Keeper: First Ordinance, Book 2 by Connie Suttle

before they were brought to Siriaa.
    I had little information with which to comprehend any of those
things.
    * * *
    I began cleaning the old physician's bedroom on the third day,
while Dena worked in his library and Ordin began seeing patients in the outer
rooms—those who were brave enough to approach a winged healer and his volunteer
staff from the large ships anchored near Lironis. That meant he was seeing
those who were worst off or in the most pain.
    The old physician had died in his bed, which left a smelly
mess behind. Rolling up covers first, I dragged them to the window and shoved
them through and outside—I doubted Ordin wanted the bedding dragged past those
who waited to see him at the door.
    The old, straw-filled mattress came next, and I was grateful
to get the smell of it shoved outside the room. This was the reason I'd offered
to let Dena clean his library—the bedroom was an untidy clutter she shouldn't
have to clear away.
    We had cleaning supplies courtesy of the ships, and I was
grateful as they helped clear away the smells. Next, I began to dismantle the
bed—it was constructed of heavy, carved wood and slats.
    That's when I found it.
    The box was smooth on all sides and shut tightly. I might have
thought it a child's coffin, except it was made of metal.
    This metal shone in the dim light, letting me know it had been
manufactured far from Fyris—they had not the skill to make something of this
quality. It bore a strange, flat keyhole, too, but wasn't locked. What had the
physician kept inside it? Cautiously I lifted the lid.
    What I discovered revealed some truth about me, but I lacked
sufficient knowledge to reason it out completely.
    Within the box lay a strange material, with parts of it
removed. The missing part was in the shape of a large doll—or a child. Upon
closer examination, I found several hairs where the head would have lain.
    Those hairs were the same colors as mine—gold, copper and
silver. Nobody else had hair such as that—theseweremine.
Sometime in the past, when I was very small, I'd lain in this box.
    Shutting it hastily, I shoved it away from me in horror.
    * * *
    "Quin, you seem distracted," Berel observed during
lunch. I'd been forced to bathe after clearing out the bedding earlier, and
after my discovery, had to force myself to keep working.
    I'd also never taken anything in my life. I'd done so that
day, hauling the metal box up castle steps until I reached Justis' suite.
There, I hid the box beneath my bed in the tiny room next to his.
    Nobody thought to stop me; perhaps they imagined the box was
for Justis or another in the royal wing. Only servants saw me as it turned out,
and they had their own duties. They'd never bothered with me before and that
habit continued, although I now wore wings.
    "Just reflecting on the old physician. He cut my wing
nubs away when I lived here before," I offered to stave off Berel's
curiosity. Yes, I was thinking about the physician, but I was thinking more
about the box.
    "Forget those times, Quin. They are in the past,"
Gurnil coaxed. He sat next to Dena, and they'd discussed what she'd found in
the physician's library. Perhaps Gurnil would carry those old books back to
Avii Castle with him, or perhaps he already had copies of those outdated
medical texts.
    Before, I would have been interested in any book. My mind had
been taken over, however, by the mystery of a metal box found beneath the
physician's bed.
    I forced myself to pay attention during the rest of the meal, then
made my way back to the physician's quarters to finish cleaning.
    * * *
    By the end of the day, Ordin's healing quarters were as clean
as we could make them, and more supplies and equipment was ordered. Guards were
assigned to Gurnil—both Black Wing and Fyrian. One of those guards was Yann,
who'd pledged his loyalty first when Amlis and Omina arrived in Lironis.
    He stood straighter and prouder, now, I noticed. In the past,
I'd seldom seen him unless Varnell wanted