She sidestepped him, glaring.
He chuckled, muttering under his breath. ‘I swear it is Sasoria all over again.’
Aravelle gasped to hear mother’s name.
Hueryx turned to Ronnyn. ‘And you… I thought I’d lost you.’ He shook his head in wonder.
Aravelle was aware of the causare and Reoden exchanging worried looks.
‘You know these children?’ the causare asked.
Hueryx nodded. ‘They are as alike as peas in a pod and they all have the impudent look of a very valuable, but wilful, Malaunje scribe who went missing under strange circumstances nearly thirteen years ago. I am honour bound to take the boys when they turn seventeen and protect the girls right now. They are brotherhood-born.’
Aravelle’s heart sank. Now she wouldn’t see her brothers until they were all grown up. Ashmyr would never know her.
‘But I must fulfil the geas,’ Reoden protested, glancing to the causare for support.
‘Do it by rearing the boys,’ Hueryx said. ‘I’ll have them back when they are ready for the brotherhood. The girls are mine. I’ll take them now.’
Vittor shuffled closer to Ronnyn and Aravelle. Her brother glanced to Nerazime, who gave the slightest shake of her head and nodded towards the causare. She would decide. Aravelle focused on her.
‘They are brotherhood-born, causare,’ Hueryx reminded her. Although he spoke softly, his tone held a warning. ‘Would you deny the brotherhoods their due?’
‘This is easily resolved. Where is your brotherhood’s lineage book?’ the causare asked.
Hueryx beckoned a Malaunje, who hurried over with a large, leatherbound tome.
While the all-father flicked through this, looking for the right page, the causare turned to Ronnyn. ‘Name your Malaunje birth parents, if you can.’
‘My mother was Sasoria and my father was Asher,’ Ronnyn said. Then he added, as if he could not help himself, ‘My father died trying to protect us. We had to leave his body for the wild dogs.’
Aravelle felt hot tears sting her eyes. Vittor gave a soft sob, but she refused to cry.
‘It must have been hard to leave him,’ the causare said and her hand cupped their cheeks one after the other. Inexplicably, Aravelle felt a weight lift from her chest with the causare’s touch.
‘Sometimes we have to do hard things,’ the causare said, holding her eyes. ‘They shape us, but they should not cripple us.’
Then the causare turned to All-father Hueryx. ‘Are the children’s birth parents listed under your Malaunje?’
He smiled and gestured for the Malaunje servant to show the causare the open page.
She ran her finger down the list of names. ‘Here they are. Sasoria, scribe and Asher, illuminator.’
Aravelle blinked. Her father had illuminated manuscripts? He had been an artist?
Of course he had, just look at the cane.
The causare dismissed the servant.
‘As if that is not enough, this speaks for itself,’ Hueryx said and held out his hand for their father’s cane.
Aravelle didn’t want to give it to him. She just knew he was going to use it against them in some way. But she had no choice. When Hueryx lifted the cane to study the carved snake on the handle, she realised the same symbol was central to the design on his neck torc. A snake swallowing its tail.
The all-father raised his eyes to her brother. ‘Where did you get this, Ronnyn?’
‘My father carved it, after the sea-boar gored his leg.’
‘Stop calling him father.’ Hueryx pounced on that word. ‘He wasn’t your father, boy.’ He turned to the causare, displaying the cane triumphantly. ‘This cane proves it. They came from my brotherhood, and the boy is my son. When his mother knew he was going to be born T’En, she ran away.’
There was a hushed murmur of disapproval from the rest of the T’En.
Aravelle opened her mouth to object, then bit her tongue.
But Hueryx noticed. He raised his brows, crinkling his forehead in challenge. At that moment he looked so like Ronnyn, it took her breath away.
It was true. All true…
A rushing filled her head. She hated All-father Hueryx. He’d destroyed everything she believed. Her mother had lied to them, letting them think they all shared the same father.
Hueryx gestured to his lineage book. ‘See that it is written. Ronnyn, son of All-father Hueryx.’ Those sharp eyes returned to the causare. ‘Do the sisterhoods acknowledge my claim?’
Aravelle was close enough to see the look of apology the causare sent Healer Reoden before she spoke.
‘We acknowledge All-father Hueryx’s claim on Ronnyn and his brotherhood’s claim on all these children. All-mother Reoden, consider your geas fulfilled where the Malaunje girls are concerned. You will have the boys to rear until they turn seventeen.’
‘Nerazime, enter the boys in our lineage book,’ Reoden said. ‘Mark them as destined for Hueryx’s brotherhood.’
While the sisters consulted over the book, Hueryx returned the cane to Ronnyn. ‘Fine workmanship. I see Asher never lost his touch. But then he always did appreciate the finer things in life.’
There was such anger in his silky voice that Aravelle shivered.
It reminded her of something she’d overheard her father say, back on the island. When he’d spoken of Scholar Hueryx, there’d been an undercurrent of anger in his voice. And she just knew Asher had been forced to stand aside when Hueryx claimed her mother, but he had reclaimed her when they ran away. How that must have infuriated the all-father.
Yet Asher had been the one to suggest returning to the Celestial City so that Ronnyn’s gift could be trained. Even knowing what awaited him, Asher had been willing to return to the brotherhood. Now that was love. She felt proud to have him for a father.
Hueryx beckoned another Malaunje servant. He was a warrior by his bearing, although his jaw was beardless. ‘Saskar, see to the Malaunje girls.’
Saskar gave his obeisance and took Aravelle’s elbow to guide her towards the brotherhood side of the carpet. ‘This way.’
It was all happening too quickly. She looked up to Ronnyn. He went to go to her, then stopped himself. In that instant, she both hated and loved him.
Hated him for being T’En, and All-father Hueryx’s son.
Loved him for still wanting to acknowledge her, a lowly Malaunje.
But he was wise to hold back.
Vittor and Tamaron had no such reservations. They ran to her, sobbing.
Awkwardly, with the newborn in one arm, Vittor flung his free arm around Aravelle’s waist. Tamaron clamoured to be picked up; his cries woke Itania, who responded with tears of her own. Her cries cut Aravelle to the core. It was too much. Ronnyn tried to join them then, but Hueryx was already drawing them apart.
‘Here, none of that,’ the all-father admonished. ‘They’re Malaunje, boy. Think of your stature.’
Vittor’s eyes blazed and he would have objected, but Aravelle sent him a fierce, warning look.
He took her meaning and retreated a step to rejoin Ronnyn.
‘Tamaron,’ Reoden said, opening her arms. He went to her and she scooped him up in one arm. Her free arm settled protectively around Vittor and Ronnyn’s shoulders.
‘They’ve been living wild, Hueryx,’ Reoden said, ‘and don’t know any better.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, I know what’s been going on. More so than you, I think. I’d watch out for those boys if I were you. If they are half as daring as their mother, they’ll be trouble!’
‘I’m more than ready. I felt the force of the mother’s will.’ The healer’s beautiful wine-dark eyes fixed on him. ‘A scribe with such keen affinity for the gifts? You should have taken better care of her.’
‘Hard to take care of someone when they won’t let you!’ A spasm of anger tightened the all-father’s features as he gestured to Ronnyn. ‘At least I’ve claimed him. Malaunje women keep their counsel, and we count ourselves lucky if they ackn
owledge us as the fathers of our own children. Then you T’En women take them away and rear them. And we might see them once or twice in seventeen years.’
‘This is the way of the T’Enatuath. It has always been so.’
‘That does not mean we have to like it!’
For a heartbeat, the all-father and all-mother faced each other over Aravelle. There was a divide within the T’Enatuath that her mother’s stories had only hinted at. What else had she glossed over?
‘Now that the matter is resolved, let us move on,’ the causare announced, her voice clear and forceful.
‘All-mother,’ Hueryx offered Reoden obeisance, one hand going to his forehead and out, though the gesture held a bitter edge.
‘All-father.’ She inclined her head as Hueryx backed away.
Aravelle felt the Malaunje warrior tug on her arm, and she went with him as he drew her away from her brothers and into the brotherhood ranks.
She held Ronnyn’s eyes until Hueryx stepped between them, blocking her view. From behind a wall of tall T’En men, she heard her brothers become Healer Reoden’s choice-sons.
The sisterhoods had claimed her T’En kin, just as her mother had always feared.
Her mother… who had refused to give up her children, who had lied, who had never stopped loving them…
It was all too much. Aravelle’s head swam and she just wanted to hide somewhere safe and cry herself to sleep.
‘Tomorrow we will have to repack the holds and negotiate to buy the stores we lost,’ Imoshen said. ‘But tonight, we celebrate our escape from the wharf and finding safe harbour.’
As Aravelle waited to be rowed across to the brotherhood ship, the sisterhood Malaunje came up on deck, bringing food and musical instruments.
Chapter Ten
ARAVELLE IGNORED SASKAR’S offer of help and picked up sleepy Itania. They had just climbed aboard the all-father’s ship. Only it wasn’t Hueryx’s ship, it belonged to All-father Kyredeon; and the celebration had already begun. Someone started to play pipes and towards the rear of the ship people came out on deck, talking and laughing. The noise woke Itania, who whimpered and clung to Aravelle.
‘There you are,’ Hueryx thrust through the crowd. ‘Saskar, take Aravelle to…’ He broke off, spotting someone behind her. ‘Charsoria, come here.’
All-father Hueryx greeted a broad-shouldered Malaunje woman who looked a few years older than Aravelle’s mother. He leaned closer to Aravelle, raising his voice above the music. ‘This is the leader of my brotherhood Malaunje, Vella.’
‘Charsoria, this is Sasoria’s eldest daughter, Aravelle. Accord her the stature due my Malaunje daughter.’
Aravelle’s gaze flew to Hueryx’s face. He sent her a knowing smile, that was familiar because she’d seen it on Ronnyn’s face so many times.
She’d accepted that Hueryx was Ronnyn’s father. But hers? She felt sick, betrayed by her mother yet again. The bedrock of her life was built on sand. For all that he had treated her like his daughter, Asher was not her father.
But he would always feel like her father. It was this sharp-eyed T’En man who was the interloper.
‘Welcome to the brotherhood, Vella,’ Charsoria said. ‘You will address me as the all-father’s-voice.’
‘All-father’s-voice Charsoria.’ Aravelle shifted Itania to her right arm, freed her left and gave her obeisance. ‘My name is Aravelle, not Vella.’
Charsoria stiffened.
‘Just like her mother.’ Hueryx grinned. ‘The little one is Sasoria’s child, too. And she produced four T’En boys, Chara.’
‘Four? The T’En blood runs strong in this family. The girls will be a great asset, all-father.’ Charsoria’s mouth was tight and thin, as though the words left a bitter taste on her tongue.
Aravelle was not going to be an asset to anyone, not if she could help it.
‘I don’t see Sasoria. Where is my half-sister, all-father?’ Charsoria asked.
Aravelle bit back a gasp. She hadn’t known her mother had a half-sister. Sasoria’s stories had mostly been of the brotherhood’s past glories, and of Scholar Hueryx, who had featured as a clever trickster, always confusing his opponents.
‘I’m sorry.’ His expression clouded and his voice broke. ‘Sasoria died the day we reached the wharf, Chara. All-mother Reoden’s fostering the boys. The girls will be your choice-daughters, as befits their stature.’
Charsoria gave her obeisance. ‘It will be so.’
But not because she wanted them, Aravelle could tell.
‘This way.’ Charsoria went to leave.
But Hueryx caught Aravelle’s arm and gestured to the bruises on her face. ‘The Mieren who captured you, did they rape you? Did they hurt you, Vella?’
Tears of fury threatened, but she would not cry. She raised blazing eyes to him. ‘They raped me, but they could not hurt me!’
His eyes widened.
She jerked her arm from his slack fingers, stepped back, then turned to follow Charsoria.
The all-father’s-voice gestured to the hatch leading belowdeck.
Aravelle climbed down carefully, with Itania in one arm. Charsoria followed. The middle of the lower deck was full of men and boys older than Ronnyn. All were Malaunje, and all were dressed like princes. The floor was a satiny wood, the fittings polished brass. Real glass gleamed in the windows. Rich carpets covered the floor. Piles of belongings were stacked everywhere.
The all-father’s-voice gestured to the bow of the ship. ‘All-father Kyredeon’s brotherhood lives in the stern. This end is ours.’ And she led Aravelle to the prow, where cabins were tucked into the ship’s blunt nose.
A girl of about Aravelle’s age came out of the passage door, carrying bedding.
Charsoria grabbed the girl’s arm. ‘Make up two meals. Nariska, bring them to my cabin.’
Aravelle followed Charsoria into the passage, walking past two cabins. Their open doors revealed women settling young Malaunje children for the night. These cabins also contained gleaming paintings, richly coloured wall-hangings, carpets, and chests with shining brass handles. Aravelle had never seen such wealth.
Charsoria opened the last door and stepped into the cabin. This room was decorated even more richly. Aravelle could not take in the opulence. If this was how the Malaunje lived, how did the T’En live?
Several older women and more than half a dozen children looked up. They were all well-dressed.
‘My new choice-daughters. Sasoria’s girls, Aravelle and Itania,’ Charsoria said. ‘These are my inner circle and their children.’
The oldest of the women cast Aravelle a wary glance. The middle-aged one came over to join Charsoria. Now that Aravelle saw them together, she saw the similarity in their faces. These two were related.
Charsoria beckoned to the oldest woman. ‘Redravia, take the little one.’
‘I can look after Itania,’ Aravelle said.
‘And you will,’ Charsoria agreed. ‘But first I want to talk to you.’
Redravia approached and held out her arms. Aravelle passed Itania across, with soft assurances that everything would be all right.
As she turned around, Charsoria slapped her across the face.
Caught off balance, she fell, hitting the floor heavily. Her swollen lip split again, filling her mouth with blood.
Tears of shock obscured Aravelle’s vision.
‘No, don’t get up. Stay there and listen.’ Charsoria stood over her, hands on her hips. Behind her the middle-aged woman watched, eyes bright with malicious delight. ‘Don’t you shame me, girl. You might be Hueryx’s acknowledged child, and Sasoria’s daughter, but I am your choice-mother now. And I’ve worked too long and hard to have you lower my stature by your behaviour. Don’t you shame me like your mother did!’
‘She reminds me of her mother,’ the middle-aged woman told Charsoria. ‘She has the same impudent look.’
Charsoria’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll be watching you.’
Itania whimpered.
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Charsoria ignored the toddler, focusing on Aravelle. ‘The Mieren raped you?’
Aravelle nodded.
‘Are you bleeding?’
She touched her lip; of course she was bleeding.
‘No. I meant, are you likely to fall pregnant? We don’t want any Mieren brats born to our women.’
The idea hadn’t occurred to Aravelle and she shuddered with horror, then shook her head, grateful that she was not yet a woman.
‘Then get up.’
Despite Aravelle’s best effort not to cry, tears ran down her cheeks. It was the shock of the blow, not the pain.
‘Stop your snivelling. You’re not the only one who’s been raped. The Mieren do it to teach our women a lesson, to make us lesser beings like their women. But we aren’t like them. We choose our lovers. We decide who will father our children and whether we acknowledge them as such.’ Charsoria’s mouth thinned. ‘And don’t think to go whining to All-father Hueryx. He has enough on his hands now that we have to share the ship with Kyredeon.’
There was a soft knock on the door. Charsoria glanced at it then back to Aravelle. ‘Well, get the door, girl. That’ll be Nariska with your food.’
Aravelle wiped her face and answered the door.
Nariska entered with a tray.
‘You can eat once you’re clean. Strip,’ Charsoria ordered. ‘Strip your sister and yourself. Those clothes will be returned to the healer. We don’t want her charity. Then scrub yourselves. We don’t want any sisterhood gift residue. See that they do it properly, Hariorta. I have work to do.’ And she went to the desk, leaving them under the middle-aged woman’s malicious care.
‘Bring them, Redravia,’ Hariorta ordered and went through to the bathing chamber and stood over them as Aravelle took off Itania’s clothes, and then her own.
The old woman ran some water in the tub. This bathing chamber was finer than anything they’d had at home. The thought made Aravelle’s chest ache with sorrow. She soaped herself and Itania under Hariorta’s watchful eye, then rinsed them both.
‘Check their hair for lice, Redravia.’
Shame and fury made Aravelle’s cheeks burn as the old woman ran her fingers through Itania’s hair, searching her scalp, then straightened up. ‘I don’t see any –’
Sanctuary Page 11
