Keeper (First Ordinance #2)(68)

"We're back to Quin," Rodrik breathed. "She could help Amlis, I have no doubt. I worry, however, that she has enough to do where she is."

"Will she ever come back to us?"

"My dear, she was never ours to begin with."

*

Avii Castle

Quin

I had three days to prepare for the interview. Rather than fretting over it, I decided to spend the time recuperating and reading Ulrin's journal. Eventually I reached the pages describing his best years—when he was selected as physician to Prince Tandelis.

He described the wife Tandelis took, who became ill during her first pregnancy and died when the child came too early. Tandelis' grief was described in detail, and Ulrin wrote that he doubted whether Tandelis would ever remarry.

He hadn't, leaving no heir and the way to the throne ripe for Tamblin and Yevil to usurp with a handful of deaths.

I had to get through many years' notes, then, to reach the point where Tandelis was murdered—and it was noted that it angered Ulrin greatly. Had Tamblin known of Ulrin's distaste for him, he'd have had the physician murdered as well.

Disappointment clouded my mind when I found nothing at all about me during that time, as it was then that my appearance was first reported by those in the castle kitchens. I took a moment to curse Halthea and the missing pages in Jurris' book before setting the journal aside—Dena was bringing gossip with my midday meal.





Chapter 14

Avii Castle

Quin

"Justis has been with the King and the Council all morning," Dena whispered as I ate. "Berel and Kaldill asked for a meeting, but Ordin said you were still too weak to handle that sort of ordeal, so they didn't call for you to attend."

"It doesn't matter," I shrugged. "You know how most of the Council feels about me anyway. I doubt much has changed."

"They should listen anyway—Berel and Kaldill are telling them what happened to the people in Fyris, and why the ones who didn't die were taken elsewhere."

"You know most of the Avii won't want to go anywhere," I said, spearing a tiny potato with my fork and biting into it.

"I know. My mother is one of them. Change is so hard for most people."

"Change isn't any easier for you or me," I pointed out. "We just recognize the necessity of it."

"Ardis says we're young," Dena frowned. "That we haven't lived long enough."

"I think that's rather prejudicial," I said. "I believe Gurnil and Ordin recognize the danger, as does Kaldill, and I can't guess at Kaldill's age."

"He's really a king?" Dena's voice softened.

"I—yes." I didn't say that Kaldill was more important as a king than Jurris would ever be. Dena counted Jurris as her King, and that was more significant to her.

"Maybe it's because we saw Fyris," Dena said. "If my mother had gone, it may have made a difference to her."

"Nobody should go there now, unless they wish to die," I responded. "That's how dangerous it is."

"Where will we go—if we leave?" Dena asked. A part of her wanted to leave, while another part wanted to stay. For her, much depended on Ardis.

"I will tell you this, as your friend," I said. "This is what I know—none who stay will survive. I want you to live. That's why I went to Kondar—I wanted them to live, too."

"I know."

She did—in some ways. In other ways, she didn't understand at all. Siriaa's days were numbered, and I had no way to impress that fact upon any of its population.

"Ah, she's eating already," Berel and Kaldill arrived, bearing trays of food.

"I haven't finished yet," I said. "Please, sit and eat with me."

Justis walked in just as they were pulling up chairs. Berel didn't speak to Justis, but at least he didn't leave the room. I was surprised, however, when Daragar appeared, fashioned a large chair with the power he held and took a seat behind the others.

I have a terrible fear that many people will die—by their own choice, I sent to him.

I know. The Wise Ones say the same. Do not blame yourself—it is a choice many make, and one we may see as preventable at best and a terrible choice at worst, he returned.

Do you know how those from Fyris are doing? I asked.

Yes—most of them are enjoying their lives for the first time since they can remember. Their animals are thriving and they have enough food to eat. Amlis, however, is depressed and has been since he learned of his mother's and uncle's deaths so quickly after he left Siriaa.

Their choice, I dropped my eyes to my plate. We were back to that again—choices. Had they known they'd die so swiftly? Was it a mercy that they had, rather than lingering with the poison sickness or the wasting disease? There'd been no healers or relief left for them in Fyris—they were on their own.

Perhaps I will take you to speak with someone who understands these things—that the lives most lead may not be the only lives they've lived or will live.

What if, I began, before hesitating. What if, I repeated, this is the only life I've ever had? Something in me wanted to say it as fact, but I knew little about myself, after all. I'd stopped reading Ulrin's journal for now—I felt it had gone past the point where any mention of me would be made.