by Emma Miles
‘It’s bigger than it looks!’ Cassien exclaimed.
The room went back a long way with a fireplace halfway down one wall. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just a long table and six uncomfortable chairs. There was a door at the far end and Cassien un-bolted it and looked out into a small, paved yard.
‘There’s an outhouse!’ he called in to Osun.
‘Come back in and lock the door.’ Osun headed for the stairs, his hand on his sword hilt.
There were two bedrooms on the next floor and an attic room with a straw mattress. Osun found a chest and opening it, found some reasonably clean blankets, candles, and flints.
It would do.
‘Cassien, can you find your own way back to the Inn?’
‘What? Why? Are you staying here?’
Osun raised his hand and Cassien actually flinched.
‘Master,’ the boy added quickly.
‘No, I have work to do. There are a couple of ale and geranna houses I need to visit. I need to know what’s been happening in Navere.’
‘Then I should come, master, you pay me to protect you.’
Osun snorted. ‘I don’t pay you and people don’t go drinking with their servant!’
Cassien reached up to unclasp his servant’s collar.
‘What in the Gods’ name are you doing?’ Osun stared at him incredulously.
Cassien stopped, shrugging. ‘My job, I thought.’
‘Gods, why did I ever buy you! Get yourself back to the Inn, boy, and try not to get into any trouble!’
Cassien let his arms drop to his side.
‘Go on!’ Osun aimed a kick at him, but the young man dodged it and went out the door with a last hurt look in Osun’s direction.
Osun waited a moment before leaving himself, making sure he couldn’t see Cassien lurking anywhere before locking the door and placing the key in the purse on his belt. He smiled to himself when the same woman as before glanced up at him ever so briefly.
He headed away from the harbour and toward the richer part of the city, to the main street that eventually followed the high cliff to the caves in which the gods dwelt in their temples. He slowed his steps as he came to the palace. A high wall hid most of the grounds, but the upper stories loomed above them, dark shadows against a blackened sky. Light shone in only four windows and from what he remembered they were the rooms normally occupied by the Coven Lord. Four guards stood at the iron gate, all of them upright and alert, the whites of their eyes showing in the light of the flickering oil lamps. Osun passed them by and turned off the main street, heading toward the noise and brightness of a geranna house.
The door was propped open and smoke from pipes swirled out along with the sickly smells of geranna and sweat. He pushed his way to the bar and took a coin from his purse.
‘Spiced or plain?’ The barman barely glanced at him.
‘Spiced.’ Osun winced at the thought of it, he hated the sickly fruit liquor in any form, but it was a necessary evil. He exchanged his coin for a dirty looking horn and moved to the end of the bar. Leaning against the wall, he let his eyes glaze over and concentrated on listening, letting the conversations wash over him, waiting to pick up on any keywords. It was nearly two hours before he heard mention of the palace. He waited until after the conversation had ended and drained his horn. He tried not to let his excitement show as he made his way back out.
The temperature had dropped and he gave an involuntary shiver. As tempting as it was to head straight back to the inn and contact Jorrun, he needed more to back up what he’d heard. He made his way back toward the main street but turned off down a narrow alley. The slight scuff of a shoe was the only warning he got. Osun drew his sword, turning on his toes as he did so. Two men with scarves over the lower parts of their faces blocked the alley, one with a dagger raised, the other with a club resting nonchalantly against his shoulder. The man with the dagger shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at his companion and then looking Osun up and down.
‘Your purse!’
Osun frowned at him, lowering his sword a little and improving his stance. ‘You confront a man carrying a sword, with only a dagger and a piece of wood, and expect him to just hand over his hard-earned money?’
The left side of ‘dagger’s’ face twitched and he shifted his feet again. ‘There’s two of us!’
‘Thanks, I can count.’
Dagger man’s face turned red. Osun moved before he did, hacking off the man’s hand and then stabbing him through the stomach. The man with the club had barely moved, but as his companion crumpled, he backed away and raised a hand.
‘Shall we both go on our way, brother?’
Osun ground his teeth at the thief addressing him as ‘brother,’ but he stepped back and lowered his sword again.
‘Time was when no one would dare attack anyone in Navere,’ he said.
The thief shrugged. ‘Times change. Guard’s don’t care, half the time they don’t even know who they’re serving, or, more importantly, who’s paying.’
‘I thought Navere had a new lord?’
The thief snorted. ‘Today it’s Cepack, who knows who it will be tomorrow? Place has gone to hell since Dunham was murdered and someone burned the temples of Arkoom. A man has to look to himself these days.’
‘I’d have thought there’d be plenty of work going?’ Osun tensed, waiting for the man to spit. He didn’t.
‘I’m no servant!’
‘Never said you were. There’s always need of mercenaries though.’
The man swayed a little. ‘Dangerous work, these days, and I’m not stupid. You sign up with a lord and next day someone’s trying to overthrow him. Sign up with a merchant and you’re hit several times on the road. Dunham scared the shit out of me with all those dead people and blood magic, don’t get me wrong, but at least there was stability.’
‘Things will settle again.’
‘Aye, when all the sorcerers have killed each other! And who will run things then?’
Osun smiled. ‘Maybe we will, brother.’ He sheathed his sword and turning his back, continued along the alley, listening hard to be sure the man didn’t follow. He couldn’t help a quick look over his shoulder as he got back to the main street. The alley was empty.
He quickened his pace and headed straight toward the palace, running his fingers through his hair to muss it and breathing harder though his mouth to roughen his throat and redden his face. The guards saw him coming and stood up straighter, all but one of them putting a hand to their swords.
‘I’ve just been attacked by thieves!’ Osun called out to them. ‘Just a few yards from the palace!’
‘And?’ one of the men demanded.
‘And?’ Osun’s mouth fell open and he stared at them. ‘Well, aren’t you going to do something?’
‘You’re alive, aren’t you?’ one of them muttered.
The first man who’d spoken scowled at his colleague. ‘Not our job, I’m afraid, master. We have orders to guard the palace so that’s what we do. Try the city guard house, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.’
‘What in the Gods’ names has become of this city?’
‘That’s just the thing.’ The guard made a swift sign against evil. ‘Someone burned down the houses of the Gods and the gods didn’t reply. No Dunham, no gods, no fear, and no law.’
Osun let the air out of his lungs and his muscles sagged. He was responsible for this, him and his brother and the fire-spirits who’d risen against the blood magic of Chem. They’d never really thought through the consequences, just assumed they would make things better.
‘Thanks,’ he muttered.
***
He’d intended to try another geranna house, but he felt too unsettled and headed straight back to the marketplace and the security of the Narwhale Inn. As soon as he turned into the market square, he spotted Cassien walking up and down outside the inn. The boy stopped on seeing him, took a couple of steps toward the door, then thou
ght better of it and waited, head down but watching Osun anxiously.
‘Something happen?’ Osun demanded.
‘Oh! No.’ Cassien shook his head. ‘I … I just wanted to be sure you got back to the inn.’
Osun sighed. He unbuckled his sword and handed it to Cassien. ‘Clean this up then get to sleep. I have a lot to do in the city tomorrow and will be up early.’
Cassien drew the sword a little and his eyes widened at the blood.
‘Now!’
Cassien jumped, then with a slight bow, hurried off to his room.
Osun made his way more slowly to his own room and, after locking the door behind him, he took his scrying bowl out of his bag and poured in some water and three drops of blood. It was less than five minutes until his brother’s face appeared in the water. Relief surged through Osun.
‘Brother, where are you?’ he asked.
‘The Borrows,’ Jorrun replied. ‘How are things with you?’
Osun pursed his lips and drew in a deep breath. ‘Our plans are going relatively well. Navere is in disarray, the city itself seems to be lost to the coven, Cepack is concentrating on protecting his own hide. If we strike quickly, I think we can take the palace with a minimum of resistance.’
‘We’ll talk about that when I arrive. I should be there tomorrow night.’
‘Come straight to the harbour, to the fisherman’s wharf. I’ll have my servant meet you and take you straight to a safe house.’
‘Into the harbour? Are you sure, Osun?’
‘Very.’
‘All right. I’ll see you soon.’
Chapter Ten
Kesta; Covenet of Chem
Kesta’s heartbeat was loud in her ears as the lights of the harbour drew closer, reflected in the dark waters. She leaned out over the railing, her knowing cast out wide, watching the narrow walkways for any signs of people.
Jorrun called out from the stern where he controlled the rudder. ‘Kesta, you’d best not use your magic just in case anyone senses it.’
Reluctantly she called her knowing back. Her shoulders and neck ached with tension and her stomach had tightened into a hard knot. Why oh, why had she said yes to coming back to Chem? She looked back past the cabin to Jorrun’s barely perceptible shape. He was why. And Milaiya.
The ship turned abruptly, heading across the harbour towards its eastern end.
‘We’ll be there in a moment, you’d best get your disguise on.’
Kesta snorted. ‘Disguise,’ she muttered under her breath. She ducked into the cabin and pulled the Chemman dress on over her tunic and trousers, tucking her dagger into her boot. ‘Nearly there, Azra,’ she reassured the fire-spirit before pulling the hood down over her head. When she went back out on the deck, it was so dark she could barely see anything through the gauze that covered her eyes. Light flared out and she realised someone had uncovered a lantern on the docks. Jorrun drifted them in toward it and she hurried to take down and secure the sail.
‘Can I ask your name, master?’
Kesta looked up to see the person holding the lamp was maybe five years younger than her with a muscular build, dark brown hair, and wide grey eyes.
‘Raven,’ Jorrun replied, jumping out of the ship to tie up. ‘Jorrun Raven.’
The boy’s eyes narrowed a little and his shoulders sagged. ‘This way, master.’
Kesta ducked back inside the cabin to get Azrael’s lamp and Jorrun held out his hand to help her onto the wooden gangway. The boy watched her intently as though he expected her to do something crazy any moment. He started when he realised they were waiting and turned to lead them along a path that followed the waterside. It stank of decomposing sea creatures.
The boy stopped outside a house with a black door, knocked twice, then opened it and stepped straight in. Kesta desperately wanted to call up her knowing, but Jorrun’s previous warning stopped her. He touched her arm, glancing at her, and stepped into the building to look around. He nodded for her to follow. A single candle stood upon a mantlepiece and the boy strode forward to place his lantern on a table in the centre of the long, narrow room. She realised someone was seated there and her hands twitched, wanting to reach for flame.
‘Osssun!’ Azrael came hurling out of her lantern, singeing the glass as he morphed through it. The boy threw himself back, falling over a chair and almost landing in the fireplace.
‘Azra!’ Jorrun chastised the Drake.
Osun leapt up and hurried to the boy, reaching out a hand to help him up. ‘It’s all right, Cassien, Azrael is a friend. He’s a fire-spirit.’
Kesta put her lantern down and pulled her hood up off her head. Cassien’s eyes caught hers as he stood and he froze, his mouth open.
Osun sighed. ‘Cassien, this is Kesta. She is a Fire-Walker from the Fulmers and my brother’s wife. Kesta, this is my … this is Cassien. The two of you should get on amazingly well.’
Kesta reached out a hand and the boy visibly flinched, looking at Osun with his eyes wide again. She lowered her arm with a slight shake of her head.
Osun looked at his brother and his eyes softened, a smile pulling at his mouth. ‘This is my brother, Jorrun.’
Jorrun strode forward and grabbed his brother in a hug. Osun was slow to respond, but he placed his hands briefly against Jorrun’s back. Kesta looked away.
Jorrun pulled out a chair and sat, the others followed suit except Cassien who stood rooted to the spot until Azrael darted to the candle, whereupon the boy almost ran to stand beside Osun’s chair.
‘Sit down.’ Osun gave him a shove.
Cassien flushed and pulled out a seat away from the fireplace.
Kesta swallowed, glancing at Osun before turning to Jorrun. He met her eyes and then asked Osun, ‘So, what’s our situation?’
Osun scratched his cheek just above his beard. ‘Tomorrow someone will visit us here who belongs to the group who contacted me in Margith. They call themselves the Order of the Rowen, I don’t know why. They will back anyone who will change the status of women and protect their families.’
Kesta sat back and looked at Osun. He coloured slightly, and she realised she was staring.
‘Rowan was the name of a woman who, according to legend, refused every advance and evaded every trick of the gods Monaris and Warenna.’ Jorrun leaned forward over the table and Kesta smiled to herself. Jorrun loved his history. ‘In the end Monaris lost patience and killed her.’
Kesta’s smile vanished. Osun glanced at her and shifted in his chair.
‘The name makes sense, then.’ Osun nodded slowly. ‘Anyway, their representative here in Navere will speak with us tomorrow. Jagna is still in the Narwhale Inn, he doesn’t know about this place and very little about you. I’ll bring him tomorrow and you can see what you think. He isn’t particularly powerful but it will help our status to have the backing of an old, if almost non-existent, family.’
‘And the palace?’ Jorrun asked.
Osun nodded. ‘I’m sure we can get in the way we got out when we were children.’
Cassien made a sound as though he were about to speak, but quickly clamped his mouth shut. Osun ignored him and went on. ‘I thought we could take a look together tonight?’
Jorrun nodded.
‘Oh.’ Osun glanced at Kesta, then got up and went over to a hessian sack near the foot of the stairs. He pulled something out and returned to the table slowly. ‘I … I thought walking Navere at night with Kesta might draw too much attention and … well, I thought there might be a way for her …’ He gritted his teeth and made himself look at her. Kesta drew her hands down under the table, clenching them into fists. She was aware Jorrun was watching her, barely blinking. ‘Lady, I got you these.’
He placed the objects down on the table and withdrew as though he expected them to come to life and attack him. Kesta took in several slow, deep breaths, before reaching out. She lifted a piece of dark brown fleece to find it had been twisted into the shape of a beard, with two wire hooks to fit over her e
ars. Underneath it was a leather eye patch. A laugh burst out of her. Osun’s eye’s widened and a smile twitched at his mouth before vanishing quickly.
Jorrun was smiling, but he shook his head. ‘It’s a lovely idea, but that won’t fool anyone.’
Osun sat down. ‘Maybe at night, with a hood ...’
‘Maybe, brother,’ he said softly, placing a hand on the table.
Osun nodded, glancing at Kesta. ‘There’s also some food and some oil for Azrael.’
Cassien jumped when the fire-spirit crackled loudly on the mantlepiece. ‘Thank you, Ossun. Jorrun, I need to go and speak with the other Drakess.’
‘Of course, be careful,’ Jorrun frowned.
The fire-spirit darted away from the candle and shot away up the chimney. Kesta realised Osun was watching her and she made herself meet his eyes again. He drummed his fingers silently on the edge of the table, opened his mouth, chewed at his lip, then spoke, his eyes averted again. ‘How is Milaiya?’
Kesta froze, her breath caught in her throat, making her cough.
‘Shall we go and take a look at the palace?’ Jorrun stood quickly.
Osun looked startled, his face coloured. ‘Well, yes, all right.’
Kesta’s skin grew warmer. Pressure built in her sternum. She drew her arms up and pressed them tightly against her abdomen, trying to hold in her rage. She could feel the three men looking at her and she felt as though something exploded inside her chest, her vision blurred and she shot to her feet, knocking back her chair. Seeing the stairs through the flashes of red she all but ran to them, grabbing the loose rail to pull herself up. She pushed through a door and found herself in a small bedroom.
How dare he!
Without thinking she drew fire to her hands, letting her power build. She blasted flames into the small fireplace, letting them rip through her with her anger. The stones of the chimney cracked, soot blackened the floor and walls.
‘Kesta! Stop that now!’
She turned, her power subsiding, breathing hard, every muscle in her body tense. Jorrun let the door close behind him. She expected to see anger, but there was sadness and disappointment in his blue eyes.
