BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3 (8 page)

"We will teach you two hours each day," I promised. "You will have your evenings to read and study."

"Is this a dream?" she asked, her voice soft and timid. Her eyes met mine, begging me silently to say it wasn't a lie.

"It isn't a lie, Jayna. Learning isn't easy, but it is worth every moment."

* * *

"These are ones we know have been taken," Pellen, the lead agent, set a comp-vid before Kaldill. Sal and Justis sat on either side of Kaldill, with the rest of us scattered throughout Kaldill's suite.

"Quin?" Kaldill turned to me and beckoned.

"What can the girl do?" Pellen huffed.

"More than you know," Justis growled. I walked toward Kaldill and accepted the comp-vid. Five images were shown—three female, two male. The females were all pretty girls in their mid to late teens. The males were slightly older and in prime physical shape.

"I don't believe they're missing for the reasons we think," I said. Part of the reason I'd understood after seeing Jayna. Another part of the reason was hidden from me, but I was getting used to foggy roadblocks to needed information.

"What do you know?" Kaldill asked. I was resolved not to say anything about Jayna when I explained that someone was choosing the young, handsome and beautiful from the slums to sell as sex slaves.

"What the fuck?" Pellen cursed.

"You just described many crime families on Vic'Law," Jeslin, the head cook, observed. Mell, standing beside him, nodded her agreement. "Most are tied to multiple crimes—the sex slave trade is a lucrative one, so this doesn't surprise me. This could be any crime family on Vic'Law."

"Quin will know when she sees them," Kaldill said.

"We must wait for them to approach us," Pellen inserted smoothly. "That is the way of this world."

What the hell is Cayetes up to—if this is Cayetes. You think he's following in his brother's footsteps and merely selling older children?
Bel silently asked.

It would appear that way
, Sal replied. "I intend to go to the slums tonight," he said aloud.

"I'm going with him," Lafe agreed.

"Then Terrett and I will go," I said. "To hide you from those who have wizards or warlocks in their employ."

"You're not going without me," Justis said, giving me a pointed look.

"I go," Yanzi declared.

"I guess we're all going," Kaldill sighed.

* * *

This is where one of the girls lived
, Sal informed us as we landed on the roof of a poorly constructed two-story building. Little more than a dormitory, the structure was crowded on three sides by others just like it.

When was she taken?
Bel asked.

A week ago
, Sal replied.
Her family is devastated
.

How you know this?
Yanzi spoke next.

I was here two days ago—as wolf. I saw and heard a lot. They didn't see me—I know better than that
.

I here last night—as snake
, Yanzi responded.
I hear things, too
.
Some families afraid to report loss—they lose food allowance
.

This is so fucked up
, Bel said.

Are we going to talk to them?
Kaldill asked.
Or just stand on their roof and discuss it all night?

We will speak with them,
Daragar appeared.
I will ensure that they do not remember us afterward
.

I always suspected that Larentii had their own version of compulsion
, Kaldill grinned.

We do not employ it often
, Daragar sounded as if he were offended.

Let's go—it's cold up here
, Berel said.

It was cold—even though we were warmly dressed, the wind had risen, chilling exposed skin. A bleak, early winter had arrived in Der'Vek.

* * *

"Who are you?" The man couldn't have been more than forty, but the work he did beneath the streets of Der'Vek had served to age him past his years. His anger at his lot in life, coupled with the disappearance of his daughter, made him angrier than usual.

"We are looking for one of ours," Kaldill replied smoothly. "A young girl—a daughter. We are searching for her. We hope you can give us information on your daughter's disappearance. In return, we will also look for her."

At first, the man appeared confused as he stood in the doorway, blocking the weak light from inside with his bulk. "Come in," he turned and walked back in the house, expecting us to follow.

"We don't know," the wife wiped tears away. "She worked in one of the shops in the city, selling sweets to those who can afford them. An eight-day ago, she never came home. We've asked those who live on the edge of our area—they didn't see her walk past, as she usually does."

"How did she come by that job?" Sal asked.

"They only take the pretty ones to work in the shops," the man grumbled. "Reetha was pretty. Like her mother."

"Our experience is much the same," Kaldill agreed. "Pretty—and now missing."

"Constables say they're looking into it, but nothing ever gets done when it involves one of ours," the man said. "They only come to take the bodies away when we die."

"We know this," Lafe nodded.

I watched Justis—he stood in a corner of the badly furnished apartment, his eyes hooded, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Once again, Kaldill had hidden our wings, else we'd never have been allowed inside the house.

"You should keep that one hidden," the wife pointed at me. "Whoever is doing this would certainly consider her."

"We are watchful," Kaldill said as I forced myself not to shiver.

"I wish we'd taken the rumors more seriously," the wife said. "I don't think we'll ever see Reetha again."

"We'll go," Kaldill said softly as the man rose to comfort his wife, who'd started weeping.

All of us were somber as we left Reetha's parents to grieve behind us. Daragar stayed behind for a moment—he was ensuring that these didn't remember our visit.

Tomorrow, we visit the sweet shop
, Sal said.

* * *

"How are they hiding information from us?" Bel asked. I could tell he'd used his warlock gift to search for clues, but hadn't found anything.

Terrett made a growl in his throat.

Another meeting was held, once we arrived at our palace after visiting Reetha's parents. The agents were included, as they were before. Only Jayna wasn't present—she was sleeping already.

"They wouldn't," I turned to Terrett in alarm.

He laced my fingers in his and shook his head—he couldn't say for sure, either, but on at least one occasion, a Sirenali child had been sold to hide criminal activity.

"What are you talking about?" Pellen demanded.

"Terrett's race," Sal said. "He has a special talent for hiding activity from the powerful, so he was sold as a child to criminals, who cut out his tongue to prevent him from speaking."

"That's barbaric," Mell declared.

"We worry that more of his race may be here," Kaldill said. "Possibly held against their will and used for the same purpose—to hide criminal activity."

"Why would the sweet shop be hidden?" Jeslin pointed his question toward Sal.

"That's what we need to find out—it may be the place where targets are marked and taken. If so, then a Sirenali's presence would be more than justified."

"I know this is the capital city, but what about other cities?" I asked.

"There are others, but this is where the crime families make their homes," Pellen replied. He raked a hand through dark hair peppered with silver—he was eldest of the agents present and it showed. "All the manufacturing is done elsewhere—they don't want the stink of their factories to spoil the air in Der'Vek. Farming is done between cities, most of it near the equator so crops may be grown year-round."

"All ASD agents on the planet are here in Der'Vek," Jeslin added. "To watch the crime families."

"Who runs the other cities?" I asked. Someone had to, and I couldn't imagine they'd turn that task over to the normal population.

"Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, nieces and nephews," Pellen shrugged. "They're being groomed to take over here, should the need arise."

"It's government by a council of criminals," Mell offered. "They call themselves the Grand Coalition. Each member has an equal vote, which is as close to a democracy as they'll ever get."

"Will we be a part of that?" I asked.

"We have to live here three years and then be invited to join the lowest tier. They'll watch us between now and then," Kaldill explained.

This is confusingly fucked
, Terrett informed me. I'd never heard him use profanity before, but he was correct.

You're right
, I agreed.
I think there's more going on than they suspect, and we haven't gotten any real information, yet
.

Only living in one city equates to wearing blinders
, Terrett returned.
They have no idea what's going on. This is where the criminals live. Their work goes on elsewhere.

I think the same
.

I know this—I've lived among them most of my life
, Terrett snorted.
I know how they think, their often twisted idea of pleasure, their greed—all of it
.

I wish I could fold space
, I replied.
You and I would do our own investigation
.

We must convince them
, Terrett said.
I do not wish to place you in danger. Promise me that you will never go out alone
.
That will frighten me more than I have ever been
.

I'll try
, I closed my eyes for a moment. Terrett couldn't hide his concern—it soaked from his skin into mine as he gripped my hand tighter. Before I realized it, my head was on his shoulder and I was huddling into his warmth.

I didn't mean to scare you
, he soothed. His hand disentangled from mine and his arms went around me. I felt embarrassed that the others were watching, but I closed my eyes tightly and struggled to ignore them.

My love, is everything all right?
Kaldill asked gently.

I scared myself, mostly
, I replied. If I'd spoken aloud, my voice would have trembled.

"We will take this up again tomorrow," Sal announced and ushered the agents out of Kaldill's suite.

"Quinnie?" Yanzi reached Terrett and me first.

"I'm all right," I croaked, pulling away from Terrett's shoulder.

We worry that there is more going on than the agents think
, Terrett sent blanket mindspeech.

"Terrett knows criminals—he's been forced to live among them most of his life," I mumbled. "That's why we think that Der'Vek isn't the only problem."

"Don't shit where you eat," Bel Erland nodded his head. "That's one of Gran's phrases, but it fits."

"You think that missing people is only scratching the surface?" Lafe asked. He didn't sound skeptical—he sounded convinced.

"Yes," I said. Suddenly, I felt weary. It was quite late and breakfast and another training session were scheduled early in the morning.

"We still need to visit the sweet shop," Sal said. He was right—it was a place to start and all we had at the moment.

"It will be a hard winter," Daragar announced as he materialized. His words sounded prophetic to me. I dipped my chin to acknowledge his truth.

* * *

Zephili

"Any word from Bleek?" Vardil examined his new body in the mirror.

His assistant, Dorgus, shook his head. "Nothing today, my Lord," he replied. "You look quite fine, Lord Vardil. You can walk down the streets of any of Zephili's cities and be admired."

"You think so?" Vardil preened a bit before the mirror.

"Most certainly. May I interest you in a late meal? Transferences can be draining, or so Deris claims."

"A meal sounds quite appealing. Dress me and have food delivered to my suite."

"As you require, my Lord."

"Dorgus, do you think there's a way to keep this body—or at least this look?" Vardil was back to preening. "This is the finest, handsomest body I've ever had."

"I'll look into it, my Lord."

* * *

Bleek

Barc was six when the disease came. That was nearly eight sun-turns ago. The disease ravaged his body for two sun-turns before he was placed in stasis—it would have killed him, otherwise. In stasis, he still looks eight. If he were wakened, he would have only an eight-year-old's memories.

So much has happened since he was placed in stasis and locked in a spelled glass coffin by Deris and his sister, Daris. At times, I worry that I will die, leaving Barc to this fate forever—lying still within a glass coffin, waiting to be awakened with power so he might breath his last breaths alone and unloved.