They nodded. Sorne beckoned the man supervising the threshing and leant forward in the saddle, elbows resting on the pommel. ‘Where’s the baroness?’
‘Over in the orchard.’
Sorne nodded his thanks and headed that way.
Before he reached the orchard, he found Aingeru’s wife and children picking blackberries in high spirits.
Zaria’s long black hair tumbled down her back as she crawled out of a blackberry bush with a laugh. ‘I have it!’
She displayed the berry and dropped it in the basket.
‘Strangers, Ma,’ one of the twins reported.
Zaria straightened and shaded her eyes to study them as they walked their horses towards her. She had been a camp follower, a poor thirteen-year-old plucked from a street corner in Khitan because of her pretty face and swept along with the army. But she’d been lucky. Aingeru had taken a fancy to her, married her and got himself twin boys within a year. That had been nearly ten years ago.
Aingeru could have put his camp-wife aside when he was made a baron, but he’d kept her by him. Sorne believed Aingeru loved her.
A little girl of five ran over and hid behind her mother’s skirts. A boy of about three promptly sat in the grass and helped himself to his sister’s basket of berries, stuffing them into a mouth already stained with juice. Meanwhile the twins studied Sorne and his two companions. The boys were about nine and identical, with the olive skin and flashing black eyes of southerners.
‘Baroness Zaria,’ Sorne greeted her.
‘Warrior’s-voice.’
‘Not any more. I’m the king’s agent. And I bring good news.’
One of the twins whispered, ‘Why does he have only one eye?’
‘That’s what happens if you don’t listen to your mother and play with sticks,’ Sorne told him.
Zaria laughed. ‘Aingeru sent me a message to say the king has taken the Wyrd city.’
‘Yes. We have the city, but my news is about the king’s heir. Prince Cedon has been returned whole and healthy.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad. Jaraile will be relieved.’
Sorne knew a moment’s shame. When he’d suggested the Wyrds take the prince hostage, he hadn’t thought how the prince’s mother would pine for him. And they were still apart. He cleared his throat. ‘The king is planning a great feast. All of the barons and their families are to attend.’
‘What, the children as well?’
Sorne nodded. ‘King Charald wants his son to meet his future barons. Prince Cedon will be four in the spring. Bring the little ones. The king plans all manner of delights for the children, and feasts and masquerades for the grownups.’
‘A trip to port?’ One of the twins cried. ‘Say yes, Ma. Please say yes.’
Sorne smiled. ‘You’ll stay in the palace as King Charald’s guests.’
‘Can we see the ships?’ the same twin asked.
‘Can I ride my pony to port?’ the other wanted to know.
‘We’ll see.’ Zaria looked up at Sorne with a smile. ‘You’ll stay for the night?’
And make sure she left the next day. ‘Yes.’
‘It will be good to see Jaraile again,’ Zaria said.
Sorne hesitated. An unlikely friendship had sprung up between the camp follower and the queen, daughter of an old Chalcedonian family.
One of the twins tugged on Sorne’s arm. ‘Can I ride your horse?’
He looked to Zaria, who nodded.
By the time they turned to go back, four children were riding the horse, while Zaria carried the baskets of blackberries.
G
RAELEN WRAPPED HIS
arms around Valendia as the fleet made its way through the long, narrow headlands into Shifting-sands Bay. With the sun setting behind them, the sails were gilded and the sandstone towers of the stronghold glowed on the cliff top. A cold wind blew in from the sea, pinning his cloak to his back.
He shielded her from the chill with his body, and wished he could shield her from the machinations of the brotherhood. Kyredeon was up to something. He’d interviewed two of the refugees from All-father Tamaron’s brotherhood.
‘Everyone’s just gotten over their seasickness, now we’re back in port,’ Adept Haromyr said. He stood beside Tobazim, and as their companions laughed, Haromyr caught Graelen’s eye with a challenge.
See
, he seemed to say,
we have many supporters. Move against us and we will strike you down
.
On the mid-deck, the Malaunje of Kyredeon and Hueryx’s brotherhoods mingled. Both the foredeck and the two rear-decks were packed with T’En and a sprinkling of devotees, but a small space had been left around Graelen and his devotee; there were no brothers he could call his friends. After Paryx’s death, he’d lost contact with the young adepts and initiates.
He didn’t mind. Moments like this gave him privacy.
‘You’ve been very quiet,’ Valendia whispered.
‘And you don’t play the zither.’
‘Because every time I look at it I think of
him
and my skin crawls.’
He could sense her indignation. It was a pure, clean emotion and it made him smile.
‘The all-father and his two seconds asked something of you that day, Grae. What was it?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘They told you to kill Adept Tobazim and Captain Ardonyx,’ she said, proving there was no point trying to hide things from her. ‘And they threatened me.’
‘They didn’t need to threaten you.’
She turned in the circle of his arms. ‘I’ve only lived with the brotherhood four days and I can’t stand it. Everyone is afraid of the all-father and his seconds, and afraid of each other.’
‘Because Kyredeon has spies.’
‘How can you bear it?’
‘It was not this bad in the city. We had the whole palace, and the free quarter to roam.’ But even so, he had found it claustrophobic, and had welcomed the chance to go to port.
‘Ceyne says –’
‘You’ve been spending a lot of time with him. Should I be worried?’
‘He needed an assistant, as you very well know.’ She thumped his chest, then grew serious. ‘The saw-bones says the all-father sets the tone for the brotherhood. He says Kyredeon came to power through deceit and has held onto power through coercion and intimidation. Ceyne told me Paryx’s gift went bad because he could not bear the things Kyredeon made him do. Oh, Grae...’ Tears glittered in her beautiful wine-dark eyes. ‘I can feel you drawing away from me, growing cold. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.’
He kissed her forehead. ‘You won’t lose me.’
‘There are more ways to lose you than in death. Don’t do this thing for Kyredeon, Grae. It will kill something in you.’
He could not give her the answer she wanted so he said nothing.
‘Ceyne says –’
‘That saw-bones has been saying far too much.’
‘He counts you as his friend, Grae. Perhaps it is time for Kyredeon to step down –’
‘All-fathers don’t step down, Dia. They are challenged for the leadership, and they either die defending their position or they kill their opponents and retain it.’
She nodded. ‘Can you bear to go on serving an all-father you don’t respect?’
Graelen swallowed. After speaking with Tobazim, he had been watching the brotherhood alliances, weighing up who had the power and the numbers. ‘Tobazim is not powerful enough to defeat Kyredeon. If he mounts a challenge and loses, all those who supported him will be purged. I could not risk you –’
‘Would you rather lose me by degrees?’ She pushed his arm aside and walked away, returning to the infirmary.
Graelen gripped the rail as the alternatives went round and round in his mind. He knew who he would rather serve as all-father, but for Valendia’s sake, he had to back the winner.
As he watched the ship drop anchor, Tobazim came out of the cabin and began to go through his exercises with the kind of dedication more often seen in a warrior than a scholar. He moved with grace and precision.
Someone came up behind Graelen and he turned, hand going to his knife hilt.
The brotherhood’s voice-of-reason glanced down. ‘You’d better not draw that against me.’
Graelen forced his hand to release the knife hilt.
‘The all-father wants to see you.’
Had word of his conversation with Tobazim filtered through to Kyredeon? Graelen followed the voice-of-reason down the passage, thinking that if the worst came to the worst and it looked like they’d execute him, he would ask Ceyne to try to save Valendia. But he doubted there would be time.
As Graelen stepped through the cabin door, the hand-of-force caught his arm, shoved it up behind his back, and forced him to his knees.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the gift-benediction?’ Kyredeon demanded.
Graelen gaped in surprise.
‘He has no idea,’ the voice-of-reason said. ‘I told you –’
‘You used to be so good at bringing me information.’ Kyredeon signalled Hand-of-force Oriemn to let Graelen up. ‘What happened?’
‘I used to go drinking with the initiates and young adepts.’ He stood, shrugging his shoulder to ease the pain. ‘But Paryx is dead and I’ve been away from the brotherhood for too long. No one trusts me now that they know...’ Graelen glared at Oriemn and his three gift-warriors. Kyredeon’s first hand-of-force hadn’t liked him, but Graelen suspected this one hated him. ‘It used to be only a whisper, but someone let my true identity and role in the brotherhood become general knowledge. It’s hard to blend in, if everyone says, “look, there goes Kyredeon’s assassin.”’
‘So you’re useless?’ Oriemn said.
‘If you know nothing of the gift-benediction, step aside and keep quiet,’ Kyredeon told Graelen. He nodded to his hand-of-force. ‘Send for my inner circle, then fetch Ardonyx. Rough him up a little and make sure everyone sees.’
After Oriemn and his followers walked out, the voice-of-reason asked, ‘Why not send for both Tobazim and Ardonyx?’
‘Because I want to provoke Tobazim into defending Ardonyx. On its own, the fact that they performed a gift-benediction without my permission is not enough to punish them.’
‘But it was performed on one of All-father Tamaron’s Malaunje.’
‘The Malaunje woman had been raped by Mieren. She came to them for help, requesting the gift-benediction because it improved the chances of her baby being born Malaunje. If anything, they have won stature for the brotherhood.’ Kyredeon gave a cunning grin. ‘But if I can make Tobazim think Ardonyx is under threat and force him to strike before he’s ready, I can cripple him before he grows too powerful. If I’m lucky, I can kill him and a few of his supporters and claim it was self-defence.’
T
OBAZIM COMPLETED THE
exercises and came back into a ready stance. Sweat dripped from his eyebrows, stinging his eyes. His muscles burned and trembled, and his heart raced.
But he could still feel it – the craving for the causare’s gift. It had started the second day after the effect of the gift-infusion faded, and it had not let up. He’d told no one. Not even Ardonyx, who had asked only this morning if something was wrong. He didn’t dare admit his weakness.
‘Are you done?’ Haromyr asked. ‘They’ll be serving up the evening meal soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.’
‘It’ll be good to eat a meal that doesn’t try to get away from us,’ Eryx said.
‘Or come back up again,’ Athlyn added. ‘Why did I have to throw up in front of Valendia?’
The other two laughed.
They’d appointed themselves Tobazim’s bodyguards. He let them think his strict exercise regime was a ploy to warn off attackers, rather than a desperate attempt to rid himself of this compulsion to go to the causare.
‘I’m done.’ He’d bathe, then eat. Hopefully, he’d be so exhausted, he’d be able to sleep.
The bathing chamber was wreathed in steam, and the last few initiates left hurriedly when they saw who it was. Tobazim couldn’t decide if they were afraid of him, or showing deference. His gift surged and he saw the initiates at the base of the brotherhood pyramid; they were showing deference. This new aspect of his gift unsettled him.
He stripped and stepped into the bath, which was decidedly cool. All the better; it would sharpen his senses.
‘Go save us some food,’ Haromyr told Athlyn, who hurried away.
The causare’s gift was the ability to read people. Tobazim had always been able to judge stresses in the process of construction. It seemed her gift-infusion had roused a new aspect to his gift, making him something between a raedan and a builder. He’d only ever heard of new facets of a T’En’s gift arising after a life and death experience on the higher plane.
Tobazim rose from the bath, rubbed himself dry and dressed in breeches and undershirt. The three of them stepped out into the young adepts’ cabin where the others were eating, sitting cross-legged on their bedrolls.
‘Where’s Athlyn?’ Haromyr muttered. ‘I swear if I miss out on dinner, I’ll –’
The cabin door opened and Athlyn peered in. His gaze raked the gathering. As soon as he spotted Tobazim, he jerked his head, beckoning him.
Tobazim crossed the cabin.
Haromyr and Eryx followed, hands going to the hilts of their knives. The general chatter died down. All three of them went to the door, stepping out onto the passage and then onto the mid-deck, where Ionnyn waited with one of the gift-warriors from All-father Tamaron’s brotherhood.
The large sailor radiated gift aggression.
‘What’s wrong?’ Tobazim asked.
‘They’ve snatched Ardonyx,’ Ionnyn said. ‘We have to save him.’
Tobazim glanced to Athlyn. ‘Why did they take him?’
Athlyn glanced to Gift-warrior Norsasno.
The big adept from Tamaron’s brotherhood shrugged. ‘I don’t know if this has anything to do with it, but Kyredeon sent for Lysarna and Imokara. They say he interviewed them about the gift-benediction you and Ardonyx performed not long after you first arrived on the wharf.’
Haromyr swore softly.
‘It’s four days since Kyredeon arrived in port. I’m surprised it took so long.’ Tobazim bluffed. ‘Has he sent for me?’
‘No. He sent for the assassin –’
‘And his hand-of-force just grabbed Ardonyx from the rear-deck.’ Ionnyn bristled. ‘Even though the captain didn’t resist, Oriemn’s followers beat him.’
‘This can’t be about the gift-benediction,’ Tobazim said with as much conviction as he could muster. He caught Norsasno’s eye. ‘Scholar Hakonnyn hasn’t complained about our role in it, has he?’