Sorne drew Nitzane aside. ‘I don’t think we should leave the prince in the palace. He was taken from this very chamber, and last night the queen –’
‘Sweet little Jaraile…’ Nitzane swallowed. ‘I hate to think of her in Eskarnor’s hands. I want to ride north for his estate. I have Captain Ballendin and fifty good men. I can call in at two of my estates on the road north and collect reinforcements.’
Sorne was not so sure Eskarnor had retreated to his estate. ‘It’s less than ten days since the Wyrds left the Celestial City. I wouldn’t be surprised if –’
‘Eskarnor’s supporters will be at the city. You’re right. This is the perfect opportunity to strike at him, while he’s separated from the southern barons. I’ll pack and leave right now.’
Sorne caught the baron’s arm. ‘To secure the throne, Eskarnor must kill Prince Cedon. I’m going to hide him. Then I’ll go to the Wyrd city and summon the Chalcedonian barons in the king’s name.’
Nitzane nodded. ‘If Eskarnor has retreated to his estate, I can keep him separated from his supporters and pinned there. It won’t be long before he surrenders. By the time you return, I’ll have Eskarnor’s head for the gate spikes.’
Sorne was not so sure, but he trusted Captain Ballendin to guide the baron.
As Nitzane left, Sorne watched Prince Cedon with an elderly woman. The prince’s wet-nurse had died the day he was abducted. This was… ‘I know your face.’
‘I’m Zurina, the queen’s maid. You could take the prince to Baron Kerminzto’s estate,’ she said, proving she was old, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing. ‘His kinsman would protect him.’
‘It’s the first place his enemies would look.’ Sorne had been toying with the idea of taking the boy south to Shifting-sands Bay. One of Nitzane’s strongholds overlooked the bay, and he had given permission for the Wyrd fleet to shelter there until winter’s cusp, when they were to be exiled. Sorne knew Causare Imoshen would hide the prince and protect him. This plan had the novelty of being unexpected, but it would take several days to ride there and he had pressing duties.
‘You could hide him on one of Baron Nitzane’s estates,’ Zurina suggested.
‘Also too obvious.’ Port Mirror-on-Sea would be ideal. It was walled and would be on alert, and the palace was protected by the king’s guard, but it was impossible to protect someone from an assassin who was ready to sacrifice his own life to kill the target. They needed somewhere close by, but… Sorne had an idea. ‘Are you willing to go into hiding with him?’
‘Of course. I was nursemaid to his grandfather and his mother. Poor girl.’
‘Then pack your bags and Cedon’s, and tell no one of our plans.’
‘How can I, when I don’t know our plans?’
He grinned. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
Sorne went to Halargon, commander of the king’s palace guard, to share his plan for the prince’s safety. The commander was one of the five advisors King Charald had approved to guide his son.
First, Sorne had the commander send word to all the Wyrd estates on Imoshen’s list, telling them to travel to Shifting-sands Bay as soon as possible, to join the Wyrd fleet there instead of Port Mirror-on-Sea.
Then Sorne asked for an escort of twelve king’s guards for the journey to the Wyrd city. It was a small enough party to travel swiftly, but large enough to deter casual brigands.
‘If you can collect the Chalcedonian barons and their men and bring them back here, the port will be defensible,’ Commander Halargon said, then grimaced. ‘I never liked Eskarnor and the other southern barons. Mercenaries and turncoats. Men like that have no real loyalty. When Charald returned, I advised him to give them estates far to the north. I thought, with their thin southern blood, the cold would dampen their ambition. I was wrong. It only made them greedier.’
Sorne nodded. Should the baron evade Nitzane, he wasn’t going to sit still and let Baron Eskarnor ravage Chalcedonia. Eight years serving King Charald during the Secluded Sea campaign had taught him you took the fight to the enemy, you moved fast and you had to be ready to change your plans at a moment’s notice.
‘The king is worse today. I fear his lucid periods are growing shorter, and even when he is lucid, he doesn’t remember what was said only moments before,’ Sorne said. ‘Someone needs to go through his study and make sure everything is in order. I’d do it, but I must ride –’
‘I’ll see that it’s done.’
‘Best see to it yourself,’ Sorne said. ‘There could be sensitive documents.’
Halargon nodded.
Satisfied that the decree would be discovered and the government of the kingdom would not suffer, Sorne returned to the nursery, where he found the queen’s nursemaid ready with a small bundle. Both she and the boy were hooded and cloaked. Sorne pulled up his own hood.
They slipped down through the back passages and stairs of the palace to one of the many servants’ entrances, and out onto the royal plaza. Here they fell in with a party of worshippers visiting the seven churches around the plaza. It took a while – Cedon grew tired, and Sorne had to carry him – but eventually they entered the Father’s church.
Once there, Sorne slipped away from the worshippers and entered the private corridors of the religious order. He’d been coming here for years to visit his family, who had been hidden in the secret apartment above the high priest’s chambers, so he knew the quiet corridors and the times of prayer.
It was not until he reached High Priest Faryx’s outer chamber that he met resistance: a handsome young pup who liked exercising authority.
‘Do you have an appointment?’
Sorne flicked his wrist so the sleeve fell away to reveal the ruby worn by the last high priest. By rights he should have returned it, but it had proved useful on more than one occasion. ‘Faryx will want to see me. Is he in his chamber?’
The assistant eyed the small boy in Sorne’s arms and the elderly woman, then showed them through.
The plump high priest welcomed them to his private study and shut the door.
‘You were ready to guide the prince until he came of age,’ Sorne said. ‘Are you ready to shelter him until his throne is secure, Faryx?’ He pushed back the boy’s hood. Secure in Sorne’s arms, the prince had fallen asleep.
‘We heard he’d been returned this very morning,’ Faryx said softly. ‘But won’t the king –’
‘The king is having one of his turns.’
‘Surely, the queen –’
‘Abducted from the palace last night by Baron Eskarnor.’
‘Seven save us. I hadn’t heard.’
‘We’re trying to keep it that way. It’s up to Nitzane and myself to save her and secure the kingdom. I need to know the prince is safe.’ Sorne glanced to the secret apartment above them. ‘Is it –’
‘Free? Yes.’
‘Your assistant saw us come in. Do you trust him?’
‘With my life.’
Sorne nodded. He found it strange going up the narrow stair to the secret apartment, which he expected to find empty as it had been the night of the riots when he’d hidden here. But it was fitted out for use, although the kitchen larder was empty. The plants in the raised garden beds on the sheltered balcony had been cut back for the winter.
Sorne did not ask what the high priest had been using the apartment for. While Faryx packed away personal items in the sitting room, Sorne took the boy into the bedroom tucked under the sloping roof.
‘What is this place?’ Zurina whispered.
‘It has been many things over the years. My mother and sister lived her for eleven years, and they were good people. Now it is a safe haven for you and Cedon. I promise you one thing, you won’t go hungry. The high priest appreciates good food. And Cedon can run and play on the balcony. Hopefully, you won’t be here too long.’
He left the old nursemaid to unpack and returned to Faryx. The high priest was just sending his assistant away with a basket of belongings.
; ‘He’ll return with food to stock the larder,’ Faryx said.
‘Good. I must ride this very day. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’ Or even if he would survive the war that was coming. ‘Can I ask one thing of you? If Eskarnor seizes the throne, he’ll hunt the boy down and execute him. Take Cedon into the church, change his name and hide him here. He’s young enough not to remember who he really is.’
The high priest nodded. ‘Until he is ready to reclaim the throne.’
‘No. Let him remain a priest.’
Faryx’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t want him to be king?’
‘Enough blood has been spilled and lives wasted in the pursuit of the crown. A king never knows if his friends are true or if the woman who professes to love him loves him for himself or his position.’
Faryx chuckled.
‘What?’
‘I never took you for a romantic.’
‘Me? I am a realist.’
Faryx shook his head.
‘Can I ask you something? Why is that you are not offended by my tainted blood? Most True-men find it hard to meet my eyes, let alone acknowledge me.’
The high priest shrugged. ‘I think the silverheads are definitely a danger to us. But copperheads have no gift, none of the advantages and all of the disadvantages of their tainted blood. Tell me, do you intend to carry out more sacrifices to gain visions?’
‘Not if I can help it. I’ve seen what lies on the higher plane…’ Sorne shuddered. He knew True-men believed the creatures of the higher plane were gods, but in reality they were predators. ‘I’ve been lucky to escape with my life. I don’t want to tempt fate again.’
‘Then you are no threat to True-men or the church.’
A little later Sorne rode out of Port Mirror-on-Sea with a dozen of the king’s guard.
Chapter Four
IMOSHEN’S SHIP WAS about to follow the rest of the fleet through the tall sandstone headlands. Bathed a brilliant red-gold by the dawn sun, the headlands were a thing of beauty, but all she could think of at that moment was Sorne. She’d sent him back to save the last of their people from a kingdom torn by civil war.
Over near the foredeck cabin, Egrayne, her sisterhood’s voice-of-reason, was speaking with one of the children who’d been delivered yesterday. Until they held an all-council meeting, the children could not be assigned to a sisterhood. But for now they were safe, sheltered and fed.
She was so tired, she could hardly think. They’d had to bring forward their exile; she’d spent the three days before they left the city madly scrambling to coordinate their departure. Then she’d travelled through rain and mud for eight days to reach the port, and last night she hadn’t slept.
Her ship was packed with two sisterhoods – hers and the healer’s – along with anyone who’d escaped the wharf during the attack. Despite the overcrowding, she could hear children laughing and Malaunje singing, and smell food cooking. Already she could feel the deck’s rise and fall as they left the sheltered bay, and she suspected that soon everyone would be seasick. Then the overcrowding would only compound the problem.
Looking forward to her bunk, Imoshen stumbled up the steps to the rear-deck and went down the passage towards her cabin.
‘Choice-mother?’ Iraayel opened the door of the shared bathing chamber. At sixteen, her choice-son was half a head taller than her, and just the sight of him made her spirits lift.
‘Iraayel.’ She smiled, then frowned. ‘Is Tancred causing problems?’
They were so cramped for space they’d had to put the big geldr in the same cabin with the lads aged thirteen to sixteen. Tancred would have been born male, but his mother had tried to influence his gender before birth and ruined him. Most days he had the awareness of a five-year-old child coupled with the strength of an adult.
‘The lads tease him,’ Iraayel admitted. ‘But no, it’s Dragazim. Somehow he found out how his choice-mother died, and…’
Imoshen’s heart sank. The night before they left the city, the sisterhood’s gift-tutor had gone down to the crypts below the palace and taken her own life and her devotee’s.
Iraayel opened the door to reveal Saffazi trying to console a boy of thirteen who was in tears.
‘It’s not that she didn’t love you,’ the seventeen-year-old said. ‘It’s –’
‘She didn’t love me. She was always angry with me. She didn’t care what happened to me, otherwise why would she kill herself and Ch… Choris?’ His voice broke. ‘Choris loved me. Now she’s gone, too. I hate…’ He broke off, seeing Imoshen.
She did not try to lie. ‘Your choice-mother was a troubled woman, Dragazim.’ Imoshen crossed the chamber and sat beside him on the edge of the marble tub. ‘It wasn’t that she didn’t love you, more that she was afraid of what we would face in exile. Vittoryxe could not bear to leave the Celestial City. She believed the glory of our people was in the past. She didn’t understand that exile is a great opportunity in disguise.’
As he blinked, a tear ran down his cheek and Imoshen’s gift surged. She was a raedan, able to read people. The glory of the T’Enatuath was all very well, but what this boy needed now was a choice-mother who gave him hope.
She squeezed his shoulder. ‘It’s time to appoint a new choice-mother for you.’ As she stood, she nodded to Iraayel, drawing both him and Saffazi to the door. ‘You did well to alert me to his distress. Thank you.’
Then she hesitated. She could hardly take Dragazim into her cabin, it was full of the sisterhood’s inner circle and the small T’En children. He would not want them to see he’d been crying. The bathing chamber was the only place they could be private. ‘Wait here with him.’
Opening the door, Imoshen discovered Egrayne making her way to their cabin. She stepped into the passage, closing the door after her and lowered her voice. ‘We need to appoint a new choice-mother for Dragazim.’
‘Vittoryxe’s boy?’
Imoshen nodded. ‘He learned how she took her own life. Not only has she left us in the lurch with no trained gift-tutor, but she’s left the boy without a choice-mother.’
‘He’s thirteen.’
Imoshen bristled. ‘He deserves a choice-mother who will stand by him during his last four years with the sisterhood.’
‘Who were you thinking?’
‘It has to be someone of equal or higher stature than his original choice-mother, which only leaves the three sisterhood leaders.’
‘I’m too old to take on another child,’ Egrayne protested. ‘And you’re not only the all-mother but also causare.’
‘It should be Kiane. He’s about to begin his training to prepare him for brotherhood life under her guidance. The sisterhood’s hand-of-force is –’
‘Perfect. I’ll fetch her.’
Imoshen returned to the bathing chamber. She glanced around, taking in the marble tiles and gold fittings. It was hardly the dome of empowerment or the sisterhood’s formal ceremony chamber, but it would have to do.
‘We have a new choice-mother for you,’ Imoshen said.
‘She won’t want me.’
‘Nonsense.’ Egrayne bustled in with her devotee, who carried the lineage book, and Hand-of-force Kiane. ‘You’re thirteen,’ she told Dragazim. ‘Rather than wait until the next empowerment day, let’s see if I can find your gift now.’
Dragazim looked up at the T’Enatuath’s gift-empowerer with a mix of fear and excitement.
Imoshen gave him a smile of reassurance, then gestured to Kiane. ‘And my hand-of-force is here because you’ll need a new choice-mother to guide you and prepare you for the challenges of brotherhood life. Who better than Kiane?’
He flushed and dropped to his knees, giving the deep obeisance. ‘I am honoured.’
‘Very nicely done, Dragazim,’ Imoshen said. ‘Now rise and prepare for empowerment.’
When he came to his feet, his expression was sober, if slightly worried.
‘Dragazim, formerly Choice-son Vittoryxe,’ Imoshen said. ‘The T’Enatuath�
��s gift empowerer will reach into your mind to identify your nascent gift and quicken it. Do you agree to this?’ As if he had a choice; she bristled on his behalf.
The boy nodded.
‘Then thank her for this honour.’
He gave the formal obeisance and said the ritual words. Even though he clasped his hands, left over right, Imoshen could see his fingers trembling.
‘Concentrate on me, Dragazim,’ she urged, as Egrayne stepped around behind him, placing her fingers on his temples.
A shiver ran through his skinny fame.
‘I have been doing this for thirty years, child,’ Egrayne said. She was more than a head taller than him, and she was not as big as the biggest of the T’En men. Dragazim had a lot of growing to do before he entered the brotherhood. ‘This will only hurt if you resist.’
He nodded once.
‘Drop your defences.’
Imoshen felt the rise in Egrayne’s gift as the empowerer plunged into his mind.
Empowerment always seemed wrong to Imoshen. Her gift had simply arisen, and she had honed it through play and experimentation. In spring next year, it would be thirteen years since she had stumbled into the sisterhood’s palace and claimed sanctuary. During that time, she had trained under Gift-tutor Vittoryxe, and she believed the rigid exercises designed to develop the gifts in their prescribed paths actually limited them. Like a limb left unused, other embryonic gifts withered.
If she had her way, Imoshen would put aside this ritual, along with so many other things. If Egrayne only knew her real agenda, she would be horrified.
But Imoshen hid her true feelings as the tension built. It lifted with the suddenness of a silent thunderclap and Dragazim almost fell forward. At the last moment, he steadied himself and blinked sleepily.
‘Well done, lad.’ Egrayne placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You are a gift-warrior.’
He grinned with delight and met Iraayel’s eyes. All the boys looked up to Imoshen’s choice-son. He’d led them the night King Charald attacked the city. Under his leadership, they’d held the grand stair, which saved the T’En nursery. Yet no brotherhood would take him, the blind fools.
Sanctuary Page 4
