R’shiel took a step back from the roaring flames. If this fire spread, here in the warehouse district, it would destroy the city. Even if it only spread a little way, all their supplies, all the food they had stored to see them through the coming siege would be destroyed. Without thinking, she drew even deeper on the Harshini power, pulling as much as she could handle and sent it outwards from the cellar. The blast of air shook the surrounding buildings and almost brought the roof of the cellar down on top of her. But the flames were blown out like candles in a strong draft.
Panting with the effort of her exertions, she clambered through the debris until she reached the ground floor. The building was flattened, its roof gone, the walls blown out and laying flat on the ground. The warehouses on either side were in no better shape, and beyond them she could see the broken windows and fractured walls of the other buildings that had been in range. There were shouts in the distance and voices yelling orders. The Defenders come to investigate the source of the explosion, no doubt. She looked around at the devastation she had caused with a sigh. She had simply meant to blow out the flames. She hadn’t expected to level everything in sight.
It was Brak who reached the scene first. She was still standing there, dazed and bewildered as he leapt over the rubble to get to her.
When he reached her, Brak helped her sit down, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. “What, in the name of the gods, do you think you’re doing?”
“It was a trap,” she told him dully.
“No kidding.”
“I didn’t mean to…” she said, looking around her at what was left of the warehouse district.
“You never do, R’shiel. That’s what makes you so bloody dangerous.”
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
R’shiel took a deep breath and held out her hand to see if it had stopped trembling, then looked up and smiled wanly at Brak.
“I’m sorry.”
“You and I need to have a little talk about restraint,” he said with a frown. “You can’t go drawing on that much power every time you want to do something. There is such a thing as overkill, you know.”
“But I had to put out the fire. I didn’t know how much it would take.” For that matter, even if she had known, she still lacked the finesse to limit what she drew on, but she decided not to remind Brak of that.
“I feel exhausted, but somehow more aware. Isn’t that odd?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. It’s as if I can feel everything more clearly. I can even feel Sanctuary like it was right here.”
“That will be with you wherever you go, R’shiel.”
“I know. I’ve felt it ever since I left the place, but this is different. It’s stronger somehow…I don’t know…clearer…Brak?”
She blanched at the expression on his face. Suddenly, he wasn’t listening to her. He rose to his feet slowly and turned to stare blankly towards the west, reaching out with his senses, rather than his eyes.
R’shiel struggled to her feet and stood beside him, following his gaze, seeing nothing but the flattened buildings and the Defenders coming towards them, demanding to know what had happened.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can feel it too.”
“Sanctuary?”
He nodded.
“But why is it so strong? Normally it’s just like a vague impression in the back of my mind that I hardly even notice any more.”
“That’s because normally, Sanctuary is hidden out of time.”
“Then it’s back? Why would Korandellan do that?”
“He wouldn’t. Not willingly.”
He glanced at her grimly and she suddenly realised what he meant. Korandellan had brought Sanctuary into real time because he was no longer capable of holding it back. R’shiel stared around her with horror. She had drawn on the magic of the Harshini with no thought to the amount that she was consuming.
It was her fault the Harshini were no longer hidden.
“Oh Founders, Brak,” she said with quiet desperation. “What have I done?”
By mid morning the last of the Kariens, as well as the civilians who didn’t want to stay in the Citadel, had filed through the gates and they were closed against the army outside. The Defenders had dutifully searched the crowd for Loclon’s familiar face, but they paid no attention to the huge, simple-looking
man hauling a handcart through the gate piled with old blankets, or notice the thin, sharp-eyed old woman who walked beside him. Nor did they inspect the cart. The rugs smelled old and the woman openly wore the symbol of Xaphista on a chain around her neck. Another fanatic leaving and good riddance to all of them, they decided. The Defenders turned their attention to the crowd, scanning the faces for Loclon’s distinctive scar.
The huge man with his handcart, the beautiful young boy and the old woman left the Citadel unmolested.
“What happened at the warehouse district?” Tarja asked as soon as R’shiel appeared in the doorway of the First Sister’s office. He was alone with Garet Warner and a young woman that she didn’t recognise at first. The woman had long blonde hair and was dressed in homespun trousers and a rough linen shirt, with a Defender’s cloak, of all things, thrown carelessly back over one shoulder. The fire burned brightly in the hearth and the room was almost uncomfortably warm. For a fleeting, gut-wrenching moment, R’shiel remembered this office, so hot and stuffy, when Joyhinia had ruled here. She shook off the feeling impatiently. Joyhinia was dead.
“There was a bit of an altercation,” she shrugged as she stepped into the office with Brak on her heels. The woman with Tarja turned as she spoke and studied R’shiel curiously.
“Hello, R’shiel. Hello, Brak.”
“Mandah!”
“You sound surprised to see me, demon child.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped automatically. “What are you doing here?”
“What I’ve been doing since long before I met you, R’shiel. Helping my people.”
Her people, R’shiel knew, were the pagan rebels. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You were supposed to be heading into Hythria with the Defenders.”
“I chose to stay and help Tarja,” Mandah told her with a smile in Tarja’s direction. R’shiel recognised the look and felt an unexpected spear of jealousy pierce her chest.
“How convenient for you that the new Lord Defender is someone sympathetic to your cause.”
“There’s nothing convenient about it, R’shiel,” Garet remarked, looking up from the map spread out over the desk. “It’s one of the reasons Tarja got the job. What exactly do you mean by an
altercation
?”
“Someone tried to set fire to the warehouses. I…caused a bit of damage, but the fire is out.”
“Did you find Loclon?” Tarja asked.
“No. And I don’t think we will. But that’s not why I’m here. We have another problem.”
“What now?” Garet asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“The Harshini are in danger.”
“The Harshini have been in danger for the past two centuries.”
“This is more than just the threat of discovery, Garet. Sanctuary is no longer hidden. The Kariens can find them now.”
“I’m heartbroken,” the commandant told her unsympathetically, returning his attention to the map.
Tarja frowned at Garet. He appeared a little more sympathetic. “How long have they got?”
Brak shrugged. “Before the Karien priests locate Sanctuary? They’ve probably pinpointed it already. It will take them some time to get there, though. A few weeks, maybe.” He noticed Garet’s sceptical look and continued his explanation looking straight at the commandant. “The reason the Sisterhood could never completely eradicate the Harshini was because Sanctuary was taken out of time. I won’t try explaining how—you probably wouldn’t believe me, anyway. Suffice to say that the strain of keeping it hidden has finally taken its toll on King Korandellan. Sanctuary is back in real time and the Kariens will be at its gates within weeks.”
“That would be convenient,” Garet remarked. “It might get them away from ours.”
“But can’t the Harshini simply hide Sanctuary again?” Mandah asked, with a glare at Garet. She was a pagan and worshipped the Harshini along with their gods. R’shiel found herself with an unexpected ally.
Brak shook his head. “If Korandellan let it return, then he’s exhausted. Keeping Sanctuary out of time takes a lot less effort than actually sending it there.”
“I can’t spare the men to go trekking off into the wilderness, or wherever Sanctuary is to help them, R’shiel,” Tarja told her. “Even if we could get past the Kariens.”
“Then we have to bring the Harshini here. To the Citadel.”
They all turned and looked at her.
“
What
?” Garet demanded in horror.
“The Harshini can’t be killed here. The Citadel won’t permit it.”
“And you think we’re going to let you bring the Harshini into the Citadel? Absolutely not!” Garet snapped before anyone could say a word.
“But you must!” Mandah cried. “The Harshini will be slaughtered if you deny them shelter.”
“Young woman, every Defender in Medalon has been trained to hunt the Harshini down and kill them on sight. And you expect us to let them back into the Citadel?”
“Tarja?” Mandah begged, her green eyes moist. R’shiel watched her with interest, and more importantly, Tarja’s reaction. He seemed decidedly uncomfortable. Was Mandah the reason Tarja found it so easy to deny the geas? She forced the thought from her mind. She had other, more important things to deal with.
“Even if I agree, what makes you think the Harshini will want to come?” Tarja asked.
“It’s that or die in Sanctuary. They can’t willingly take their own lives and staying at Sanctuary would be tantamount to doing that, if there was a chance they could return here to safety.”
“What about Loclon?”
“He’ll keep.”
“You were burning with vengeance a couple of hours ago.”
“A couple of hours ago I hadn’t inadvertently put several hundred innocent lives in danger.”
“You bring the Harshini back in here and we’ll be neck deep in pagan rituals within days,” Garet warned.
“We have a common enemy, Garet,” Tarja pointed out. “I’m inclined to let them come, simply to frustrate the Kariens.”
“If you don’t let them come, you’ll have the blood of the Harshini on your hands,” R’shiel added.
Garet laughed sourly. “Do you know how many Harshini the Defenders have killed in the last two hundred years, R’shiel? There’s plenty of blood on our hands already. A bit more won’t make that much difference.”
“Then it is time to undo some of the damage,” Mandah declared. “You must let them back, Tarja! If you want the pagans to follow you, you can do nothing else.”
“It didn’t take you long to learn the art of political blackmail, did it?” Garet snapped at Mandah, and then turned to Tarja. “It’s your decision. You’re the Lord Defender now. Just so long as you understand the trouble you’re bringing down on us if you agree.”
Tarja nodded, but didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Brak. “Where is Sanctuary, exactly?”
“In the Sanctuary Mountains.”
Tarja glared at him.
“It’s north-west of Testra,” Brak added. “That’s about as specific as I’m willing to get.”
“Then how are you going to get them out of there? I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t have the men to spare, and it’s too early in the spring for the passes to be cleared of snow, in any case. Even if we didn’t have half of Karien camped around our walls, I have a list as long as my arm of Sisters we need to arrest before they can get organised against us. I don’t know that I can help you, even if I was inclined to.”
“They can fly,” R’shiel said. “On dragons.”
“Oh, well that should reassure the population,”
Garet remarked sourly. “A few hundred dragons landing in the Citadel loaded with a race we’ve spent two centuries convincing them we’ve eradicated.”
“Tarja, please,” R’shiel asked, ignoring Garet’s sarcasm. She needed him to agree. She needed the Harshini safe. Her conscience wouldn’t permit anything else.
“I don’t suppose there is any way you can do this discreetly?” he asked.
“You mean try to avoid a few hundred dragons landing in the Citadel loaded with a race that you’ve spent two centuries convincing your people you eradicated?” Brak asked drily.
“That would be a good start.”
R’shiel glanced at Brak, who thought for a moment then shook her head. “Not with the Kariens blocking their path.”
“Even if you can get them here in one piece,” Garet pointed out, “chances are they’ll be attacked on sight, once our people see them.”
“Then you’d best make sure they’re protected,” R’shiel warned. “You claim you want a different world from the one the Sisterhood left you. Learning to live with the original inhabitants of Medalon seems like a good place to start. You never know, Garet, you may even learn something from them.”
“I’m learning where your loyalties lie pretty quickly,” he accused.
“My loyalty is to Medalon.”
“You’ve an interesting way of showing it.”
“Enough, Garet,” Tarja sighed. “Arguing will get us nowhere. The Harshini can return, R’shiel, but only if you can promise me that they will not try to
reclaim the Citadel or cause any more trouble than they have to.”
“Interesting that you suspect the Harshini of trying to reclaim the Citadel,” Brak said with a smile. “Have you considered what will happen if the Citadel tries to reclaim the Harshini?”
“What do you mean by that?” Garet asked suspiciously.
“He doesn’t mean anything,” R’shiel cut in, before Brak could say anything further. “Do I have your word on this, Tarja?”
He nodded, but he didn’t seem very pleased with the decision.
“Then I’ll summon Dranymire and the demons.”
“Will you send the Divine Ones a message?” Mandah asked. Her eyes were alight at the prospect of seeing a real demon and of meeting the fabled race that she so admired.
“No. I’m going to have to return to Sanctuary myself to convince the Harshini that any asylum they are offered in the Citadel is genuine.”
“Can’t Brak go alone?” Tarja asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not the one who brought this on, nor I am going to be the one to convince Korandellan and his people that you have opened up the Citadel to the Harshini. It will have to come from R’shiel.”
She nodded and looked at Brak. “Will you come with me?”
“Don’t I always?” he said.
“R’shiel!”
She stopped and turned, waiting for Mandah to
catch up with her. The young rebel closed the door of the First Sister’s office and hurried towards them along the carpeted hall.
“What is it, Mandah?”
“Could I speak with you?”
R’shiel shrugged. “I suppose.”
“About Tarja.”
“What about him?”
Mandah stopped before her, taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself mentally for what she planned to say. Brak walked on ahead, leaving them some semblance of privacy. “You know what happened, don’t you? About the geas?”
“Yes, but how did you know about it?”
“You forget that I’m a pagan, R’shiel. I know more about the gods and the Harshini than you do.”
“That’s not difficult,” she agreed with a wan smile.
“It’s just…well, I wanted to know…”
“What? If I still have some claim on him?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’ve done it since we first met. Remember that night in the stables in Reddingdale, when you helped us escape the Defenders? You could have found a dozen other ways to hide Tarja, but you had to throw yourself down on top of him and start kissing him.” R’shiel smiled suddenly. “He’s yours if you want him, Mandah. He certainly doesn’t want me any more.”
“R’shiel, I don’t want you to think that…well, that I’m benefiting from your misfortune.”
“Don’t worry, Mandah. Tarja is yours if you can hold him. He’s not mine. He never really was.”
Mandah studied her for a moment, as if trying to detect some glimmer of falsehood in R’shiel’s assurance.
“You’ve changed, R’shiel. There was a time when you would have denied me out of spite.”
“There was a time I would have done a lot of things, Mandah,” she said. “But I know when I’m beaten. I won’t stand in your way.”
“Then I have your blessing?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
Mandah impulsively hugged R’shiel and then ran back towards the First Sister’s office. And Tarja. R’shiel watched her disappear inside and turned to find Brak leaning on the banister at the top of the stairs, staring at her thoughtfully.
“What?”
“That was very noble of you.”
“You shouldn’t have been listening.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”
She stalked past him in annoyance. “Are you coming?”
“Of course, demon child,” he replied mockingly, as he followed her down the stairs. “Although, I have to say, you were wrong about one thing.”
R’shiel stopped and glared over her shoulder at him. “What was I wrong about?”
“You do
not
know when you’re beaten, R’shiel.”