Authors: Fiona McIntosh
Kirin put his hand against his chest. ‘I’m Kirin,’ he said. ‘From Cremond.’
‘Clovis,’ his companion replied.
‘Are you relatives?’ the man asked, consulting his paperwork.
They shook their heads, sharing a quizzical look.
‘Oh, it’s just that you seemed friendly enough with each other.’
‘Would it help if we were related?’ Kirin asked.
The man grimaced. ‘I’m afraid not. Master Clovis, it says here that you have an ability in telling fortunes … is that right?’
Clovis nodded. ‘I used to live in Vorgaven and I mainly worked for the wealthy seafaring traders. I could give them an insight into buying/selling, weather patterns, what to invest in, that sort of thing.’
‘And how accurate were you in your predictions, Master Clovis?’ the man asked, eyeing him directly.
‘No one complained,’ Clovis replied, deliberately vague. He felt Kirin’s body weight shift next to him. Kirin wanted him to underplay his talent.
‘Are you a rich man?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Do you own your own dwelling?’
‘I do, er, did, yes.’
‘Where exactly?’
‘Do you know Vorgaven?’ Clovis asked.
‘Indeed.’
‘Our house was on a small piece of land on the peninsula that looks out to Medhaven.’
‘That’s old Jed’s land isn’t it?’
Clovis was impressed. Roxburgh was one of the more powerful of the sailing merchant dynasties and no one called old Master Roxburgh by his first name. ‘Yes, I was able to secure a small holding on it.’
‘Then you are not poor, Master Clovis.’
‘I didn’t say I was. You asked if I am wealthy, which I am not.’
The stranger smiled. ‘It seems to me that your predictions, however ordinary you think them, obviously pleased enough of the right people. You’ll do.’
‘Do what?’
‘Just wait over there, Master Clovis,’ the man said. ‘Now you … what is it you do?’ he asked Kirin, effectively dismissing Clovis, who had no choice but to shuffle away, his clanking chains noisy in the thick silence.
‘I am from the Academy at Cremond.’
‘And you are a teacher?’
‘No. I’ve explained this all before.’
‘Then take a moment to explain to me, Master Kirin. It seems your life might depend upon it.’
Kirin quickly summarised his position at the Academy.
‘I see. At the Academy did you know Scholar Shuler? He was part of the administration so I’m sure you would have run across him.’
Kirin looked worried as he thought deeply. Clovis could see that his friend was uncomfortable and he begged Lo inwardly to bring this man, Shuler, and his face to mind. He felt sick when Kirin shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I have no recollection of this person.’
‘Good, because he doesn’t exist,’ the man said smoothly. ‘I was simply testing you. A desperate person agrees to anything.’ He twitched another attempt at a smile, failing again. ‘So, you can sense aspects of people — is that a fair way of putting it?’
Kirin nodded.
‘Can you sense what they may do next?’
Clovis believed this was a trick question. The stranger was leading Kirin somewhere and he was sure Kirin was damned either way he answered.
‘Master Kirin?’ the man prompted.
‘Er, sometimes I can get a feel for what they believe their alternatives are, and I can on occasion guide them in making a decision. Of course, this is not a precise skill, sir. How I interpret something is likely to be very different to how you might, for instance. It’s all very subjective.’
Now the man did smile, genuinely. ‘You’re a slippery character, Master Kirin. Intelligent too. You do want to survive this … well, shall we say trial?’
‘Why don’t we say that? It’s such a convenient word to hide behind, with the nice suggestion that there’s anything fair or even remotely objective about this interview.’
The stranger sat back and regarded Kirin with a hard stare. Clovis was sure if a pin dropped you could hear it anywhere in the room, such was the intense, heavy silence that surrounded his friend’s remark.
‘You’re a brave man, Master Kirin,’ the stranger finally said softly.
‘I am young, I have only really just begun living the life I want. I have a mild talent for essentially what amounts to little more than being a good judge of character, perhaps being able to get to the truth of someone. That’s all. I am tired of trying to use it to barter for my life. So if it’s as worthless as I feel it is, let’s stop this charade. If I’m to be killed, let’s get it over with. I’m sure far better people with more meaningful lives have already gone to Lo on your leader’s whim, although why a man of the Set would join these barbarians for any other reason than pure cowardice, I can’t think of one.’
Clovis gasped, along with the others in the room.
‘You may move over to stand with your friend, Master Kirin,’ the man said firmly. ‘Next, Jervyn of Medhaven, where are you?’
Kirin retreated, glaring at the stranger, who ignored him, Clovis noted.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he growled under his breath as Kirin arrived to stand alongside him.
Kirin turned his back to the stranger and winked at Clovis. ‘We’ve got nothing to lose. Trust me, my friend.’ Then he staggered, clutching for the wall.
‘What’s wrong?’ Clovis asked, grabbing at Kirin’s arm.
‘Nothing. Tired, I suppose.’
‘Tired? You’ve got a dozen years on me!’
‘I meant tired of all this artifice.’
‘Well, it was your idea,’ Clovis reminded him. ‘Now you’ve got him fired up and probably in a mean mood.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Kirin murmured. He took a deep breath and stood straight again. ‘I think he liked us.’
Clovis sneered but he noticed Reuth had been called. For some reason he held his breath. The conversation went much the same way as all the others. The man interviewed all of the people slowly, deliberately, never raising his voice or threatening. He simply listened, prompted and made a few notes.
Finally he sighed and looked up from his desk. ‘Master Kirin? Come here, would you? You too, Reuth.’
Clovis frowned, nodded at Kirin who looked a bit pale, he had to admit. Perhaps the young man’s bravado was failing him?
‘Yes?’ Kirin said, moving once again before the interrogator.
‘I’m going to give you a second opportunity to fight for life.’
‘I told you, I’m not interested in bargaining for my life any longer.’
‘Not yours, Master Kirin. His,’ the man said, pointing at Clovis. ‘Tell me what I want to know and I will save his life. Continue treating me with contempt and I shall have him brutally tortured and killed in front of you. Now, come stand here beside me, please.’
Kirin moved slowly, a look of disbelief on his wan face. He glanced towards Clovis who could do nothing but stare back.
‘Good,’ the man said. ‘Now perhaps you’ve already met and spoken with Reuth Maegren.’
‘Briefly and for the first time today,’ Kirin said.
‘That’s fine. It matters not. Reuth tells me she has visions but like you and your companion, she chooses not to make much more of her talent. If anything she is reticent about it. Do you understand what I mean when I say reticent?’
‘Yes, curiously enough for this peasant, he does understand,’ Kirin said in a cutting tone.
‘Careful, Master Kirin. I want you to use your skills — the ones you think so little of — and tell me if she lies.’
Kirin looked at him, aghast. ‘I can’t —’
‘I’d like you to try, Master Kirin. Remember, your friend’s life depends on your candour. Do your best and you’ll save him a lot of pain.’
‘May I know your name?’ Kirin asked.
‘Certainly. It’s Freath.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘For when you kill me, do you mean?’
‘There’s no violence in me, so I doubt your death will be by my hand.’
‘Shall we get on?’
Clovis could see Kirin’s jaw grind. Moments later Kirin opened his eyes. ‘The woman does not lie. She has visions. They are reliable but they are infrequent. There, satisfied? Whether I’m right or wrong is up to you now to decide but I’ve done as you’ve asked. I trust Master Clovis is safe?’
‘For the time being,’ Freath said. But as Kirin moved away, he stopped him again. ‘Not so fast, Master Kirin. Your friend is safe at this moment because of what you told me about this woman. But now I wish you to give me similar insight into everyone gathered. I presume you’d happily lie about Master Clovis so we’ll leave him out of it. Let’s begin with … Jervyn of Medhaven.’
Kirin hung his head. Clovis understood now that his friend was indeed torn between two evils. He didn’t want to display his skills but at the same time lives were in the balance, especially his and he realised as new as their friendship was, Kirin would not easily let Clovis suffer.
‘Jervyn has no ability to divine using water, the man who claims to make things disappear is a conjuror at best, the woman who can understand animals is simply very good with them — she has no magic. The healer woman is very talented at what she does. The girl who reads blood is simply ghoulish but the boy who dreams the future possibly has an untapped skill. Old Torren can make things grow — he has limited but unique power …’ On Kirin went, as though reciting from a list in his head, damning some and saving others. All the while he seemed to shrink. By the end of it he looked haggard.
‘Master Kirin, are you unwell?’
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘Make room for him to lie down,’ Freath ordered. By now the chamber had quietly split itself into two groups: those Kirin had denounced and those he had supported. It was only those from this latter group who moved to help. The others, rather understandably, Clovis realised, would have happily let him drop dead. Freath called for a guard and ordered that Kirin be seen to. Shortly after they carried his friend away, Stracker returned to the chamber.
‘Well, Freath, how have you fared?’
‘I have chosen.’
‘Good. Give me the names.’
‘What will happen to the rest of these folk?’
‘Never you mind,’ Stracker said, though his smile was malicious.
‘But I do mind. I wish to speak with your leader.’
Stracker laughed aloud. ‘No.’
‘Then you will risk his wrath. He will want to know what I have discovered.’
‘Stop worrying, Freath. They’re all safe, because they all have talents. Choose the pair you want.’
‘They are all safe?’ Freath confirmed.
‘I give you my word. Now hurry, please. I have to report to Loethar.’
Freath began. ‘Everyone over here is of no use to me. The people over here possess unique skills that your leader should know about, especially the middle-aged woman. The older one is a talented healer, which I’m sure will be handy for you, and the youngster has valuable insights through dreams. The old man uses a magic of his own to make things grow — again a rare talent, one you should make good use of.’
‘And the jokers?’
‘They’re my choice, Stracker. Masters Clovis and Kirin are mine.’
‘I passed the younger one on my way in. He looks half dead. Are you sure you want him?’
‘I’m sure. Now let me go check on him.’
Stracker stepped back, sneering as Freath passed by. As soon as Freath had gone, the barbarian called his guards.
‘Take this lot away,’ he said, pointing to those Kirin had named as untalented. ‘You know what to do.’
Men and women from that group instantly began to cry out, screaming for mercy. Clovis pulled Reuth, Torren, the youth, the silent young woman, the old man and the older woman back toward the window.
‘You lot wait here. Don’t try anything foolish,’ Stracker warned and was gone before they’d even had a chance to finish mumbling their agreement.
Gavriel was nearing the kitchen and although the walls were impenetrable here, he found himself tiptoeing. Fear and anticipation were combining to put him on edge. He was very aware that Leo would be counting the minutes as well and the longer he was away the more anxious the king would become. This was the first time in two days he was no longer within touching distance of his charge and that was making him additionally nervous. His father’s words rang ominously in his mind: ‘
Do not
leave him for so much as a second. You and he must all but inhale the same breath of air,’ De Vis had ordered before he’d squeezed his son’s shoulder and gestured to his twin to follow him. Gavriel had not been privy to Corbel’s journey or where he would go after he had killed the baby. Though Gavriel knew Corbel could not, would not have ever denied his father anything, this murder of an innocent was cruel to ask of anyone.
Gavriel’s stomach complained loudly of its emptiness and he banished thoughts of his family. The sound seemed to echo around the tiny alley of the ingress that he was now crawling along as the roof of the secret tunnel dropped low. He could see the glints of shiny pots and pans in the distance through a grille, which he’d reached on his belly. He had to admit he’d never noticed the cunning opening so high in the kitchens. But then the kitchens themselves were a vast complex of chambers and everyone who entered had their mind on food, eyes always drawn to the endless array of pies, breads, stews, roasts, custards and tarts that seemed to continuously be coming from the ovens and cooking areas.
He looked out now into the kitchen and was relieved to find it deserted, though it seemed so unnatural. Cook always had someone on duty to stir the pot of porridge or prepare vegetables for the next day, keep the ovens stoked. The kitchens never slept but this dawn — he thought he could hear the first stirrings of the larks outside — it was silent and lonely. No doubt a reflection of the whole palace. Still, desertion suited his needs.
The sky was beginning to lighten, throwing some murky but nonetheless welcome illumination into the cavernous chamber through the high windows. He squinted into the dimness, scanning quickly for any easy way to get to food. He hoped he wasn’t going to have to climb down and make a dash for the larder. Any stale bread, overripe fruit, perhaps even soup left to allow its fat to separate would do.
But there was nothing left out. Nothing! ‘Lo’s wrath!’ Gavriel cursed, knowing he had no choice now but to put himself into the vulnerable situation of having to come out into the open of the kitchen, make his way across the entire chamber to the pantry and cold larder and then steal back with whatever food he could loot and carry and, more importantly, climb back up through the small hole with. Lucky his father had insisted he and Corbel stay so lean. They used to joke that their father deliberately starved them to make real men of them. The truth was the legate simply maintained that a trim man was a healthy one; a lean man could run faster, ride easier, and last longer in any sort of stamina contest.