by Karen MacRae
Anna could see Caro was also wondering why the King’s Shaper wasn’t marching up to the University to save her friends. She avoided explaining Lady Braxton’s orders by using Seleste’s favourite trick of changing the subject. “What’s going to happen to them?” she asked.
“I’ve sent a couple of lads to find out. They’ll be back when they know.”
Caro’s sailors weren’t the only ones watching the three men being marched into the old gatehouse gaol. Hidden high up in the boughs of one of the huge spreading trees, Spider’s fists closed about his dagger hilts. Euan leaned against the library wall, a book in front of his face, but his eyes not seeing the words. Two indigo-clad students waited in the queue to exit the Hub, heading back to their rooms to fine-tune their graduation show speech. They couldn’t hide their smirks as the three men were led through the gate to the dungeons. They noticed the Chancellor’s aide rushing towards the gatehouse and decided their speech could wait.
The Quorum Major did his best to make the Chancellor’s aide see reason. “The conspiracy charge is unsubstantiated hearsay. For light’s sake, man, we’ll be arresting half the city if we allow spite to be valid evidence.”
“The conspiracy charge is irrelevant. Those men travelled with the King’s Shaper. They are collaborators. The law is perfectly clear.”
“And we’ve checked the eyewitness statements are true?”
“We don’t need to. The First Mate confirmed them himself by assuming responsibility for her being on the ship.”
“King Rybis will not like this.”
“Good. He’s not supposed to!”
The aide wouldn’t be drawn further, instead assuming a supercilious air and telling the Major to do as he was ordered. As the Major organised riders to take the news to the other thirteen gates, Lady Kuri was being summoned to the Chancellor’s office. She’d already heard of the arrests and knew what to expect. She entered the man’s domain with a heavy heart.
“Take a seat, please, Isabella. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you, Chancellor. I can’t imagine I’ll be here long.”
The Chancellor put down the bottle of fine Dornie whiskey and resumed his seat. “You’ll have heard we arrested three Shaper collaborators?”
“You’ve arrested two King’s men and the First Mate of the King’s new flagship.”
“Who they are has no bearing, Isabella. Shaping in all its forms is outlawed according to international law. No, spare me the pardon argument. Rybis has not had it agreed by his allies.”
“The signatories to that law are either engaged in a war with Emperor Nystrieth or are now ruled by the same monster. How, pray, would the King have the law changed when a Black Shaper would never allow the pardon of a White?”
The Chancellor shrugged. “That is none of my concern. The Quorum of Gifted is an independent organisation with no political allegiance.”
“And there we have it: independence. If you are so desperate for it, why not simply relocate? Buy an island somewhere outside The Kingdom and build a new University?”
“We already own an island, Isabella. All but the piece we stand on. Every inch of Ionantis is owned by the Quorum.”
Lady Kuri kept her face and aura still, but inwardly she was cursing. She knew about their land purchase scheme, but she’d been promised the last few landholders wouldn’t give way.
“You think you’re the only one good at blackmail, my dear?” the Chancellor sneered, irritated that the woman’s aura was so unreadable, even to him. He took a deep breath to calm himself and put a more appeasing look on his face. “Isabella, there are more than four million Quorum members around the world. We cannot leave them unprotected from that monster and all our link to Rybis achieves is condemnation.”
“You know my view, Chancellor, and we both know there is no reconciling the two positions.”
The Chancellor’s look harshened. “Then the terms are simple: the lives of the King’s men in return for your vote for independence from King Rybis and The Kingdom.”
“Which only goes to prove how little you understand Loyalty. The land may be yours, but the people are his. Rybis will not desert them and I will not vote against his wishes. My oath disallows it utterly.”
“Then his men die. You have until after the promotion ceremony to change your mind.”
Lady Kuri heard the message of the city Criers as she headed home. She couldn’t avoid it: it echoed down every street and alley. Three Shaper collaborators would be executed at midnight if the Shaper did not surrender. She hoped Finn knew what he was doing.
CHAPTER 42
C aro’s smile was less than convincing. “You’ve just done what?” Anna asked.
“I’ve just bought three horses for a single copper piece. A good deal, I think. They’re exceptionally fine horses. The King’s Guards have let me put them in with theirs for now, while I decide if I’m going to keep them.”
Anna knew they’d left Lachlan’s horse on Shae which meant there were only three left in the Lealta: Hope, Blue and Rojoch. “They’re emptying the hold? Light, they’re expecting to be torched. They’re expecting me to let them down.” She paced, her mind in a frenzy. Euan’s concern for her immediately came through the blue peristone link. She pulsed back reassurance that she was safe then cut off the links to all eight stones. “What’ll happen to the crew?” she asked in a small voice.
“The King’s Guard argued horses weren’t crew so the Quorum Guard let them be disembarked. The First Mate had suggested to his Number Two that I might like to buy them.” The Captain wondered how this girl ever kept a secret. She didn’t need to be able to Read to see her anguish. “Why don’t you tell me all about it? I’m a good listener.”
“Do you swear on your King’s Oath to tell no one?”
“I swear, child. I may be a pirate, but I would never break an oath.”
Anna was shocked. “You’re a pirate?”
Caro laughed at the girl’s expression. “Come on, tell Captain Caro everything.”
Anna had seen the woman’s golden badge pulse with her oath. She might be a pirate, but her rich red aura glowed with unswerving truth; Caro would never break an oath.
She sat down and clutched a cushion to her stomach, cuddling it fiercely as she got her thoughts in order. It came out in a rush anyway… How she might have a powerful gift, but she was useless at fighting and any decent bowman could take her out easily; how the King’s spy mistress had told her to let others die if it meant she lived; how Finn, the King’s top agent, had ordered her to stay on the ship, no matter what; how they were worried about not having her to help them take down Nystrieth and how her Forever White oath was conflicted. Her voice broke on the last point. She swallowed back tears then looked up at the pirate. “I know I’m supposed to wait and do whatever has the greatest effect, but my oath wants me to save everyone.”
Caro sat down beside her, her aura showing genuine sympathy for the child who found herself in the middle of conflict through no fault of her own. “I have a question for you,” she said, her eyes looking straight into the damp, blue eyes of the Shaper. “When will be the right time to act? When the Chancellor threatens to execute your friends? When the Chancellor orders the crew of the Lealta burned to death? When one of Nystrieth’s Generals threatens to repeat the horror of Seask? When Nystrieth finds your hiding place and there’s nothing left to fight for?” The pirate watched the girl’s face as she lived each scenario in her mind. “It seems to me that the Black has already won if the White fails to engage and, in doing so, allows hope to die.”
Anna thought hard on Caro’s wisdom. She’d been named the King’s Shaper for a reason. The King and his Councillors had deliberately made Bojek and Mistress Manson’s trial public and made sure there was plenty of Lord Witheridge’s glass so the King’s Shaper’s fame would spread, so hope would spread. Yet she was supposed to hide? Would they ask her out of hiding purely for show - to build an illusion of a White Shaper who might
defeat Nystrieth? Did they let her tag along with the real spies only so she could Heal them? She knew she was being unfair, but how did hiding honour her oaths to her King and to herself?
While Anna tormented herself, Elona was laughing at the news that the ginger and the Seaskian had been arrested and were to be executed. True, it was for consorting with a Shaper, but it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t started it. Her smile widened at the nonsense about the Shaper. She knew for a fact Mystrim’s last fireball had hit the girl square in the chest and she’d been injured and out cold at the time. She’d seen the Shaper’s white aura burn brightly when the other fireballs had landed, she assumed in some desperate attempt at defence, but there had been no flare of white when that last shot had struck and there were no Healers on Shae. No, the White was undoubtedly dead and good riddance to her. And now Braxton’s team was down two men, leaderless and focused on the wrong part of the Hub. It was all going perfectly.
While Spider hid up a tree and Beitris and Seleste guarded Professor Kirklund, Jimmy had been shopping, Euan was on guard by the only door into the restricted section and Malik had stolen a blue gown carelessly left lying over a chair in the library.
Looking like one of many alumni nostalgically revisiting old haunts, the Mastran had inspected every inch of the Physical Arts’ building where the promotion ceremony and execution were scheduled to take place. He thought perhaps Finn and he had been there only two or three times when they’d been students here together. It looked just how he remembered, though: the immense rectangular wooden floor edged with equipment rooms; the steeply stacked seats above; the open staircases leading there from every corner; the plush balconies that projected from the two shorter walls so the important could get the best view; the neck-breakingly high ceiling; the ceremonial torches that lined the top of the walls. These would be blazing tonight, their smoke neatly funnelled outside by the gently steepled roof’s big chimneys. It would seem like the middle of a sunny day, apart from in the corners, under the stairs. These spaces had never been well lit; there would be cover there, for them and for their enemies.
Malik mentally noted the four ways in and out, thinking how he would go about kidnapping Prof K if he were Elona. The hardest part would be getting through security. Once inside, it would be relatively easy to get upstairs and into the balconies. It’d need a lot a manpower to get Prof K out though; Elona wouldn’t be on her own, and she had that blasted Concealer.
Finn trusted his team to be doing their jobs and got on with making friends with the Sergeant in charge of the dank dungeon under the Hub’s gatehouse.
Sy watched with a smile as the previously surly man apologised profusely for the conditions and offered blankets, food and even a tot of rum to his new best mate Kai, according to his identity card.
Finn made a show of rubbing his wrists and ankles. “I do so hate things being too tight. You would think half a dozen blades pointed at me would be enough without all that metal too.”
“The leather straps are kinder on the skin. I’ll make sure you get them when you leave, Kai.”
“That’s kind of you, Sergeant. You’re a good man,” said the prisoner, deliberately pushing his gift to the limit. The man would probably hand him the keys then slit his own throat if he asked him. “It would be so much better if they weren’t too tight, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely, Kai. I’ll put them you on myself. They won’t rub.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would do the same for my friends here.”
“The least I can do, Kai. Can’t believe all this rubbish the Chancellor’s said about you and a Shaper. As if you’d associate with someone so evil.”
“I swear to you, my friend, I have never associated with an evil Shaper. Not for one second.”
Inside the library, Professor Kirklund was making final adjustments to the promotion ceremony with the help of her new personal assistants. There were nine candidates for promotion that evening. They were mostly from Science and Order, but a late addition was Physical Arts which would help lighten proceedings. She’d had word from the Chancellor that everyone was to stay in their seats after the ceremony when there was to be yet another vote on independence. The professor sighed. She did so hate politics.
She was about to go and check on the second round of new applicant tests when there was a knock on the door. The lithe brunette answered it, her hand on a blade hidden beneath her lilac gown. The professor felt her heart rate almost double then saw it was just a junior librarian bringing an urgent note. She felt quite sick when she opened the seal and found a message from Professor Sifry. He would be delighted to attend the library around seventeen o’clock this evening.
Sure enough, a carriage entered the Hub a little before seventeen bringing a dozing, crimwort-doped Professor Sifry and a nervous Professor Ebdry. A sedan chair carried the sleepy and slightly pongy Hero of Munagra up the stairs to the library entrance and Professor Kirklund’s deputy escorted it and the great man’s nominated assistant down to the restricted section.
Ebdry dawdled, taking an age to get through every door, inspecting security and looking around him with great satisfaction at finally being allowed into the High Quorum area. The room they were taken to was infinitely better appointed than the basic staff cubicles upstairs; there were even snacks, a fabulous view of the fountain and a personal librarian on hand to retrieve anything. And there, waiting on the table, were ‘Divining Purity' and ‘Unforeseen Consequences of Balance’. He could hardly contain himself but helped get the cripple settled in a chair like the caring friend he was supposed to be. When the librarian left, promising to be close by in case Professor Sifry wished anything else, he dived into the books.
In the Physical Arts’ training hall, the promotion ceremony was about to begin. A hubbub of chatter came from an all white-gowned audience sitting in the standard seats. They reminisced fondly about their own promotions, discussed highlights they’d witnessed over the years and speculated on what might happen this evening, hoping for a decent show. Conversation faltered when, at precisely ten minutes to seventeen o’clock, a door opened at the rear of the fancy balcony seats at the far end of the hall and those honoured with personal invitations from the Inner Quorum trooped in.
A woman in a yellow gown was first to be seated, right in the middle of the front row. The yellow was soon swamped by indigo, both the Chancellor and Lady Kuri having sent their best legal minds in case someone brought up a new argument before the Independence vote. A latecomer in orange pushed his way along the front row and made everyone shift up one seat so he could sit next to the woman in yellow. He gave her a quick hug and she looked at him with relief and gratitude. He chatted easily to her, taking her mind off the stares and whispers spreading through the gossiping audience.
“Who’s the wee woman in the yellow gown?”
“Isn’t that the Chancellor’s wife?”
“Anyone know who the Humanity woman is?”
“Surely that’s not the Chancellor’s wife? She doesn’t normally come to these things.”
“Who’s the old man from Languages?”
“Isn’t that Ade Whitehall, the linguist?”
“Goodness, it’s Professor Whitehall. I didn’t know he was friends with the Chancellor’s wife.”
“So what’s her gift, the Chancellor’s wife?”
“Empathy. It’s why she doesn’t normally come to these things. Too many people and emotions for her to handle.”
The main subject of the whispered conversations was doing her best to shut out everything but dear Ade’s witty monologue. He knew just how hard these things were for her and was doing his best to keep her mind off it. Darling Felix had told her she didn’t have to come, but she knew how important it was to him. Ade’s voice paused and Emily realised that the Inner Quorum were filing into the balcony at the other end of the hall, Professor Kirklund’s two assistants providing a splash of lilac at the back of the pool of white.
Felix gav
e her a small nod as he took his seat in the centre of the front row, right opposite her. She smiled back, trying to reassure him she was fine. She could feel his love and concern for her from here.
The Chancellor nodded at the Master of Ceremonies and a huge gong rang out. The audience looked down in interest as the big double doors near the IQ balcony were opened and nine candidates and their assistants began to file in. The mood took a tangible downturn as every gown proved to be red or indigo.
“Would have been better going to the rehearsal. I hear the light-benders are particularly good this year.”
“Is that man carrying a load of weapons?”
“They’ll be practice swords, but that’s much more promising… Look, a blue gown.”
“There’s always the vote and the execution. That’s history we’ll be witnessing.”
“Not me. I’m not hanging around to watch men be killed for political gain.”
The gong sounded once more and silence fell. The Chancellor stood to say a few words then the Master of Ceremonies took over.
The first two candidates split the Inner Quorum. Neither were successful, being deemed excellent in one area, but not quite excellent enough. The audience nodded sagely, agreeing with the decisions. The third candidate got a strong recommendation from the Gift Diviners, but it seemed he’d yet to awaken his potential as his work in his chosen fields of engineering and law had yet to deliver anything of note. He was urged to try again if his gift developed further. The fourth candidate was an easy yes as was the fifth. The Gift Diviner failed the next three before the Inner Quorum even heard about their gifts. It was really quite astonishing they’d been recommended at all; their sponsors would have some explaining to do. The last was the young woman in blue. The audience hoped she’d be a bit more entertaining. It had been a poor night out so far.
