Keeper (First Ordinance #2)(85)

"Yokaru is prepared to follow Kondar's lead," Melis agreed. "Their Emperor has already informed our ambassadors of such."

"Why is it written into the law that we can only call a vote at the earliest in two eight-days?" Edden massaged his forehead.

"Headache?"

"A rather large one. It's called my Council."

*

Larentii Archives

"A verified reproduction of the original," Daragar handed a copy of Ulrin's journal to Nefrigar. "I've not encountered many who've employed this form of mirror writing. That means little, as I am merely one thousand years old."

"It's still quite uncommon," Nefrigar opened the journal to the proper pages to study them briefly. "I believe Quin's ability to read any language enabled her to decipher this easily, whereas it may have confounded many others."

"I may have made a mistake, repeating your words, Archivist," Daragar hung his head. "She now believes she is nothing more than an automaton, created by Liron."

"Perhaps care must be taken to remove that belief—the gods made all races in the beginning, or at least the building blocks of all races. Having parents does not make one legitimate as the gods measure things. Not having parents—especially in Quin's case—does not diminish the capacity to love. That is what makes us real," Nefrigar smiled as he placed a hand upon Daragar's shoulder. "Tell her that she is more real than many we have met, and more loved than most."

"I wish I could reveal what Lissa really is—that should convince Quin faster than anything else," Daragar lifted his head and gazed into Nefrigar's bright-blue eyes.

"We have promises to keep and identities to hide," Nefrigar inclined his head. "Nevertheless, if Lissa considered Quin as anything other than real, she would have said it already. She cares for the girl."

"Then I have damage to repair," Daragar said. "I shall ponder the best way to do so."

*

Harifa Edus

New Fyris

"Here are images of the werewolf cities on the other continent," Tory handed the comp-vid to Amlis. "You see they were provided much the same as you. Many chose not to live in the two major cities, preferring a wilder, more rustic existence outside."

"Because of what they are?" Amlis, sitting behind the desk in his study, looked up at Tory.

"Partly, but also because of where they came from before they were moved here. They were persecuted on other worlds; most of those worlds had the same sort of rustic societies. To keep them alive, my mother brought them here. This was the werewolf planet eons ago, so they were returning home after a very long absence."

"Fascinating," Amlis pulled a finger across the screen to examine more images. "Do you think we might trade with them eventually?"

"That is our hope," Tory replied. "If you can increase your herds and flocks, that would be a very good export, as well as grains—their continent isn't the best for growing such. Some have turned to manufacturing glass and metals, so there is certainly the possibility of a thriving trade."

"I have none who understand glassmaking, and few prepared to produce metal in any quantity," Amlis agreed. "Trade for those things would be most welcome. My question is this—will they welcome us? You say they are shape changers. Are they dangerous?"

"That's a question for Sali—Salidar," Tory grinned. "He's werewolf."

"The blademaster?"

"Yes. Dragon, Crane and Dragon's sons are only marginally better. Sali is quite talented. I learned bladework from him and the one who taught him."

"I didn't realize he was anything except what I am," Amlis shook his head in wonder.

"That's the way they prefer it, keeping their other sides hidden, just as I do," Tory said. "You shouldn't worry about your safety. They are just as concerned for their children as the people of New Fyris will be about theirs."

"I understand," Amlis sighed. "We will begin with trade and perhaps friendship will follow."

"Exactly what my mother wants to hear," Tory grinned.

*

Avii Castle

Quin

"You were created by a god," Daragar said, lifting my face so his eyes would meet mine. "That makes you more special than those about you, and also makes you no less worthy than any other sentient being."

"But," I said, attempting to pull away. He'd found me, moping on the Library terrace the following morning.

"No. Do not say that word," Daragar instructed, holding onto my chin with careful fingers. "Where you are concerned, that word does not exist. You love and are loved. To those who created all races, that is what matters most."

"I still can't help feeling that I'm only here to serve someone else's purpose."

"Quin—at least you have a purpose, and I believe your choices are yours and no others. Besides, many have been chosen instruments of the gods in the past, and those are still talked of and admired by many. They merely came into their lives in a more mundane manner."

"You have other Larentii to point to," I said, blinking at him. "There are no others like me. Nefrigar says so."

"Had Liron not died, perhaps you would have been the first of many," he smiled. "Nefrigar and I have calculated the timeline. Liron's death occurred shortly after he left the stasis box in Ulrin's hands."