Sanctuary

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  When this was done, All-father Abeliode cut his hair and renamed his ship, purchased from the Mieren, the Conquest, but he did not offer to share the three-masted vessel with either All-father Dretsun or Tamaron. She could understand why. His was the largest of the lesser brotherhoods. The Conquest was barely big enough for his brotherhood, let alone another.

  Imoshen looked to old All-father Egrutz. It was rare for an all-father to grow old. She had heard he was training his replacement. Egrutz had the use of one of Paragian’s five-masted ships. He met her eyes and gave a nod. Stepping forward, he cut his hair, mourned their dead, made his vow and renamed his ship the Perseverance, then offered to share with Dretsun’s brotherhood.

  As Dretsun sacrificed his hair, Imoshen marked the difference in the names the brotherhoods and sisterhoods gave their vessels. The all-mothers had named their ships for the attributes they valued: hope, resolution and endurance. While the all-fathers had chosen names like Victory and Conquest. Only old Egrutz had broken the pattern when he named his ship the Perseverance. But then he was nearly ninety and had lived long enough to know that the striving for stature and power was never-ending.

  That left All-father Tamaron’s brotherhood without a ship.

  ‘I’ll send a message to Baron Nitzane and see if he will sell us one of his ships,’ Imoshen told Scholar Hakonnyn. ‘Now we must assign choice-mothers for the T’En children, and allocate brotherhoods for the boys.’

  ‘No,’ Dretsun said.

  As the all-father stepped forward, Imoshen read him. She’d expected a challenge, but thought it would come from Paragian or Hueryx, or even Saskeyne; not Dretsun, leader of a lesser brotherhood.

  Dretsun gestured to Imoshen. ‘I say this causare has led us badly.’

  The atmosphere turned icy as the sisterhood leaders stepped closer to Imoshen.

  Dretsun looked around at the gathering. ‘I say we had to rush our departure from the city –’

  ‘To avoid Baron Eskarnor attacking our people on the road to port,’ Imoshen said. ‘But we outmanoeuvred him and reached port safely.’

  ‘You call that safe?’ Dretsun sneered. ‘We were attacked on the wharf while under the king’s protection.’

  ‘King Charald has grown frail since we made the bargain back in the spring, which is not something I could have anticipated. I’ve arranged for our fleet to shelter here under the protection of Baron Nitzane while we wait for the last of our people to come in from their estates. Or were you going to sail off and abandon them?’

  Dretsun bristled. ‘I say this causare has failed in her duty to protect the T’Enatuath. And I nominate myself for causare.’

  Both Paragian and Hueryx objected, but Imoshen read the leaders of the lesser brotherhoods and realised Dretsun had their backing. It was a clever ploy: the lesser brotherhoods were vulnerable to the great brotherhoods, but if they united under one leader, they were easily bigger than any of the larger brotherhoods alone.

  ‘If we are doing this, then it must be done properly,’ Paragian said. ‘We must call for a vote of no confidence in the causare, then call for nominations.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Imoshen agreed. ‘But first let’s hear what All-father Dretsun would do if he were causare. I take it you have a plan to save our people, Dretsun? You know of somewhere we will be safe? Because we cannot stay here after winter’s cusp, and when the winter storms strike, the Secluded Sea will not be safe for our fleet. Where will we go, Dretsun? Where?’

  She was betting that he had been so focused on unseating her that he had not thought this far ahead.

  His mouth opened then closed and he glared, as he realised he had fallen into her trap.

  ‘Because I have a plan. I know where we can go.’ She paused and looked around the circle. ‘Back in the Celestial City, like you, I was trying to come to terms with exile for my sisterhood, but I was also thinking ahead. I sent a message to the Sagoras of Ivernia.’

  ‘The Sagoras?’ Dretsun’s eyes narrowed. ‘But they are Mieren. Why should Mieren offer us sanctuary? What bargain have you struck?’

  ‘No bargain, yet. But I offered to trade the one thing we are richly endowed with: knowledge. It is the one thing the Sagoras prize, above all else.’

  There was muttering from the brotherhoods and silence from the sisterhoods. Imoshen knew, the moment the men left, the women would be berating her for not consulting them. While it was true she had sent a message to the Sagoras, as yet there had been no reply. But now was not the time to reveal this.

  ‘It was not your right to bargain away the knowledge of the T’Enatuath!’ Dretsun protested.

  ‘I offered to strike a bargain, no more. The details are yet to be negotiated.’

  ‘We can’t give them access to the higher plane,’ Dretsun stated, and though he did not know it yet, she had defeated his challenge. ‘The dangers are too great –’

  ‘I agree,’ Imoshen said. ‘So between now and when we reach Ivernia, we must decide what knowledge, both practical and theoretical, we can offer the Sagoras. All-father Dretsun, can I rely on you to put together a list for barter?’

  He nodded, pleased that his stature had been acknowledged.

  And she had diverted a causare challenge.

  ‘Time to see to the children.’

  Chapter Nine

  ARAVELLE TOOK HER little sister’s hand as they waited on the lower rear-deck. Her brothers were already there, with a T’En boy of five or six holding a small baby. Ronnyn held their newborn brother, Ashmyr; he, Vittor and Tamaron were all richly dressed in velvet and brocade. Their long, white hair had been styled more elaborately than their mother had ever managed, even on feast days. They didn’t look like her brothers any more. Resentment burned in her.

  ‘Tani!’ Tamaron spotted them and ran over to hug Itania, lifting the two-year-old off her feet. Her happy laughter carried.

  ‘Vella.’ Ronnyn’s eyes widened. ‘You look… grown up.’

  She sensed he’d been going to say something else. She wore simple pleated trousers, a long-sleeved knitted vest and a thigh-length smock. The clothing was finer than anything she’d ever owned, but it marked her as a servant.

  ‘You have father’s cane.’ He looked relieved. ‘I thought I’d lost it.’ And he held out his hand as though it belonged to him.

  She didn’t want to give up the cane – it was all she had of their old life – but she handed it over. He was still her brother.

  ‘Here. Enough of that.’ An elderly T’En woman separated them. ‘T’En don’t acknowledge their Malaunje kin.’

  Behind the woman’s back, Ronnyn sent Aravelle a cheeky grin that crinkled his forehead, and mouthed, later.

  Vittor and Tamaron started to protest, but they were sent up to the high rear-deck, where many beautifully-dressed T’En men and women were waiting. Amongst them were Malaunje servants, who were almost as magnificently dressed, each holding a large leather book.

  ‘These are the children of Malaunje loners and runaways, so they don’t know our customs,’ Causare Imoshen said. ‘They must be assigned choice-mothers, and brotherhoods must be allocated for the boys when they reach seventeen.’

  Aravelle picked up Itania, who was tired and starting to grizzle. She felt the grownups watching her, judging her and her parents. She told herself that she didn’t care what they thought, but her family had to live with these people.

  The little boy with the baby was led onto the centre of the carpet. Even though she resented his T’En blood, Aravelle’s heart went out to him, as he tood there so small and alone.

  The boy looked up at the causare. On the other side of the brazier, the T’En men shifted and mumbled, while the T’En women whispered. Aravelle understood what the muttering was about when the boy glanced her way. A streak of copper hair grew from above one ear. She did not know what it meant, but she knew the T’En would regard it as a flaw.

  ‘Tell us what is known of this child, Egrayne,’ the causare said.

  Th
e tall woman beckoned a Malaunje and consulted a book the servant held open for her. ‘He says he is five years old and speaks only Chalcedonian. From what we can gather his parents lived in a mountain village, inhabited only by other Malaunje. We believe his Malaunje parents were the children of Mieren, who ran away to the mountain village. As the child of loners, he has no affiliation with any brotherhood.’

  ‘And the babe?’ the causare asked.

  ‘A female T’En, less than half a year old. No blood kin to him, she’s also the child of Malaunje loners, with no affiliation to any sisterhood.’

  An eager murmur of longing came from the T’En women.

  ‘She’s mine,’ the boy said, his arms tightening protectively. ‘I found her hidden in a chicken coop. Let her suck raw egg off my fingers.’

  ‘That was clever,’ Ronnyn whispered to Aravelle and she realised her brothers had edged closer to her, even though Voice-of-reason Nerazime was with them.

  ‘Which brotherhood will take this boy?’ The causare raised her voice.

  No one spoke.

  ‘Come, he may be the child of loners, but he has shown ingenuity and responsibility.’

  No response.

  Then one of the men raised his hand. ‘I’ll take him.’

  ‘All-father Kyredeon.’ The causare acknowledged a battle-scarred male with a hint of reluctance. Apart from his face being more deeply scarred than any other man’s, he seemed no different from the others to Aravelle. Perhaps the causare read something in him that only a raedan could. Aravelle reminded herself that the boy was T’En; at least he wouldn’t have to spend his life as a servant.

  ‘Make a note in my brotherhood’s lineage book,’ Kyredeon said to two Malaunje behind him.

  ‘Which sisterhood will have the honour of rearing the boy?’ the causare asked.

  No one spoke.

  ‘Come,’ she pressed. ‘I know our ships are overcrowded, but one child will not make a difference. Which sisterhood will rear this boy?’

  No one stirred.

  ‘Is the copper streak so bad?’ Ronnyn asked softly.

  ‘That is one mark against him,’ Nerazime said. ‘But he has also shown defiance. Caring for T’En males of dubious lineage and great spirit is hard work. All that effort, only to give him up at seventeen.’

  ‘I will take the female child,’ an old T’En woman announced. ‘My sisterhood –’

  ‘No. My sisterhood –’ a sour-looking plump woman interrupted.

  As the women argued, the boy took a step back, arms tightening around the infant.

  ‘Since no one will take him, the boy will be my choice-son,’ the causare announced to a ripple of surprise, ‘and since he protected this baby and cared for her all the way across Chalcedonia, I cannot part them. My daughter needs a younger sister to teach her responsibility. Make a note in our lineage book.’

  The T’En women muttered, but no one dared object.

  While the Malaunje wrote in the lineage book, Voice-of-reason Egrayne led the boy around behind the causare. The baby was passed through the thick folds of the causare’s pleated trousers. She lifted the infant up and kissed the babe’s forehead. Then the boy’s head appeared as he crawled through.

  ‘Welcome, choice-son.’ The causare helped the boy to his feet and returned the baby to his arms. She touched the tip of her left hand’s sixth finger to his forehead, then to the babe’s. ‘I swear to protect your lives with my own. I swear to rear you to revere the heritage of the T’Enatuath and protect our Malaunje.’

  ‘Causare, what names shall I put down?’ the Malaunje asked.

  Imoshen focused on the boy. ‘We cannot use your Chalcedonian name, so I will call you… Deyne.’ She hesitated as if she might explain the name’s origin, but when the causare continued it was to discuss the baby’s name. ‘As for the girl –’

  ‘I don’t know her name,’ the boy admitted. ‘I called her Little Chicken because of where I found her.’

  ‘Well, we can’t call her that.’ The causare’s voice held a smile. ‘We’ll call her Arodyti, after my brave and loyal hand-of-force.’ Her voice grew husky with emotion. ‘May this little one live up to her memory.’

  The causare called a Malaunje woman over and her new choice-children were led away.

  Voice-of-reason Nerazime took Ronnyn by the shoulders. ‘Your turn, lad. If she asks you a question, you address her as “causare” or “T’Imoshen.” Off you go.’

  Nerazime indicated that Aravelle was to stand behind her T’En brothers, reminding her of her place. In her arms, little Itania slept on, impervious to the insult.

  Even though Aravelle knew the healer would accept them, she felt nervous.

  ‘What is known of these children?’ the causare asked.

  Healer Reoden stepped forward. ‘There are four male T’En, one of them a newborn, and two female Malaunje, all from the same parents, both Malaunje.’

  Aravelle was close enough to hear Egrayne whisper to the causare. ‘Four healthy T’En from the one set of Malaunje parents. The T’En blood will run strong in those girls.’

  Aravelle bristled. They were not breeding cows.

  ‘I was too late to save the mother,’ Reoden continued. ‘They speak our language, so their parents must have run away from a brotherhood or sisterhood. They don’t know which one.’

  The causare stepped closer to Ronnyn, which made Aravelle realise she was the same height as her brother. ‘Think back. Did your parents ever mention a name of someone from their brotherhood?’

  Ronnyn hesitated. Aravelle knew it was not in his nature to lie.

  When there was no response, the causare turned to Vittor. ‘Where did you come from?’

  ‘The island,’ Vittor said. ‘Mieren came. They killed Da. They burned everything and took –’

  ‘…us prisoner,’ Aravelle said quickly, before Vittor could reveal the beautiful torc Scholar Hueryx had given their mother. ‘Then they threw us in a caged-cart and –’

  ‘The causare was not speaking to you, girl,’ Egrayne reprimanded Aravelle, then added to Imoshen. ‘For all that they speak T’En, they might as well be the children of loners.’

  Aravelle’s cheeks burned.

  The causare raised her voice. ‘It’s not their fault they were raised by runaway Malaunje. The boys need a brotherhood. Which all-father will take them?’

  She waited, but no one stepped forward.

  Aravelle stiffened, lifting her chin to hide the pain of rejection.

  ‘Come, all-fathers,’ the causare urged.

  ‘There’s something wrong with the eldest boy’s arm,’ one of the T’En men said. He was not as big as some, but he was certainly sharp-eyed. ‘Show us, boy.’

  Ronnyn passed their baby brother to Vittor and the cane to Aravelle. Then he lifted his bad arm to reveal the scars and knotted muscles.

  There was an intake of breath from the women and muttering from the men.

  Aravelle bristled. She wanted to shake her brother. She wanted to tell them all how brave he’d been, how hard he’d worked to regain the use of his arm, and how he’d trained his right hand so that he could use it instead of his left. But she couldn’t. It would shame Ronnyn to be defended by a Malaunje.

  ‘It was a stink-badger,’ Vittor said. ‘He killed it to save me. He was amazing. Blood went everywhere.’

  The men grinned.

  ‘Why didn’t you show me?’ the healer asked.

  ‘You were busy,’ Ronnyn said.

  She took his arm in her hands. As her fingers probed his muscles, she frowned.

  ‘You took on a stink-badger with your bare hands?’ the sharp-eyed man asked.

  ‘I had an axe. And’ – Ronnyn glanced over his shoulder – ‘Vella and Vittor helped. But it wasn’t the first stink-badger that did this. It was the second, that came in from the side. I didn’t spot him in time.’

  ‘But he killed it, too,’ Vittor said, his voice full of pride.

  This time the men chuckled.
>
  ‘Can you heal him, Ree?’ the causare asked.

  ‘With time, I can repair some of the damage. But this is too old to heal properly now. It’s a wonder he can use his arm at all.’

  ‘Vella massaged it every day,’ Ronnyn said.

  Both women sent Aravelle assessing looks, as if she’d suddenly proven useful. She looked down, face hot. Back then, Ronnyn’s gift had already been manifesting and every time she massaged his arm, he’d tried to slip past her defences.

  ‘And the broken nose?’ the same man asked.

  ‘Mieren,’ Ronnyn said.

  That drew more mutters. But the tone was different now. Aravelle could tell the men approved of her brother.

  ‘I’ll do what I can for the boy’s arm,’ the healer said. ‘It won’t be perfect, but it will be better. I should reveal that I am honour-bound to rear these four boys and watch over the girls. Their Malaunje mother placed a geas on me with her dying life force.’

  ‘A Malaunje with such an affinity for the gifts,’ Egrayne whispered to the causare. ‘What a waste!’

  A ripple of annoyance and respect raced through the T’En, and a bud of desperate dignity unfurled in Aravelle. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and whispered, ‘Stand tall, boys.’

  ‘So I will take the Malaunje girls into my sisterhood,’ Reoden said. ‘And –’

  ‘Wait.’ The sharp-eyed man left the brotherhood ranks. He moved with coiled tension and radiated concentration as he studied Aravelle’s family.

  ‘All-father Hueryx,’ the causare acknowledged him. ‘What is it?’

  Ronnyn glanced over his shoulder to Aravelle, his forehead crinkling. She knew what he was thinking. Was this the same Hueryx their mother used to tell stories about? Were their parents’ transgressions about to be revealed?

  Hueryx left Ronnyn and came around to study Aravelle.

  She lifted her chin. Even if it was the same Hueryx, he would never recognise them. She’d only been a baby and Ronnyn hadn’t been born when their parents ran away.

  Hueryx lifted a hand to Aravelle’s bruised eye. ‘How…’