. Is it a ship?"

"That's what the fishermen say who saw it," Tamblin snorted.

"Where is it now?" Rath asked.

"We don't know. The sailors were too frightened and too slow to chase it."

"Then you know more than I," Rath said. "Has it attacked, or provoked attack?"

"We have no word of such," Tamblin replied. Yevil shuffled angrily at Tamblin's side.

"It is an enemy, that is plain to see," Yevil's words exploded in an angry growl.

"Are you taking these sailor's words for truth, then, without seeing this for yourself? Were they drunk, perhaps?" Rath lifted an eyebrow at Yevil. "Were they attacked? How do you know it is an enemy?"