Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.)

by Maggie Furey

  ‘Bring the Hemifae a chair,’ Sharalind ordered Omaira. When he was seated, she leant forward, her eyes fastened hungrily on his face. ‘Tell me everything, Kelon, every single detail – but first, tell me about my son.’

  ‘Now tell me about your life,’ Incondor urged Chiannala. ‘I’ve told you about mine.’

  In the time she had been looking after Incondor, the long hours spent in one another’s company had brought them very close, and it seemed natural to share one another’s secrets. In was as if their encounter right at the very gates of death had formed a special bond of trust between them.

  Incondor had told her of his hatred for Yinze and his fear that the Wizard had revealed to the Queen his plans to smuggle forbidden intoxicating spirits into Aerillia. He had gone on to relate how he had taken the harp and almost destroyed himself. Now they were coconspirators, Chiannala felt a bond with this alien, foreign Mage that she had never known with anyone else in her life. ‘You won’t find mine so interesting,’ she replied. ‘Oh how I wish I could fly like you.’

  ‘Once I’m better you will,’ Incondor promised. ‘I’ll have you taken up with me in a net. I still have my bearers here, though they chose to stay outside the city. They’re from my own household staff and they are very loyal – after what Yinze did to me, they have no greater liking for Wizards than I do.’ Incondor gave her a charming smile. ‘Present company excepted, of course.’

  They were talking privately in mindspeech, for other Healers were constantly in the room, one at all times suppressing the Skyman’s pain while the others worked to piece together and repair the remnants of his wings. Though his general health was improving rapidly due to the advanced Wizardly Healing skills, the structural damage to his wings was taking much longer to mend. The twisted, shattered travesties of the beautiful feathered pinions still needed to be held together by a framework of bracing struts and splints, and even Tinagen was beginning to look concerned.

  Fear was making Incondor impatient and ill-tempered, and his explosions of anger were getting worse and more frequent every day. The Healers had discovered that the only one who seemed able to calm and distract him was Chiannala, so she was encouraged to spend as much time with him as possible – and it seemed that this was the opportunity that she had so wanted, to get close to him. During their merging when she had fought to hold him to life, Incondor had discovered that she was not who she claimed to be, but he had not revealed her secret. The longer they had spent together the closer they’d grown, and now she felt that she could trust him.

  In their bonding, and in subsequent conversations, she had already detected a broad streak of ruthlessness in his make-up, and she had a feeling that he would understand her motivation in doing the terrible thing she had done. She had already made some tentative allusions to half-breeds, not knowing how the Winged Folk reacted to such aberrations, but had discovered that, no matter what the official position might be, Incondor himself had no objections – in fact, she had a sneaking suspicion that more than once, he’d availed himself of the humans his people kept to cultivate the lower terraces of their mountains – not something she wanted to dwell on, but at least it helped her own position now.

  Oh, it would be such a relief to unburden herself! The strain of keeping up another person’s identity was immense, and she hoped that it would be eased if she had someone to confide in. So, making certain that their mindspeech was shielded from the other Healers, she took the plunge and told him who she really was, and how she had come to be here.

  She had to hand it to him – as her tale of the audacious substitution of herself for Brynne unfolded, not once did his face betray any of his surprise, admiration or even amusement. But his replies said otherwise. ‘Incredible! Ingenious! And what cool courage it took, to see your opportunity and seize it as you did. Never have I seen such ingenuity and nerve in the females of my own kind!’

  Now Chiannala had to struggle to keep her emotions from showing on her face. ‘Nevertheless, you can’t imagine what a relief it is to be able to confide in someone at last. It’s been very lonely, Incondor, living another person’s life, and I’m in constant fear of being caught out.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Yet if I had to do it all again, I would. Living as a true Wizard, being able to develop my powers as they do – anything is worth that.’

  ‘And now you have a friend.’ Incondor took her hand and grasped it tightly. ‘I owe you my life, Chiannala, and if things go wrong for you here, I promise you will always have a place in Aerillia with me.’

  Was he promising her this from love, or just gratitude? Just at that moment, it was enough to Chiannala to know that he wanted her with him, and cared for her enough to help her, though she wondered what would happen when he was finally healed, and ready to return home. All her life she had wanted to be here in Tyrineld – so much that she had killed to achieve her aims. No matter what she felt for Incondor, was she really prepared to uproot herself and lose everything she’d won here?

  Well, he wouldn’t be going anywhere yet. At present, she had time enough to wait and see how things developed. If war with the Phaerie was really brewing, who knew what the future might bring? It was good to know she had an escape route if she needed one.

  25

  ~

  RESTORATION

  Tiolani was glad, not to mention profoundly relieved, to be restored to her proper position of honour and respect within the Phaerie court. She was back in her comfortable old rooms, and though Cordain had stationed a guard at the door, it was such an improvement on the cold, bare chamber where he’d kept her imprisoned that she didn’t care. It was such a relief to be able to bathe again, and eat whenever she wanted. And what luxury it was, to be clad in a shimmering gown of silver, black and gold brocade, with the glitter of diamonds at her neck and ears. Her life had improved immensely – but it had not brought her peace of mind.

  Now that Ferimon’s treacherous Healers had been rooted out and removed, the damage they had done was being corrected and the Forest Lord’s condition was slowly beginning to improve at last. Tiolani was glad of it – of course she was – but what would her father say when he recovered and saw what a mess she’d made of things? She had nightmares about it every time she closed her eyes.

  Though she had convinced herself that she owed nothing to her former companions; especially Aelwen, her mother’s own sister, who had abandoned her so callously to whatever fate might bring, she still suffered inconvenient pangs of guilt at betraying them to Cordain. But what choice did she have? They had left her alone to survive as best she could, so they could hardly complain about the methods she used. Or so she kept telling herself.

  The fate of Varna was also gnawing at her. Her former lady in waiting, Ferimon’s sister and her best friend all throughout her life – or so Tiolani had thought, until she’d discovered that Varna had been part of the plot to seduce and betray her. The girl had been imprisoned, waiting for her former friend to decide her fate, but before she did so, Tiolani wanted to confront her, to face her and ask why. How could she have done this terrible thing? She wanted to, needed to ask those questions, but somehow she kept putting it off. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was afraid of the answers.

  The plan to capture her former allies wasn’t going well, either. Nychan and his warriors had not come back; neither with their prisoners nor, if the traitors had not yet arrived at the cave, to have the flying magic renewed before going back to resume their vigil. The spell must have worn off by now, so they were stranded between Eliorand and the borders of the realm. She had been scrying for hours to try and find them, in the hope that the spell could be renewed over such a long distance, but so far she had found no sign of them.

  Tiolani’s eyes were stinging from gazing for so long, with such intent concentration, on the silvered scrying glass that was propped on the windowsill. No matter how hard she looked, or how far she sent her mind winging across the forest south of Eliorand, the image in the mirror was clou
ded and unfocused, and she could see no sign of what had happened, either to her former allies or the warriors she had sent to capture them.

  ‘Well?’ Cordain’s brusque, impatient demand slashed like a knife across her focus, and the vague amorphous forms – the only images she had managed to grasp – shattered into pieces.

  Ablaze with anger, she whirled round from the high tower window with a snarl. ‘Curse you, Cordain! How in perdition do you expect me to accomplish anything when you keep on interrupting? I can’t renew the flying magic without some kind of image to work on – not at this distance.’

  ‘Hellorin could always renew the flying spell no matter what the distance.’ There was a nasty, accusing edge to Cordain’s voice.

  He had a nerve! There he sat, making himself at home in the most comfortable chair by the fireside, while she was wearing herself into exhaustion, trying to find his stupid warriors. Tiolani’s hand itched to strike him. ‘And Hellorin might have passed the knowledge on to my brother Arvain,’ she snapped, ‘but considering he never bothered to teach me the spell at all, because I was only a girl, and not his precious heir, you can count yourself bloody fortunate that I’ve accomplished what I have.’

  She picked up her gold-chased goblet of spiced wine from the windowsill and took a long drink to ease her parched throat. How many hours had she been here now, trying fruitlessly, both with her mind and her scrying mirror, to make contact with the missing warriors. Wearing herself out trying to put right this stupid old idiot’s mistakes, and what thanks did he give her?

  She turned back to Cordain with a fulminating glare. ‘If this mess is anybody’s fault it’s yours, and you only have yourself to blame. I told you to let me go with them. You should have listened, but no – you knew best. You didn’t trust me. Well, see where it got you. It’s clear now that your precious Nychan has mucked up his mission, or why has he not returned, or at least sent us tidings?’

  ‘Perhaps you should be answering that,’ Cordain retorted, his eyes as hard as flint. Too angry to sit any longer he rose from his chair and paced away from her, only to turn back and point an accusatory finger. ‘How do I know they didn’t walk into a trap? How do I know that you didn’t betray them? You and those fine friends you arrived with, Aelwen and Taine.’

  ‘You bastard!’ Tiolani shrieked, and flung the goblet at him, forcing him to dodge aside with an oath. It missed him by a hair’s breadth and flew past his head, splattering him with sticky, blood-red wine as it hit the wall behind him. Cordain took an involuntary step towards the door. He’d forgotten that her rages could be every bit as incandescent as her father’s.

  ‘Are you going senile?’ she shouted. ‘Have you forgotten who tried to warn you that this was a stupid idea? Didn’t I tell you the Wizard was dangerous? Didn’t I warn you that she’d already slain Hellorin’s spymaster Dhagon, the most lethal killer in Eliorand? Didn’t I tell you, over and over, that you needed to send me with Nychan, to act as bait and lure Iriana into a trap? But no, you wouldn’t listen. You didn’t trust me. And just look where it got you! How dare you try to shift the blame for this mess onto me. When my father wakes up and finds out how you’ve treated me—’

  Her words jolted Cordain to the core. She could have said nothing more likely to influence him. He let her continue to rant while he made a swift reassessment of his position. The Lord of the Phaerie definitely seemed to be improving now, thanks to Tiolani’s revelations that had resulted in the removal of the spurious Healers brought in by Ferimon. What was he likely to say about his Chief Counsellor’s actions while he’d been indisposed? Tiolani had been the worst sort of fool, it was true, but she had almost paid for her folly with her life. And on her miraculous return, what had Cordain done? Actually imprisoned the Forest Lord’s only surviving heir.

  As for her deeds, Hellorin might regret the deaths of the key Hemifae traders and artificers that Tiolani had dispatched, but he would not view their murders in such a grave light as Cordain did. He had far too much blood on his own hands for that, and would view their loss as more of an inconvenience than an atrocity. Indeed, he might even be secretly delighted that his daughter had inherited his merciless nature. Though Tiolani had made mistakes, she had finally unmasked the traitor who had almost slain the Phaerie Lord and killed his son. And Hellorin was more likely to be pleased, rather than concerned, by the way she had pretended to make an alliance with her enemies then betrayed them at the first opportunity.

  Cordain saw things differently, but he would no longer be in charge once Hellorin was restored. The tables would be turned then, and Tiolani would have power over him. Maybe it was time he started trusting her – or pretending to, at any rate. In fact, there was a certain amount of reason in what she was saying. It looked as though Nychan’s ambush had failed. Unease crept up Cordain’s spine like the touch of cold fingers. How powerful was this Wizard, if she could manage to overcome so many armed warriors? Just what was he up against here? For the thousandth time he wished that the Forest Lord was back to shoulder all the ruler’s burdens, but what was the point of that? In the real world it was up to Cordain, but at least he could shift part of the responsibility onto Tiolani.

  Furthermore, until Hellorin recovered, only she could cast the flying spell. Without her the Phaerie were grounded and helpless: not a good situation to be in with a powerful Wizard on the loose. It was imperative he send out another squad without delay to find out what had happened to Nychan and his men. Cordain needed to make his peace with Tiolani immediately. He was forced to trust her, to reveal his plans – and to hope that he’d made the right decision.

  ‘Well?’ Tiolani demanded, jerking his attention back to her.

  Hastily Cordain gathered his wandering thoughts. ‘My Lady Tiolani, you are absolutely right.’ (There, that should cover whatever she’d been saying.) ‘I owe you an apology,’ he went on. ‘You must understand that I was forced to be cautious at first, simply because you’d arrived in the company of thieves and traitors. I was simply trying to safeguard your father’s realm for when he returned, but I am not accustomed to ruling, as Hellorin is. If I have made mistakes I apologise most profoundly.’

  Tiolani regarded him with narrow-eyed suspicion. ‘And what has brought about this sudden change of heart?’

  Cordain forced a smile. ‘You argue most eloquently, my dear. It’s a wise man who is not afraid to admit that he was wrong. I needed to be sure that I could trust you, but you’ve convinced me now, and with that Wizard at large, we need to work together to safeguard the Phaerie realm.’ He held out a hand to her. ‘Come, child – please forgive me. We are more powerful together than we could be singly, and we have a great deal to do in very little time.’

  Concealing her relief, Tiolani took his hand. In this game of shifting power between them, he must never know how much she needed him. She had betrayed both sides now. Until her father could recover and protect her, she was treading a very dangerous path.

  She smiled fixedly again. ‘Let us be friends once more, Cordain, and work together to protect our people. How may I assist you? I presume, to begin with, you will want to send out more warriors, to find out what happened to Nychan and his men.’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ said Cordain. ‘I would also like you to come down to the stables with me, my lady. I have a surprise for you.’

  Tiolani didn’t like surprises. It was a long time since she’d had a pleasant one. Suspicious and uneasy, she followed Cordain through the palace, doing her best to ignore the curious looks she was receiving from all sides. She was cheered, however, when she emerged through the massive outer doors to find bright sunlight and a cool, lively breeze. Despite all her troubles, she felt her spirits lift a little. After her imprisonment in the palace, it was wonderful to be able to move about in the fresh air again. And there, waiting for her at the bottom of the steps was her dear Asharal, the horse that had been a gift from her brother.

  ‘Asharal!’ she exclaimed delightedly. ‘Oh, how long it’s bee
n since I saw him last.’

  Cordain smiled. ‘Just to prove that I really do trust you, my lady, I thought you might like to fly across to the stables with me.’

  ‘I would love to. I’ve missed my Asharal.’ Her face grew clouded. ‘If only I’d been riding him, instead of Corisand, on the night Aelwen and Kelon absconded, things might have turned out very differently.’

  ‘Had that been so, you might never have discovered Ferimon’s duplicity,’ Cordain said. By this time she had told him a carefully edited version of what had transpired that night. ‘Would you really have wanted that?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ She sighed. ‘Though I do feel like such a fool for letting him deceive me so easily.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, what’s done is done. There’s no changing it now. Come on, Cordain. Let us deal with the problems of today.’

  Tiolani was finding it easier to accomplish the flying spell, now that she’d had a little practice. In no time at all she and Cordain were airborne, rising above the palace and the city below, herself on Asharal and the counsellor riding his own Gial, whose shining coat was so dark that it verged on black. Knowing what she knew now, Hellorin’s daughter found herself wondering what the horses, especially her own mount, would look like in their human form. The memory of the way she’d abused Asharal, riding him into lameness and total exhaustion with the Wild Hunt, in her frenzied pursuit of the feral mortals who’d ambushed Hellorin and killed her brother, was not a happy one, and she was all too glad to shrug it off.

  It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.

  She seemed to be using that phrase all the time lately. It was the only way she could keep going – to put the past, with all its mistakes, behind her and look to the future.

  In the present, things were looking up. To be riding on her precious Asharal in the sun and the wind was a joy. To be able to look down again at her city, its shining rooftops, its graceful trees, its markets and parks with all the Phaerie going about their daily business, was a miracle. To be safely back in Eliorand, restored to her former position – even if it was in an uneasy alliance with Cordain – was more than she could ever have hoped for. Ferimon was dead and gone, and Aelwen, with her inconvenient appeals to Tiolani’s conscience, was out of the way, hopefully for good.