The women gasped.
‘You’d put him ahead of your sisterhood?’ the warrior-scholar asked.
‘Of course she wouldn’t.’ Egrayne sprang to her choice-daughter’s defence. ‘She’s not thinking clearly.’
‘Yes, I am. I know that none of the all-fathers will take Iraayel because they hate Imoshen and, if one of them accepted her choice-son, the other all-fathers would despise him.’ Saffazi’s beautiful eyes glistened with furious tears and she had trouble controlling her gift. ‘Just the other night I was on deck when a brotherhood rowboat went by. I don’t think they realised how far their voices carried. They said it would be kinder if…’ – her voice caught – ‘kinder if the causare’s inner circle killed Iraayel themselves, rather than turn him out and let the brotherhoods hunt him for sport, or send him back to Chalcedonia and let the Mieren execute him. It’s not fair. I won’t let you do it.’
‘Is it true?’ Iraayel asked Imoshen, eyes glittering with anger. He would be seventeen soon and then she couldn’t protect him. ‘Have all the brotherhoods rejected me?’
Imoshen flushed. ‘All-father Tamaron has not yet returned.’
‘And may not,’ Saffazi said. ‘That’s why we tried to set up the deep-bonding.’
‘It’s not the physical act of trysting,’ Imoshen said. ‘The mind, body and gift must be in alignment. It’s’ – her throat closed with emotion – ‘it is the greatest joy there is.’
Everyone looked down as though she’d embarrassed herself. Imoshen felt sorry for them because they would never know what she had known.
‘The deep-bonding is dangerous,’ Egrayne said. ‘It’s not permitted. It leaves both partners open to attack. No one, other than Imoshen, has –’
‘That we know of,’ Imoshen corrected.
They all turned to look at her.
She lifted her hands in a shrug. ‘How do we know if others have made the deep-bonding? When the sisterhoods and brotherhoods are so paranoid about each other, we are hardly going to admit to loving and trusting –’
‘I trust Iraayel,’ Saffazi insisted.
‘There’s no point. The deep-bonding wouldn’t save him,’ Tiasarone said. ‘It would make him more dangerous. He would have intimate knowledge of the workings of the female gift.’ She shuddered. ‘We could not have him living alongside us.’
‘Then what’s going to happen to Iraayel?’ Saffazi asked.
Imoshen held her tongue, wanting to hear what her inner circle would say. No one spoke for a moment.
Then Egrayne answered. ‘This is why, once they are empowered at thirteen, we segregate the lads and begin to distance ourselves from them. We know that when they turn seventeen and go into the brotherhoods, we must declare them dead to us and they are reborn as men of the T’En. Once their gifts have matured, we cannot have them amongst us.’
‘It’s wrong, cruel and wrong.’ Saffazi shook her head. ‘What’s going to become of Iraayel? You can’t turn him out.’
Everyone looked to him and he looked to Imoshen.
If Ardonyx convinced Tobazim to take over Kyredeon’s brotherhood and they succeeded, Iraayel would have somewhere to go. But she couldn’t reveal her plans before the sisterhood’s conservatives without admitting she’d made the deep-bonding with Ardonyx. If she did that, these powerful women would feel justifiably betrayed. They would be so angry… her gift surged and she knew they just might kill her.
‘Imoshen?’ Egrayne pressed.
‘There’s still time.’ But time was running out for her choice-son.
NOW THAT SHE was alone, Jaraile found the chambers that formed her prison enormous. Eskarnor had left at dawn, boasting he could force-march his men to the port in four days, long before the halfblood could gather an army and be back to defend the king. She’d watched the barons’ men pour out of the city, thinking, good riddance.
They were all gone by mid-morning and then the city had stood empty – empty boulevards, empty shops, empty balconies. It was a city meant for thousands, and there were two hundred men here now. She heard distant noises, which she took to be Pataxo’s men. The sounds seemed to echo up from the courtyard far below, though it was hard to tell just where they came from.
All day she had paced, trying to think of a way out.
How could she escape when two hundred men stood guard between her and the gate and she didn’t know her way around?
If she could just make it over the causeway to the town, she could borrow a horse. But first she had to escape these chambers, and she was afraid if she did, she’d blunder into one of her captors.
Her stomach grumbled.
Feeling hungry and impatient, she went into the bathing chamber and stretched out on the tiles to listen at the grate. She’d done this several times already today and each time she did, she’d hoped to learn something useful but all she ever heard was the guards betting on dice.
‘…fair gives me the creeps,’ one of them was saying.
‘Your roll.’
‘I mean, think about it. All them Wyrds, living here, doing their foul gift-working year in, year out. It has to sink into a place. I tell you, there’s a spot down near the big stairs where I get the shivers.’
‘Are you going to roll or not?’ There was a pause, rattling, then… ‘That’s the third time in a row you’ve rolled a six.’
‘Just lucky, I guess. Pay up.’
Another pause.
Then the lucky one said, ‘Old Four-fingers says he can feel it when Wyrds use their gifts and he says the whole place stinks of gift power. He says he’s been having dreams since the first night here, dreams about a beautiful woman.’
‘Old Four-fingers wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if he found one in his bedroll. Shut up and roll the dice.’
Jaraile heard distant footsteps, which meant they were bringing her food. She sprang to her feet, hurrying to the reception room.
Since arriving here, she’d pretended to be frightened and spiritless. Now she clutched her shawl around her shoulders as she stood at the balcony doors. She heard the lock turn in the key and the door open. Someone backed in with a tray.
She let them put it on the table before looking around. The two guards stood in the doorway, while the kitchen lad placed a tray of food on the table.
‘I thought all the Wyrds had gone?’ Jaraile said.
‘They’d better be gone,’ one of the guards muttered. She recognised his voice. He was the one who just wanted to play dice, despite his bad luck.
‘Then why was a woman walking on the rooftop garden over there?’
‘Where?’ The lucky guard came over to peer through the balcony door with her.
‘Over there.’ She pointed. ‘It’s too dark to see her now, but she was there twice today.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘Silver hair, beautiful.’
The two guards exchanged a look. Even the lad, removing her lunch tray, looked over. He was about twelve and had a black eye.
‘No Wyrds left in the city,’ the unlucky guard said. ‘You must have been dreaming.’
‘If you say so.’ She rubbed her arms. ‘Could you bring me more firewood? It’s gotten very cold this afternoon.’
Again the two guards glanced to each other.
Jaraile decided to leave it at that for today. She wanted them scared of their own shadows. She wasn’t sure exactly how this would benefit her, but she might be able to convince them to leave the sisterhood palace and go down to the brotherhood palace. Then she stood a better chance of getting out the gate.
PART TWO
Chapter Fourteen
SORNE RODE INTO Shifting-sands Bay, and was struck by its beauty. The surrounding hills were steep, and as his party rode along the path to the stronghold they looked down on the sparkling waters. Inside the narrow headlands, the bay spread out, dotted with islands. Around each island and along the shore were the sand bars that moved with every tide, giving the bay its name. Between the deep blue
water where the Wyrd ships lay moored and the bands of glittering azure over the shallow sand bars, the bay rippled and shone like a gleaming jewel.
Shifting-sands Bay was the closest deep harbour to Navarone, but it was not popular with captains: the sea built up in the narrow entrance to the headlands with each tide, then poured through with devastating force, changing the floor of the bay every time. Entry to the bay had to be timed between the tide’s ebb and flow, and the force of the tide varied with the movements of the two moons. Only those familiar with the bay risked it. All this he had learned from Nitzane, who had grown up here and loved the place.
The baron’s stronghold stood on the tallest of the sandstone headlands, and was made of the same golden stone. While the castle wasn’t large, it was secure. This was where Nitzane had taken Marantza when they married and ran from King Charald. The baron had confessed he could not bring himself to return since his wife’s death.
When Sorne rode through the archway into the first courtyard, men and boys came running, but they’d expected Baron Nitzane and stood about uncertainly at the sight of him, the king’s guard, the baroness, her children, the two nursemaids and half a dozen men-at-arms. Despite the party’s number, they’d made good time, after sending the injured king’s guard to the Mother’s abbey near Riverbend Stronghold.
Sorne swung his leg over the horse and dropped to the ground. ‘Where’s the castle-keep?’
She bustled out, and bobbed her head. ‘Warrior’s-voice.’
‘King’s agent Sorne, now. Or more correctly, the queen’s agent. Baron Nitzane sent this for you,’ Sorne said. He pulled a message from his vest. It gave him authority to use Nitzane’s stronghold, servants and ships as he wished. There was another message for the leader of the stronghold’s men-at-arms. He was to deliver them to Riverbend Stronghold as soon as possible. ‘And the baron asked if your cat had had any more kittens with folded ears.’
‘Why, bless him for remembering.’
‘Are there kittens, Ma?’ Aingeru’s little girl asked.
‘Kittens? There’s always kittens, my pretty.’ The castle-keep beamed. ‘My princess is famous in these parts for producing kittens with folded ears. Most sought after, they are.’
She made them all welcome, bustling inside. In no time at all, the horses had been led away and the children had been sent to the kitchens to see the princess of cats with her latest litter. Bed chambers were allocated and aired, and the castle-keep led Sorne to a chamber overlooking the bay.
‘This will be yours. It’s the master’s when he comes, which is not often enough, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
‘He was heartbroken when his wife died.’
She nodded. ‘He came to the docks after her death, whisked his boy onto a ship and hasn’t been to visit us. When you consider he spent his childhood here, you’d think he’d come back to see us.’
Sorne had been afraid the castle’s retainers would resent being asked to serve a halfblood, but his part in helping Nitzane and his wife escape King Charald’s wrath was remembered.
‘More of the barons’ families will come,’ Sorne said.
‘How long will they stay?’ the castle-keep asked.
‘Not long. They’ll sail for the palace. Prince Cedon’s been returned, and the Wyrds have healed his club foot. There will be celebrations.’ Sorne glanced down through the open balcony doors to the bay below. As he watched, lanterns were lit on several of the ships. It had been ten days since the T’En had fled the port, time for the some of the Wyrd estates to get the messages he’d sent and make the journey. ‘Do you know if many of the Wyrds have arrived by land?’
‘I did hear of some coming through the town. Now, what would you like for dinner?’
‘See to the baroness first. She’ll want to settle the children. I must go down to the ships.’
He noted two of Nitzane’s merchant vessels at the wharf. Just as well. He would have to commandeer both, one to send the northern harbours to collect the barons’ families and one to take the southern families to Port Mirror-on-Sea.
Kerminzto’s messenger had ridden hard and caught up with him on the road here. He now knew where Jaraile was being held in the Wyrd city.
But he did not know if Kerminzto had met up with Nitzane in the north. Nitzane should have reached Eskarnor’s estate by now, taken his family hostage and be heading back to Port Mirror-on Sea.
‘HE’S HERE.’
Imoshen looked up at Frayvia. Her devotee wore that expression for only one person. ‘Sorne’s back?’
‘He’s coming aboard right now.’
Imoshen nodded to Tiasarone and left the children to finish their dinner while she went out onto the deck, where the lanterns had been lit. There were more Malaunje on deck than normal. They pretended to work, or stood about, waiting to catch a glimpse of Sorne.
She glanced to the nearest T’Enatuath ships and saw several lowering boats. Sorne’s rowboat had been spotted coming out from port. The all-fathers would be here in no time. ‘Send a message to all the ships. We’ll hold an all-council. Fetch Ree.’
She wondered if the all-fathers realised the honour they did Sorne, coming to hear him speak.
Egrayne caught up with her. ‘You’ve called an all-council?’
Imoshen nodded.
‘Then come back to the cabin and let my devotee do your hair.’ Egrayne grimaced. ‘You look like a Mieren, with it hacked off so short. Roskara has a real flair for dressing hair. She can hide –’
‘I’m not hiding my hair. I cut it to mourn our dead and make a point. And every time the other T’Enatuath leaders see it they’re reminded of this.’
At that moment, Sorne climbed aboard and Frayvia threw her arms around him. He laughed, and his usually grim expression lightened.
They came over to Imoshen together.
Sorne gave his obeisance. ‘Causare.’
‘What news do you have of our people?’ Imoshen asked.
‘Messages were sent to every estate ten days ago. I hoped you had news for me.’
She shook her head. ‘A few of the smaller estates have come in, just a handful of people. There’s still time.’ Albeit not much. ‘Would the king –’
‘The king is locked away in his palace. Half the time he’s raving, and the other half he doesn’t remember what he had for breakfast. Guardians have been appointed to guide the prince.’
‘At least little Cedon is safe.’
‘He’s in hiding. Eskarnor will besiege the port any day now. I’m taking the baron’s families hostage and gathering an army.’
She heard a deep voice. The first of the brotherhood triumvirates’ boats had drawn near. ‘Kiane, send them up to the high rear-deck. Frayvia, prepare the spiced wine.’
As Imoshen led Sorne up the steps, she whispered, ‘Is there anything else I need to know before the others get here?’
‘Baron Eskarnor abducted Queen Jaraile the night before you returned the prince. Cedon still hasn’t seen his mother and Jaraile was told that the Wyrds had killed him.’
‘She must be heartbroken. Is there any way you can –’
‘I’ve already sent word that he’s safe.’
‘Good.’ Imoshen found that her people had brought up a brazier and the all-council carpet.
Reoden joined them. ‘All better, Sorne?’
He gave her a deep obeisance. ‘I feel like a new man, thanks to you, the causare and the gift-wright.’
As the rest of the brotherhood and sisterhood leaders took their places around the circle, Imoshen whispered to Sorne, explaining who each person was. Then she introduced him formally. By the time this was done, the spiced wine was ready to serve.
Frayvia offered Imoshen first, and Imoshen deferred to Sorne.
‘What?’ All-father Dretsun objected. ‘That we have a Malaunje speaking at an all-council meeting is bad enough, but to give him precedence in the spiced wine ceremony?’
Sorne refused the spiced wine and indicated
Frayvia was to continue around the circle.
‘At least he knows his place,’ All-father Saskeyne said. ‘A Malaunje cannot have the status of a T’En.’
Imoshen felt Sorne’s quiet fury and spoke up quickly. ‘It’s thanks to this Malaunje that we reached port alive. It’s thanks to him that we have the opportunity to shelter here and wait for the people from our estates. I think we can share spiced wine with him.’
‘And where are the people from our estates?’ Kyredeon demanded. ‘I’m waiting on a silver mine and two merchant houses. I know my people at the winery were massacred, but I’ve not had word from the others.’
‘That’s because they’re travelling across Chalcedonia,’ Imoshen said. ‘Hopefully unmolested.’
‘We were promised until winter’s cusp. King Charald –’
‘King Charald is raving mad.’ Imoshen cut him off. ‘The prince is in hiding, the queen has been abducted by Baron Eskarnor and Chalcedonia is about to erupt in civil war. Sorne is gathering an army.’
The all-fathers cast him measuring looks.
‘Yet you say he’s not your devotee?’ All-father Egrutz, oldest of the brotherhood leaders, asked.
Clearly, they felt threatened by Sorne, but Imoshen did not understand why they kept coming back to his status within the T’Enatuath. ‘Sorne is a free Malaunje, attached to no brotherhood or sisterhood.’
‘Then he is not under anyone’s protection,’ Dretsun said, and Imoshen finally understood. If a brother was turned out of his brotherhood, he was without protection, hunted down and killed. It followed, an unaffiliated Malaunje…
‘He is in the causare’s service,’ Imoshen said. ‘And he should have the gratitude of every one of us.’
There was some muttering at this.
‘I ride back to lead an army to war,’ Sorne announced, without asking permission to speak. ‘It would greatly weaken Eskarnor if I were to free the queen. He’s holding her captive in the Celestial City.’
There was even more muttering at the thought of the Mieren baron turning their beautiful city into a prison.
‘Why should we help free a queen who made war on our people?’ Dretsun countered. ‘Why should we care who rules Chalcedonia?’
Sanctuary Page 16
