Sinner (11 page)

Even more bewildered, Zenith looked at Caelum. The writing was in Zenith’s own hand. “Who wrote this?”

“Niah, Azhure’s mother.”

Niah?

“Read it, Zenith.”

Zenith dropped her eyes to the letter. Quashing the sudden wave of apprehension that almost engulfed her, she opened the envelope and took the letter out. Hands trembling, she unfolded it and began to read, her eyes skipping over the irrelevant passages.

My dearest daughter Azhure, may long life and joy be yours forever…

Five nights ago you were conceived and tonight, after I put down my pen and seal this letter, I will leave this blessed isle. I will not return – but one day I hope you will come back.

Five nights ago your father came to me.

It was the fullness of the moon, and it was my privilege, as First Priestess, to sit and let its light and life wash over me in the Dome of the Moon. I heard his voice before I saw him.

“Niah,” a voice resonant with power whispered through the Dome, and I started, because it was many years since I had heard my birth name.

“Niah,” the voice whispered again, and I trembled in fear. Were the gods displeased with me? Had I not honoured them correctly during my years on this sacred isle and in this sacred Temple?

“Niah,” the voice whispered yet again, and my trembling increased, for despite my lifetime of chastity I recognised the timbre of barely controlled desire…and I was afraid.

I stood…my eyes frantically searched the roof overhead and for long moments I
could see nothing, then a faint movement caught my eye.

A shadow was spiralling down from the roof of the Dome…The shadow laughed and spoke my name again as he alighted before me.

“I have chosen you to bear my daughter,” he said, and he held out his hand, his fingers flaring. “Her name will be Azhure.”

At that moment my fear vanished as if it had never existed. Azhure…Azhure…I had never seen such a man as your father and I know I will not again during this life…His wings shone gold, even in the dark night of the Dome, and his hair glowed with copper fire. His eyes were violet, and they were hungry with magic.

Azhure, as Priestesses of the Stars we are taught to accede to every desire of the gods, even if we are bewildered by their wishes, but I went to him with willingness, not with duty. I wore but a simple shift, and as his eyes and fingers flared wider I stepped out of it and walked to meet his hand.

As his hand grasped mine it was as if I was surrounded by Song, and as his mouth captured mine it was as if I was enveloped by the surge of the Stars in their Dance. His power was so all-consuming that I knew he could have snuffed out my life with only a thought. Perhaps I should have been terrified, but he was gentle for a god – not what I might have expected – and if he caused me any pain that night I do not remember it. But what I do remember…ah, Azhure, perhaps you have
had your own lover by now, but do you know what it feels like to lie with one who can wield the power of the Stars through his body? At times I know he took me perilously close to death as he wove his enchantments through me and made you within my womb, but I trusted him and let him do what he wanted and lay back in his wings as he wrapped them about me and yielded with delight and garnered delight five-fold in return.

Zenith blinked, for it was as if she were there,
feeling
this, not reading about it. She…she could remember writing these words, remember sitting there for almost an hour at this point, her mouth curling softly in memory of that night of passion and loving. She had not known his name then, but that had not mattered very much, not when she had his body to grasp to her, not when both she and he burned with such virulent desire.

Zenith shuddered. Gods! What was happening to her?

Even as he withdrew from my body I could feel the fire that he had seeded in my womb erupt into new life. He laughed gently at the cry that escaped my lips and at the expression in my eyes, but I could see his own eyes widen to mirror the wonder that filled mine. For a long time we lay still, his body heavy on mine, our eyes staring into each other’s depths, as we felt you spring to life within my womb.

Zenith’s mouth formed the word “No”, but she did not voice it. She was no longer in her mother’s chamber in Sigholt, but lying on the cold floor of the Dome of the Moon, staring into WolfStar’s eyes as he lay atop her.

After a moment she managed to regain enough control so she could resume reading the letter. Niah wrote of how the “god” – WolfStar – had told her she would have to travel to Smyrton, wed the local Plough-Keeper, Hagen, and bear her child. There the child, Azhure, would eventually meet the StarMan.

I know that I will die in Smyrton, and I know that the man your father sends me to meet and to marry will also be my murderer. I know that my days will be numbered from the hour that I give you birth. It is a harsh thing that your father makes me do, for how will I be able to submit to this Plough-Keeper Hagen, knowing I will die at his hands, and keep a smile light on my face and my body willing? How can I submit to any man, having known the god who fathered you? How can I submit to a life dominated by the hated Brotherhood of the Seneschal, when I have been First Priestess of the Order of the Stars?

Your father saw my doubts and saw my future pain, and he told me that one day I will be reborn to be his lover forever.

“No, no, no, no.” Zenith shook as the implications of what she was reading began to sink in. “
No!
”

He said that he had died and yet lived again, and that I would follow a similar path.

He said that he loved me.

Perhaps he lied, but I choose not to think so. To do otherwise would be to submit to despair. His promise, as your life, will keep me through and past my death into my next existence.

“I do not believe it,” Zenith said with all the calmness she could muster. She carefully folded the letter in half and handed it back to Caelum. “Read it. But do not believe it. It is a mistake. A lie.”

Caelum walked slowly over to the fire, standing with his back to the flames as he read through the letter once, then once more, far more slowly.

“I knew some of this,” he said, finally looking up. “I knew that WolfStar came to Niah in the Dome of the Moon. I knew how Niah died. But this…this promise that WolfStar made to Niah…that she would live again…that I did not know.”

“But Mother
did
know. She knew…all these years! Knew and never told me! Why?”

Is that why Mother did not give me a Star name? Zenith wondered. Because she knew I was Niah reborn?

“Why?” Caelum shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands out. “Zenith, I don’t know. Maybe she felt there was no point telling you until…until WolfStar reappeared. Gods! I don’t know!”

“So she let me find out
this
way?”

“Zenith.” Caelum came back to sit by her side, his voice gentle. “If there is one thing I have learned from my parents’ lives, and from my own, it is that we are all born with a destiny. My parents were into their third decades before their destinies became clear to them, and –”

“No!” Zenith took the letter from Caelum’s hand and began to turn it over and over in her own. “I will
not
accept it!”

“– and I have had to accept that my destiny is as StarSon, and my burden is Tencendor.”

“I am
Zenith!
No-one else!”

“Yes, my dear, yes. But…but it is apparent that you also have Niah’s soul and many of her memories, and –”

“No!” How many times had she shouted that
negative tonight, Zenith numbly wondered in a dark recess of her mind, and how many
more
times would she have to shout it?

“– and,” Caelum continued, speaking over Zenith’s increasing denials, “you still have life. You have all of your own memories and experiences. You must only come to terms with the fact that you also have a set of memories and experiences that stretch back before your birth.”

“No!” Zenith leapt to her feet and began pacing restlessly about the room. What now was truly, truly terrifying was the fact that as she had shouted that “No!” some part of her mind had whispered back,
Yes!

She was Niah reborn…born to live out Niah’s yearnings, Niah’s life.

No!

She was Niah, reborn, both mother and daughter to Azhure.

No!

She was Niah reborn, and what that meant was that she no longer had any say in her own life, because her life would now be lived according to Niah’s dictates, Niah’s dreams.

“No!”

She would live her life locked in the arms of
Niah’s
lover.

“I am
not
Niah!” she whispered, low and fierce. How
could
she be?

“Zenith! Listen to me!” Now Caelum was before her, his face was determined, his voice hard. “Zenith, you will have to adjust, but you will be able to –”

“No! No! No!” Zenith wrenched herself from Caelum’s grasp and stumbled across the room. With vicious movements she tore the letter into shreds and threw the pieces into the fire.

“Niah is
dead!
” Not living in her. Not! Had this misplaced ghost always been hiding in her bodily spaces, waiting for a moment when she could – no! She could not even
think
it!

“No!” Zenith screamed one last time and fled from the chamber.

Caelum stood in the middle of his chamber, staring after her, trying to make sense of her reaction. It had been a shock, of course…but surely if she calmed down, thought it through, and accepted it, then it would be easier. Perhaps she’d best be left alone for a while. Perhaps all she needed was time.

Then Caelum remembered how WolfStar had kissed RiverStar, and his eyes clouded over. Not RiverStar! No! Better Zenith, better by far. Zenith must learn to accept WolfStar, and WolfStar surely would not harm her if he loved her.

But…

“Leave her alone for a few days, WolfStar,” he said into the empty room, but he spread the words over and through Tencendor with his power, seeking out the Enchanter. “Give her time.”

Somehow he felt, if not saw, WolfStar’s predatory grin.

T
he Great Hall of Sigholt sat silent, waiting, as the morning sun danced down through the high arched windows set among the massive roof beams. Banners, pennants and standards hung from walls and beams, their fields and borders rippling slightly in the warming air. From the windows the silvery-grey walls fell unfettered for twenty paces, eventually dividing into immense arched columns, behind which shifted the shadowy spaces of the cloisters. The floor was utterly bare, the newly scrubbed and sanded flagstones gleaming almost ivory in this bright light.

In the very centre of the Hall sat a great circular golden oak table. Seven chairs were arranged about it.

About eight paces from this great table, and between it and the empty fireplace, were arranged some three smaller tables, each draped with black cloth and with a dozen chairs behind them.

The notaries were first to enter, their faces solemn with importance, their scarlet robes stiff with self-worth. Behind them came their secretaries – arms bustling with ledgers, accounts, papers, scrolls and the minutiae of a nation’s life – and their scribes, carrying the quills and
inkwells of final judgment. Finally there was a brief scuttling of messenger boys, too overcome with the occasion to be anything but round-eyed and obedient.

Once the bureaucracy had arranged themselves at the black-draped tables, the messenger boys waiting behind them amid the columns, the honour guard entered. Three Wing of the Strike Force, unarmed, stood about the walls of the Great Hall, their black uniforms merging with the dimness behind the columns. When they were still, WingRidge led in twenty-five of the Lake Guard, who took a prominent position, standing in a ring ten paces back from the central circular table.

All the Council needed now were the main actors.

Of those, StarSon Caelum entered first. He wore black, as was his custom, but his face was far more careworn than usual. Without fuss he seated himself at the table. And then, in a procedure initiated by Caelum when he first assumed the Throne of the Stars, the heads of the Five Families entered simultaneously, each from a different door. They strode to the central table, their boot heels clicking, arriving to stand behind their chairs as simultaneously as they had entered the hall. All were unarmed, their swords left back in their chambers.

They waited. From the central doors Isfrael emerged.

As one they all turned to Caelum, and bowed.

“I thank you for your attendance here this day,” he said. “Be seated.”

Askam sat on Caelum’s immediate right, Zared his left. FreeFall sat next to Askam, Isfrael next to Zared. Sa’Domai and Yllgaine took the seats immediately opposite Caelum. There was nothing on the table before the men, save their differences.

“My friends,” Caelum said in a voice that, although soft, was so well modulated it carried easily to the men at the table, and to the notaries and secretaries eight paces
away. “I bid you welcome to Sigholt for this Council, and I express my regrets that it should be convened so hastily and so soon after our last Council.

“However, as you are all aware, there are matters which need to be discussed and decided among us. Chief among these matters is the issue of the taxes that Prince Askam has been forced to levy on the West. Over the past few weeks Askam has imposed taxation on goods moved by land or water through his territory, as well as on those families deciding to emigrate to the North.”

“‘Forced’ is hardly the word I’d use,” Zared muttered, his grey eyes on Askam.

“I had every right to impose those taxes –” Askam began, but Caelum silenced them both with an angry look.

“We are all aware of how onerous these taxes are,” he said. “A third of the value of goods is…exorbitant. Ten thousand gold pieces per family moving north is incomprehensible.”

Zared relaxed slightly.

“I wish to hear from the principals involved, then from Duke Theod and Earl Herme who were kind enough to ride to Sigholt to offer their views, then from the rest of you about this table. Askam, will you speak?”

Askam took a deep breath. “My friends, I am as aware as any of you how draconian these taxes sound. However, consider my position. For years I have worked tirelessly on Tencendor’s behalf, and on StarSon Caelum’s behalf. These efforts have cost me dearly. My creditors push for the return of their funds. These taxes will clear the West of debt within two years –”

“And two years is more than enough to drive your people into
starvation,
Askam!” Zared cried. “Curse you! There are better ways of raising revenue than stealing it from the mouths of those who can least afford to –”

“Oh, god’s arse, Zared!” Askam said. “This is all about
you!
Have you not been transporting
your
ore and gems and furs free of charge down to the southern markets at a handsome profit for decades? This talk of starving peasants is nonsense. Your purse has been dented – you who can
well
afford it – and thus you complain. I have not seen
you
spend more than a copper piece entertaining diplomats and foreign missions, nor founding the schools or universities that I have.”

“Be quiet, Askam,” Caelum said, then shifted his eyes slightly. “Zared, Askam
has
got a point there. You have indeed made free use of his extensive system of roads and river boats for many years now.”

“I have paid full price for their passage, StarSon,” Zared said.

“Still, Askam does have the right to impose taxes on external goods moving through his territory. The fact is, he could have levied this tax only on your goods, not on those of his own people.”

Zared held his breath for a moment, then spoke very deliberately. “The fact
is,
Caelum, that Askam has imposed a tax which directly hurts the West, and indirectly hurts another province. And the…human…populations of the West and North feel that they have been inordinately imposed upon. If these taxes are the result of debt run up in your cause, Caelum, then why do not
all
the peoples of Tencendor help retrieve the situation?”

“The Avar do not pay taxes,” Isfrael said, very low.

“And yet
my
people must!” Zared cried. “Can you not all of you see how dangerous this is? One race pays the debts of a nation of three races?”

“Enough,” Caelum said. “Before I ask the views of the Avar, Icarii and Ravensbund, I would have Herme and Theod enter.”

He nodded at the side tables, and one of the
secretaries hurried to open the doors, whisper urgently, and escort the Duke and Earl to the table.

Herme and Theod stood slightly to the right of Sa’Domai’s chair, where all could see them. Both wore tightly restrained expressions, both avoided looking at either Askam or Zared.

“Your views, gentlemen?” Caelum asked.

Herme spoke first, detailing how the taxes had impacted upon his own county of Avonsdale. All had been crippled, not only those with business moving goods on the road, but even the lowly farmers or labourers who moved neither stock nor fodder from their land.

“They can hardly afford food now, StarSon,” Herme finished. “If they cannot grow it, then they certainly cannot buy it, for merchants have been forced to increase the cost of all merchandise to cover the taxes.”

Which naturally, Zared thought, then increases the taxes in direct proportion to the inflated value of the goods.

Theod told a similar tale. The people of Jervois Landing, of whom almost all relied on trade to survive, would be destitute within the year. And yet they could look across the Nordra, look into eastern Tencendor under FreeFall’s control, and see free markets, and round, rosy cheeks on the children.

“As, of course, they can in the North,” he said finally. “Many among the people of the West are moving north, and if they cannot afford to pay the border tax, then most of them will become homeless, destitute, and a burden on those already struggling to survive.”

“I thank you, gentlemen,” Caelum said, just as Herme had opened his mouth to say something else. “You may retire.”

He waited until the doors had closed behind them, then he looked at Isfrael, FreeFall, Yllgaine and Sa’Domai. “My friends?”

FreeFall spoke first. “There can be no doubt that these taxes are onerous, StarSon. But…”

“But obviously
something
must be done to relieve Askam of the burden of debt he ran up in your service, Caelum,” Yllgaine said. “The tax on goods moved through the West seems the best way to do it.”

Zared bit his tongue to keep his anger from spilling out in unreasoned words. Yllgaine undoubtedly would not want
his
trading rights taxed!

Isfrael’s only comment was to repeat that the Avar had never been taxed, and would not consent to being taxed now. “And how would they pay it? In twigs? In acorns?”

Sa’Domai shrugged. “I can sympathise with Zared in that his people also suffer…but I note Askam’s point that this debt was largely run up in Tencendor’s service –”

Zared could no longer contain himself. “
And
some appalling investments! Gloam mines, for the gods’ sakes!”

Caelum hit the table with the flat of his hand. “Be still, Zared! Or would
you
like to entertain the Corolean Ambassador and his train the next time he decides on a three-year stay?”

Zared leaned back in his chair, his eyes carefully blank, listening to the conversation waft about him. Those of the Five not directly affected by the taxes first spoke of the weight of the taxes, then of Askam’s pressing (and understandable) need for money.

Caelum listened, nodded occasionally, and was careful not to give the impression that he was for one side or the other. Finally he held up his hand for silence.

“The issue of placing a border tax on those families wishing to move north must also be resolved.”

“The
issue
is one of the freedom of a man to move his family to where they can
eat,
Caelum,” Zared snapped, tired of the discussion, but not willing to let such an important point pass with no debate.

“The
issue
,” Askam shot back, “is whether or not you have the right to entice the most skilled of my workers and craftsmen north. I hear rumour that you pay well for such men to settle in Severin. Well enough, I think, to levy a tax on each of their departing heads for the troubles their loss causes me.”

“I pay them nothing! They journey north only because they know their families will have a future with –”

“
Enough!
” Now Caelum stood, furious. “I have heard sufficient to judge in this matter.”

He sat down again, but his eyes were still flinty. “Askam. You may have the right to levy taxes as you will in the West, but you do not have the right to deprive people of the means of survival. Zared, your people have suffered too, and that is wrong, but what is also wrong is the fact that for many years…too many years, you have grown fat on the riches of Ichtar which you have shipped, free of any levy, to market via the West.

“This is my judgment. The border tax must go. It
is
an injustice to so deprive people of their freedom of movement, their freedom of choice to move.”

“But –” Askam began.

“However, I hope that my decision on the other tax will go some way to alleviate your financial troubles, Prince of the West. The third tax on goods carried through the West must be lowered to one-tenth, still onerous, but enough for your people to bear.”

Askam’s face went dark with anger. How did that help him? A tenth would never bring in –

“But, Askam,” and Caelum’s eyes slid fractionally towards him, “I am fully aware that most of your debt was accomplished in my service, and for that I am more than grateful. While the people of the West must only pay one-tenth in tax, anyone else moving their goods through the West must pay half value in levy.”

Zared’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.
What was Caelum doing?
“No-one else moves goods through the West save the people of the North,” he finally managed. “That is a tax aimed directly at me and mine!”

Caelum turned to look him full in the eye. “And when have
you
run into debt to aid me, Zared?
When?
This is a fair way, as I see it, of making sure that all contribute towards –”

“
But none of them have to pay!
” Zared shouted, flinging an angry arm at the others. “When do they contribute towards –”

“
Are you asking what the Icarii contribute?
” Caelum seethed, “
when they spent a thousand years in exile due to
…due to…”

Due to your people.
Caelum may not have spoken the words, but all heard his thoughts in their minds.

“Do you ask what Nor contributes, when for a thousand years his family maintained the Island of Mist and Memory?”

And for a thousand years your people desecrated every sacred site in Tencendor they could lay a plough to?

“Do you ask what the Avar contribute, when they had to watch their homelands slaughtered, their children burned?”

And for a thousand years your people took the axe to every tree they could find, and murdered those who did not conform to the Way of the Plough?

Zared had gone white with shock. He stared at Caelum, absolutely incapable of speech.

How could Caelum send those thoughts careering through all of their heads, and still claim that he didn’t want the term “Acharite” used because it stank of the hatreds of the past?

Caelum held his stare, then waved one of the Lake Guard over. “Bring in the Princess Leagh,” he said.

“No,” whispered Zared. “Not after that, not –”

The doors opened, and Leagh walked in. She had dressed herself in a gown of silk that precisely matched the grey of Zared’s eyes, and her face was as ashen as his, for she had heard the shouting of the previous minutes.

Even so, she was composed, and she did not tremble or falter as she curtsied before Caelum. “StarSon.”