She stared pointedly at his arms.
He dropped them, although this cost him.
So close…
They were so close he could sense her gift on her skin, and it called to his. He wanted to roll naked in her power.
‘Contain your gift, all-father.’
Her words meant nothing to him. They were just strange sounds that became lost in the rushing in his ears and the pounding of his heart.
‘Tobazim.’ Ardonyx slid an arm around him, pressing against his back. Chin on Tobazim’s shoulder, he siphoned off a little of his excess power.
The causare – she was every bit the causare now, and not the sweet sister he’d glimpsed before – glared at Ardonyx. ‘How dare you bring him to me in this state?’
‘It’s you. You breached his walls the night you gift-infused him.’
Horrified to think his shield-brother had betrayed his weakness, Tobazim flung off Ardonyx’s restraining arm and ran across the deck, heading for his own ship. Shame stung his face, burning his cheeks, driving him to seek the privacy of his cabin.
He didn’t bother to light a lamp, but stood staring out the windows. How had it come to this?
His gift still raged for the causare and it took all his self-control to contain it. He didn’t know how long he stood there.
Eventually, the cabin door opened behind him and he turned, furious. ‘Why did you tell her? How could you shame me like that?’
‘What? After you’d already shamed yourself?’
He turned away, grasped the bulkhead above the bunk in both hands and thumped his forehead on the polished wood.
‘Tobazim.’ Ardonyx crossed the cabin, caught him around the chest. ‘Listen…’
Tobazim went to brush him off, but his shield-brother would not be diverted. Furious, Tobazim tried to overpower him. But, fast as he was, Ardonyx countered him. Neither went for painful blows, it was all quicksilver skill – even so, a chair went flying and Tobazim ended up pinned to the wall, panting with exertion and emotion.
Short of hurting himself or Ardonyx, he could not break free. He groaned and threw his head back, skull thumping against the wall. ‘She’ll think me a fool.’
‘She apologised.’
‘What?’
‘She apologised for breaching your walls. Said she would never have gift-infused you if she’d realised you had a concussion.’
‘Really?’
Ardonyx nodded.
They heard running feet, feminine laughter and a slamming door in the hallway outside.
‘She also said there was no privacy for trysting on board ship,’ Ardonyx said.
‘She’s not angry with me?’
His shield-brother shook his head. ‘She was angry with me for not protecting you as a shield-brother should.’
Tobazim took a moment to think this through. ‘We weren’t shield-brothers when I was gift-infused.’
‘No.’ Ardonyx grinned. ‘But I should have been looking out for you.’
Tobazim pulled him close, forehead to forehead. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I…’
Ardonyx kissed him.
And he forgot what he was about to say. He forgot everything, because he felt the causare’s gift riding his shield-brother.
He pulled back. ‘She –’
‘Gift-infused me. Her apology to you, through me. Don’t worry. Her power’s safe for you. I’ve taken the edge off it.’
But that wasn’t what Tobazim truly wanted. He wanted to immerse himself in her gift until he lost all sense of self. Just as well his shield-brother was here to protect him. It was the last coherent through he had, as he reached for Ardonyx.
ARAVELLE PRESSED HER hand to her split lip, tears of pain stinging her eyes. She hoped Ronnyn and Sardeon had escaped Dragomyr and made it back to their ship.
If they had slipped away, the voice-of-reason would be coming for her. Even though there was more to clean up, she darted out of the cabin, running down the passage towards the door to the mid-deck.
Only to meet up with Dragomyr as he flung the door open.
He grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the cabin, where he spun her around and shook her. ‘They got away, the empowered lad and young sisterhood initiate. What were you up to?’
She was glad they’d escaped. Glad, even if it meant she was in trouble.
‘What’s a sisterhood initiate doing in here?’ He raised his hand, threatening to slap her.
She didn’t answer. Dragomyr had never liked her. He’d find a way to make this her fault.
He shook her. ‘Who were they?’
‘I’m not telling you. I’ll tell the all-father.’
‘Hueryx is busy. So tell me.’
She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
He glared at her, then flung her away from him. ‘Clean up, then get out. They’ll be back here to tryst before long.’
Face burning, she finished cleaning up and left.
Tomorrow she’d tell Hueryx the truth. She had a suspicion that even though Ronnyn had left the sisterhood ship and entered brotherhood territory without permission, Hueryx would be proud of his daring.
Slipping through the dancers, she climbed down the ladder onto the Malaunje deck and headed for the cabin. She was proud of Ronnyn. He hadn’t forgotten her and Itania. He…
As she opened the cabin door, Charsoria’s hard palm connected with her cheek, splitting her lip further and knocking her sideways.
Aravelle staggered several steps and hit the cabin wall.
Charsoria stalked towards her.
For a moment, she had no idea why the all-father’s-voice was angry.
Then she saw Redravia’s worried face in the background.
And it all came back to her. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen. Hariorta panicked. She was going to –’
Charsoria covered her mouth, stepped in close, shoved her against the wall and spoke in a voice so thick with hatred it was almost unintelligible. ‘So you killed her.’
Aravelle couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe.
‘It was an accident. Hariorta fell on the knife,’ Redravia pleaded. ‘I was there. I saw it all.’
‘And she boasted of it to the hand-of-force’s devotee, so now the all-father knows and he’ll stand by his brat, even if she is Malaunje. Where does that leave me?’ Charsoria demanded. ‘Alone without my female kin!’
Aravelle could have pointed out that she and Itania were Charsoria’s nieces. But even if her mouth hadn’t been covered, she wouldn’t have bothered.
Charsoria’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think you’re so smart. You think you can’t be touched. But I know your weakness. If you take one step out of line, your little sister is going to pay, and keep on paying.’
Aravelle tried not to panic. But, if a tragic accident could happen to Hariorta, then how much more easily could it happen to vulnerable little Itania?
She wanted to protest that her sister was innocent, but fear froze her.
Using Itania to punish her was wrong; the injustice of it burned. Tears of fury filled her eyes.
Charsoria leant in closer. ‘Yes, cry. Weep for yourself. You’re going to wish you were never born. You think I was hard on you before? That was nothing – nothing – to what’s coming.’
And she reached up under Aravelle’s robe, caught her right nipple and pinched, twisting as hard as she could.
Aravelle made a high-pitched moan of protest.
Satisfied, the all-father’s-voice released her, wiping her hands down her sides as if they were dirty. ‘Go.’
Aravelle ran over to her bedroll, undid it and cuddled Itania. Her split lip stung and her cheek throbbed, but that was nothing compared to her breast. It hurt so much she dare not touch it.
But even that was not her biggest worry. How was she going to protect Itania?
Chapter Forty-Three
SORNE COULD FEEL the boat settling deeper into the sea as it began to wallow between the swells. Since lo
ng before dawn, every child big enough to carry a pot or bucket had been bailing, but it did no good.
Tiasely sent around one of the smaller children with a basket of carrots. Sorne took one. He was heartily sick of eating carrots, especially as they had started to go soft.
Vivore and Vivane had begun dismantling the cabin fittings to build a raft. They’d taken the bunks out and built a frame, lashing planks together with ropes. A few moments ago they’d come to him for permission to remove the planks from one of the cabin walls. Orza and two Malaunje boys were still on the roof, feet spread, hands shading their eyes as they searched the horizon for sails.
The boat’s nose slid down a swell into the hollow before the next wave. Sorne felt the water in the hold slide down to the nose of the boat. It was still down there when the prow cut the rise of the next long swell. The nose did not rise enough and cold, green sea water lapped over the sides of the prow. It splashed on the deck, rolling towards him as the nose finally lifted and the boat rose to ride the incline.
The children gave a yelp of fright and began bailing faster.
As the stern of the boat reached the belly of the swell, Sorne felt the weight of the water in the hold weigh it down and the boat battled valiantly to climb the next wave.
‘See anything, Orza?’ Sorne called.
He checked with the other two. ‘Nothing.’
‘Vivane, take the rudder.’
Sorne handed over to him and took the mallet from Vivore. He aimed precise blows along the nail line of each plank on the cabin wall. The boat was old and the nails had rusted, but it didn’t take him long to remove a pile of planks.
Returning the mallet, Sorne felt the boat shudder and water splashed over the nose, running up the deck in a small wave. ‘Hurry up with the raft, boys.’
Vivore nodded and Sorne resumed his place at the rudder. They didn’t have until midday. They didn’t have long at all.
ARAVELLE HERDED ALL the children into the bathing chamber. Some were choice-children and some were the natural children of Charsoria’s inner circle. And they were due to have their hair washed and combed to prevent nits, according to the all-father’s-voice.
‘Right,’ Nariska said. ‘Strip off, then line up.’ She winked at Aravelle. ‘This way their clothes won’t get wet. No point in making work for ourselves.’
The bigger children undressed themselves, but the little ones needed a hand. As Aravelle helped the little ones strip, she chafed at the delay. She was eager to go up to the all-father’s cabin. Voice-of-reason Dragomyr would have reported her transgression to Hueryx by now, and he would have painted it in the worst possible light.
But of course, Charsoria seemed to sense this and had invented a task for her. It was pure spite.
She sent another toddler towards Nariska and reached for the next child.
Each time Aravelle moved, she was reminded of Charsoria. Her right breast was so sore she couldn’t bear material brushing across the nipple. But she wasn’t about to complain, not when so many were nursing injuries from the sea-vermin attack.
Itania was the last child to be stripped. Aravelle reached for her little sister’s nightgown, pulling it over her head. Itania’s curls bounced on her bare shoulders, shoulders covered in bruises. Aravelle lifted her little arms to inspect the bruises, some old and fading some livid on her pale skin.
‘Tani…’ Aravelle moaned.
Her fingers shook with fury as she turned Itania around. There were more bruises on her thighs and buttocks as well. All were situated where they would be hidden under her clothing. Who would…
Charsoria, of course.
So angry that she didn’t trust herself to speak, Aravelle picked up Itania and headed for the cabin.
Nariska jumped in front of her, fingers covered in nit oil. ‘Don’t –’
‘But her bruises.’ Aravelle lifted Itania’s plump little arm. ‘Charsoria –’
Nariska didn’t even glance at the evidence. ‘Don’t give her the satisfaction. The more she knows you care, the more she’ll hurt Itania.’
Aravelle knew she was right. ‘But…’
Nariska held her eyes and slowly rolled up her sleeve. Her upper arms were patterned with new and fading bruises.
Aravelle gasped. ‘It’s not fair.’
‘Who said life was fair?’ Nariska whispered. ‘Come on. If we don’t hurry up, she’ll be angry.’
Aravelle returned to the task, combing the children’s hair. By the time she was done, she was ready to wash the first child. Working as a team, she and Nariska were soon finished.
Still seething, Aravelle returned to the cabin with the children. She could hardly bring herself to look at Charsoria, who sent her off to fetch the grownups’ breakfast.
In the passage, she met Redravia with the remains of the children’s breakfast.
This was her chance. Aravelle blocked the hall, the memory of Itania’s bruises fresh in her mind. ‘You have to help me.’
‘I don’t have to do anything.’
Aravelle knew she’d phrased it badly. ‘I don’t have anyone else to turn to. Charsoria threatened Itania, and she’s already covered in bruises.’
The old woman grimaced. ‘You killed –’
‘That has nothing to do with Itania. She’s only two. Please help.’ She knew she was begging, but she didn’t care. ‘I need you to watch over her while I’m serving the all-father.’
A sly light lit Redravia’s deep-set eyes.
‘What?’ Aravelle asked, warily.
Redravia’s mouth worked. ‘Bring me something infused with the gift, something small that I can wear next to my skin.’
Aravelle hid her disgust. If someone had asked her for help to prevent an injustice she would never have bargained for something in return. ‘Very well.’
‘Something that contains concentrated power is best.’
Aravelle nodded, unable to meet Redravia’s eyes.
‘Don’t look down your nose at me, girlie. When I was young and beautiful, I had a T’En lover. He willingly shared his power with me. I –’
‘Why?’
‘Silly girl. He did it to ensure my absolute loyalty. I was not his devotee, but I was the next best thing.’
‘Where is he now?’ She suspected she knew.
‘Dead. They’re all dead. All those beautiful, bold young men…’ Redravia stared off into space, seeing the faces of long-dead brotherhood warriors, Aravelle suspected. Then the old woman recollected herself. ‘Few T’En warriors live long enough to grow old, and my lover wasn’t one of them. That’s why I need your help. I bathed in his power until it sank into my bones. And now my bones ache. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel hollow and needy. And don’t go thinking you’re so much better than me. One day you could be in my shoes.’
Aravelle bit her lip. Then giggled.
‘What?’ Redravia stiffened.
‘I’m already in your shoes.’ She lifted one foot.
Redravia smiled reluctantly.
‘I’m sorry.’ Aravelle met her eyes. ‘I didn’t know.’
The old woman accepted the apology. ‘Then we’re agreed.’
Aravelle nodded and returned to the cabin.
Itania ran over to her.
Aravelle scooped her up. Kissing her sister’s copper curls, she carried her over to a quiet corner and knelt with the toddler in her arms.
‘Ronnyn’s safe, so’s Vittor and Tamaron, and baby Ashmyr,’ Aravelle whispered fiercely, determined that Itania would not forget her brothers.
‘Tam,’ Itania repeated. They had been close in age and Aravelle knew her little sister missed him most, just as she missed Ronnyn.
A familiar knock at the door made Aravelle’s stomach cramp with anticipation. She carried Itania on one hip as she answered the door.
‘The all-father wants you.’ Saskar gestured to Itania. ‘Put her down and come now.’
Aravelle spotted Redravia coming up the passage and waited for the old woman.
Redravia held Aravelle’s eyes as she accepted Itania.
Aravelle nodded once. She wouldn’t forget. And now that she knew, she would be doubly careful to maintain her defences against the T’En gift.
When the cabin door closed on Redravia, Aravelle joined Saskar in the dim hall.
‘What happened last night?’ he asked. ‘Dragomyr is trying to convince Hueryx you’re a sisterhood spy.’
Aravelle laughed.
‘Vella!’ He took her shoulders in his hands. ‘If the all-father doubts your loyalty, he’ll have you executed in a heartbeat.’
Her stomach knotted. She had no loyalty to Hueryx. Her only loyalty was to her family.
Saskar looked so concerned for her she felt annoyed, which just proved she wasn’t a very nice person. She slipped out from under his hands. ‘Don’t worry. Hueryx won’t be angry when he hears who visited me.’
‘Now you’ve got me curious.’
‘You’ll just have to wait,’ she said over her shoulder, darting down the hall.
Inside the all-father’s cabin, a single lantern illuminated the gloom. The windows were all covered with temporary shutters, and the cabin was filled with Hueryx’s inner circle.
Aravelle dropped to her knees and gave the correct obeisance. ‘You sent for me, all-father.’
‘My voice-of-reason tells me when our ship came alongside the causare’s, you had visitors and one was a sisterhood initiate?’
‘It wasn’t a sisterhood initiate.’ She threw Dragomyr a contemptuous look. ‘It was Sardeon, All-father Paragian’s son.’
‘If Paragian’s son was one of them, who was the other?’ Hueryx asked. His sharp eyes told her he’d already guessed.
‘Ronnyn. He came to check up on Itania and me.’
‘How dare he enter brotherhood territory without permission?’ Dragomyr muttered, but Hueryx grinned, as she knew he would.
‘So what was Paragian’s son doing here, in our brotherhood cabin?’ the hand-of-force demanded.
‘Sardeon was Ronnyn’s lookout.’
Hueryx gave a bark of laughter. ‘My son is ordering Paragian’s son about? This is priceless!’
Sanctuary Page 45
