Keeper: First Ordinance, Book 2 Page 25

  "Why didn't Ulrin open the box when he was supposed to?" I wiped more tears away—my vision was blurred as I blinked at Justis. "How old am I?" I wept.

  "Dearest, you mustn't allow this to upset you. Time began for you when Ulrin finally opened that box," Kaldill said. "Nefrigar calls it a stasis box. You were kept from growing or aging as long as you were inside it."

  "But where did I come from?" Brushing yet another tear away, I chewed my lip and struggled to clear my watery eyes.

  "Dearest, perhaps only Liron had that answer," Kaldill replied.

  I understood, just by looking at Kaldill, that Liron was dead. He was considered a rogue god, capable of terrible things. Was I also capable of such?

  "Never think that," Daragar said softly. "Liron did what he could to save the people of this world. What better person to choose than the best you can find to perform that deed? Never place yourself among the ranks of the Hidden rogue gods. You do not belong there."

  "We only have reports that he was capable, never that he acted in any way against the laws set out to watch and protect," Kaldill said. "It may be that he was coerced in some way to join the Hidden."

  "This is too complicated for me to consider right now," I brushed more moisture away. "Berel, have you heard anything about the debates?"

  "I've been watching live vids," he said, tapping his tab-vid. "It's the usual back-and-forth, now. I can see which ones already have their minds made up, and which are still unsure of their decision."

  "They'll die if they stay—it's as simple as that."

  "Today has been a trying one for you," Justis ran a hand down my feathers. "As was yesterday. Shall we have a quiet dinner and then rest?"

  "I'm not very hungry," I mumbled, allowing my head to droop against Justis' shoulder.

  "You should eat anyway—as much as you can," Ordin scolded gently. "Dena has Yellow Wings bringing a meal soon, and she and Ardis will join us."

  "What will they think of all this? What about your brother?" I leaned away from Justis to ask. His dark eyes studied mine for a moment before he answered.

  "When my brother learns you were brought here by Liron, he may curse himself," Justis sighed. "As should every Avii who has raised voice or hand against you."

  "I hope the others never find out," I let my head fall against his shoulder again. "Tell Jurris if you like, but I don't want the rest to stare or ask questions I can't answer."

  "There will be time to worry about these things later. Meal first, then rest," Ordin said.

  He made it sound so simple.

  There was nothing simple about any of this.

  Something about Daragar's words concerned me, too.

  He'd said that when things are connected, as the Orb and I were, that they had to be constructed at the same time.

  Constructed.

  I was a golem.

  I'd never had parents. Ulrin had noted that I was curiously silent when he opened the box. Perhaps Liron intended that I never speak. I could carry no tales, that way. Why I did find my voice eventually, I couldn't fathom. Had Liron carefully plotted my life, or had he devised me for one thing and one thing only, with everything afterward an accident of sorts?

  I felt like a fraud. A machine. Would anyone listen to me if they learned what I really was?

  It made me wish to hide and weep from the sorrow and frustration I felt.

  There was no time for self-pity. Siriaa's fate was uncertain because a poor decision had made it so.

  "I'll eat," I mumbled.

  "Good." One of Justis' wings lifted and covered me, pulling me tighter against him.

  * * *

  Vogeffa I

  "How long will it take for the ship to arrive at the designated location?" Vardil asked.

  "Two days at their best speed, provided there are no detours due to ASD entanglements," his assistant replied. "The ship left earlier this morning."

  "Have any other Belancours met an untimely end?" Vardil asked.

  "None yet, but we have several leads. One is hidden on Grey Planet, and another is still imprisoned on Le-Ath Veronis, as you know."

  "Can one of ours bribe or infiltrate?"

  "I will look into that immediately," the assistant replied. "Meanwhile, we have interviews with surgeons and warlocks to consider."

  "I'll assess the lists very soon. Notify me when Siriaa is destroyed."

  "I will, Lord Cayetes."

  * * *

  Kondar

  "How in the names of all the gods did they get distracted over what parcels of land they wanted on Morningsun, rather than deciding whether they would go there in the first place?" Edden thumped the mug of tea on his desk.

  "You know how easily some are lured away from the topic at hand," Melis shifted in his seat. "This is the usual delaying tactic, designed to divert attention and bring the vote closer, so that few know what they're doing when the vote is cast. If some think they won't get the best deal or exactly what they want, they'll vote against leaving."

  "What can they hope to achieve by that?" Edden growled. "Time grows short. Who cares who gets a shoreline we don't even have, yet?"

  "I realize that those who've offered the land did their best to match what the Sectors already have, and that was a noble thing to do. Who knew that it would become a petty squabble over who has the best parts of it? They haven't even set foot on it yet, and already it's a point of contention."

  "It's times like this that I wished we could be a monarchy for just a few moments. I'd approve the exodus, everybody would be moved and then we'd go back to the way things were."

  "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 per
secuted 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."

  "Do you think he knew?" I asked. "That his death was coming?"

  "Perhaps. I have also given it some thought, but as we have insufficient information, we can only make logical guesses. I ask that you do not allow this to upset you in any way."

  "I understand you speak the truth, but I can't help the way I feel," I said. "I'll deal with it—I've dealt with everything else so far."

  "I know, but that doesn't make it any less painful to me to know that you suffer."

  I understood his meaning all too well. I was able to heal anyone else—just not myself. If Liron still lived, I had a long list of questions and complaints for him. Perhaps it was just as well that he'd died—he would grow tired of me in very little time.

  "Justis asked me to move back into his suite," I said, rustling my feathers and changing the subject.

  "Did you give him an answer?"

  "I said I'd think about it."

  "What do you really think?" Daragar smiled.

  "I think I like seeing his wings every morning and night," I said. "He lets them down and I see him when he is relaxed. Once he walks out the door, he is Commander Justis, who is stern and uncompromising."

  "See, we all have our assignments," Daragar said, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "Whether they are assignments from a king or a god, it matters not."

  "It depends on the king—and the god," I retorted, causing Daragar to laugh. "I want to check with Berel on the debates. Want to come?" I slid off the bench and stood.

  "I have an assignment with Nefrigar," he said. "I go, and so shall you."

  I watched him disappear before turning away to find Berel, who was likely in his bedroom watching the debates carefully and communicating with his father.

  * * *

  Larentii Archives

  "You were wise to ask for a reproduction of the Avii Queen's book before Elabeth died," Daragar said.

  Nefrigar nodded in agreement before handing the large, leather-bound book to Daragar. "As was noted before, some of it is in a language I have not seen and likely written by Liron himself. It is my guess that only Quin might decipher it, and as she is in such a fragile state, I will not hand it to her yet."

  "You worry that she may find other things to trouble her," Daragar sighed. "That is also my fear. She knows not that this copy exists."

  "It is my wish that you and I sit with her when she reads it," Nefrigar said. "That way we can provide support if it is needed."

  "I agree," Daragar replied.

  * * *

  Avii Castle

  Quin

  The rest of my day was spent with Berel, while scant time was taken away for meals and such. We watched the debates flounder—each side passionate about their stance but neither able to convince the other.

  "Is this how it always is?" I asked Berel as we shared a cup of tea while sitting at a Library table between midday and the evening meal. His tab-vid was set on the table so both of us could watch the feed easily.

  "Much of the time," he nodded.

  "I feel uncomfortable about this—that they're wasting time we do not have," I said.

  "I think so, too, but this is the law in action," Berel responded.

  "I feel the urgency in my feathers," I sighed. "Every part of me feels afraid for the people of Kondar and Yokaru."

  "You have a unique perspective on the situation. These," he gestured toward the images of the debate, "only have what they've been told and what evidence we can produce. Many things can be manipulated, including the truth. Some enjoy making lies of the truth, no matter how persuasive the facts are."

  "Because they have their own agenda and the truth interferes with it?" I suggested.

  "In some cases. You cannot judge all by the same measure," Berel said. "Each has his own experiences and acts accordingly. Yes, some are self-serving. I cannot say that about all—each, in their own way, makes an attempt to serve the people of their Sector first and Kondar second."

  "You're right," I inclined my head. "You have more experience at this than I."

  "Your experience is tempered by the service of a very bad monarch, who named himself King after he murdered his brother."

  "True. I will try to be less cynical in the future." My words made Berel laugh.

  * * *

  "How go the debates?" Kaldill asked when he arrived in the Library for dinner. He'd been absent most of the day, making a trip to Wyyld II for a conversation with Ildevar.

  "Much the same as the day before," Berel smiled as he answered Kaldill's question. "Quin, however, has adopted a more tolerant attitude toward politicians."

  "Don't tell Queen Lissa that," Kaldill laughed. "She grumbles before every Council meeting on Le-Ath Veronis."

  "How is she? Queen Lissa, I mean?" I asked.

  "Fine," Kaldill said. "You could send mindspeech and ask her yourself, you know. She would love to hear from you."

  "Perhaps I will," I said, accepting a plate of food from a Yellow Wing. Dena, Ardis and Justis walked in together—Dena's feathers were ruffled and damp, letting me know that she and Ardis had romped and bathed before coming to the Library to eat.

&
nbsp; I didn't begrudge her that happiness; Ardis made her quite happy indeed.

  "Did you sort out Kondar today?" Justis teased as he took the chair opposite Berel.

  "I wish we could," Berel responded. "Quin is getting jumpy over the debates. She keeps saying they're taking too long."

  I didn't say anything; I was happy to see that Justis and Berel had arrived at an amicable truce and were talking to one another.

  "Difficult to get anything done quickly with that many people—Jurris has enough trouble with the handful of Avii on his Council."

  "I beg your pardon. Two of those Avii are at the table," Gurnil pointed out with a grin. "Three if you count yourself."

  "Hardly a quorum," Justis bit back a laugh.

  "You're in a good mood," I said.

  "Oh, it's nothing. Except that I heard you like my wings." I watched his mouth curve into a wonderful smile. Somehow, he'd discovered what I'd shared with Daragar earlier in the day. Dena had the grace to turn pink and look guilty.

  "I would have told you so myself," I said with feigned haughtiness. "If you'd asked."

  If I could, I'd pull you onto my lap and share my food with you, he sent. I'll admit, the mental image was a tempting one.

  Someday, I replied.

  Good enough.

  * * *

  That evening, I sat with Berel on his bed, watching the last of the debates before they ended for the evening in Kondar. Absently he stroked my primary feathers, smoothing them and tracing the patterns of gold, silver and copper.

  I understood that his body was waking as he became an adult, but I think we both knew our time wasn't yet. It was enough to know that we cared for each other.

  "Another day gone," he sighed, taking his hand away from my feathers and turning his tab-vid off. "We can pick this up again tomorrow, after breakfast."

  "All right," I agreed and slid off his bed.

  "Quin?" Berel said as I reached the door.

  "What is it?" I turned toward him.