Sanctuary

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  ‘I am curious,’ Merchant Sahia said, joining him. ‘Why did the causare send a Malaunje as her ambassador? Don’t the T’En rank higher than halfbloods in T’En society?’

  ‘Yes, but this halfblood has lived amongst True-men for many years. As the Warrior’s-voice, I served King Charald.’ Who would have taken one look at this port and thought he could crack it wide open. Did the Ivernians believe that because theirs was an island kingdom, they were safe from invasion? Perhaps they had been, so far. There was no Ivernian king, just a number of provinces, each ruled by a city-state. This was the Sagoras’ province. ‘But now I serve the causare. She believes that True-men and women will be more comfortable with a Malaunje who is used to their ways.’

  As he spoke, he searched the ships anchored in the bay for the distinctive blunt-nosed profile and segemented sails of the T’Enatuath ships, but did not see them. He had beaten Imoshen’s fleet to port.

  ‘So you know the ways of True-men. But do you know the ways of the Sagoras, ambassador?’

  ‘I know your people came from across the Endless Ocean over three hundred years ago, on one ship containing seven families, or “houses,” as you call them. Starting with almost nothing, you built that.’ He pointed to the sandstone edifice that ran along the crest of a ridge behind the port. ‘The Halls of Learning are renowned across the Secluded Sea. The greatest scholars come here to study, experiment, debate their findings and teach. If they’re clever enough, the poorest child can win a scholarship and study alongside future kings and queens. All they need is a true love of learning.’ Sorne smiled. ‘In truth, I know very little about the Sagoras themselves, other than that they live segregated lives in the hidden city, at the southern end of the Halls of Learning, and guard their privacy closely.’

  ‘And what makes you think the Sagoras would offer the T’Enatuath sanctuary?’

  ‘Two things. Like you, we have fled persecution.’

  ‘Who says we fled persecution?’

  ‘You sailed across the Endless Ocean in a single ship that sank just off the west coast of Ivernia. You must have been desperate to make the journey; no other ships have succeeded in the three hundred years since.’

  ‘And the other thing?’

  ‘Like my people, you value knowledge.’ When he saw her smile, he suspected he had fallen into a trap.

  ‘You say scholars come from all the mainland kingdoms to study with us. What possible knowledge could the T’Enatuath have that we do not already have?’

  ‘That is something I must discuss with the Sagora Seven,’ Sorne said, wondering just what Imoshen planned to offer. Hopefully, he could delay until her ship arrived.

  The merchant ship dropped anchor, and the sailors prepared to lower a boat.

  ‘I’m going to report to the Sagora Seven right now. Come with me, Ambassador Sorne. I’m sure they will be fascinated to meet the halfblood who served the Mieren king and now serves Causare T’Imoshen.’

  ‘I would be delighted.’ Sorne hesitated. ‘But the children… They saw their friends and families massacred. They had lost all hope when I found them. They’ll panic if they see me go.’

  ‘Then we will have to make sure they don’t see.’

  Sorne swallowed and turned to her. ‘Do I have your word that they will be safe until I return?’

  Now she hesitated. ‘It would have been much easier for you to escape alone. Yet you didn’t.’

  ‘I couldn’t live with myself if I had left them there.’

  ‘Yet there must be other Wyrd children in other Mieren cellars.’

  ‘The world is full of injustice,’ he acknowledged. ‘I had the chance to save these children.’

  ‘And they call you the Butcher of Maygharia.’

  Sorne laughed.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  IMOSHEN WAITED FOR Reoden on the high rear-deck. It was time to confront the healer about her scryer. Unnerved by the thought, Imoshen checked the spiced wine she had prepared. Behind the ship, their wake spread out across the swells of the rolling sea, gleaming in the moons’ light. This time last night they had been fighting for their lives.

  ‘You sent for me,’ the healer said.

  Imoshen turned. Hopefully, they would come out of this with their friendship still intact. She studied Reoden’s familiar face. The healer’s features were close to the T’En ideal of beauty: long nose, strong jaw, high cheekbones. But Imoshen saw past the beauty to her dear friend and lover, who seemed fragile today.

  Not surprising, considering.

  ‘You look tired, Ree. Is something bothering you?’ Tell me about your scryer. Ask for my help. I don’t want to back you into a corner.

  The healer shrugged. ‘More than a dozen of my people were injured and I was still working with the burn victims from the first night we were attacked.’

  Imoshen poured two glasses of spiced wine and offered one to the healer. ‘After everything you’ve been through, you need this.’

  Reoden accepted hers and sipped. ‘Hmmm, citrus peel. I like your mix, Imoshen.’

  ‘Ree, I know you prize healing above all else –’

  ‘But there’s never enough of me to go around. I haven’t had a chance to work on Ronnyn since we left Shifting-sands Bay, and I know his crippled arm still gives him pain.’

  It was typical of Reoden to worry about others. Imoshen gave up being subtle and came straight to the point. ‘Sarodyti’s dead. Lysi should have died with her, yet she still lives. She’s suffering from gift-corruption. What have you done with her, Ree?’

  ‘That’s what this is about?’ Reoden put her wine cup aside. ‘Lysi’s being cared for where she cannot infect other T’En. Don’t worry.’

  ‘So you also believe it can be communicated?’

  ‘When it gets this bad.’

  ‘How can you be sure she won’t infect others?’

  Reoden’s gaze shifted ever so slightly.

  Imoshen pounced. ‘You can’t be sure. With two sisterhoods packed onto one ship, we can’t risk contamination. As her all-mother, it’s your duty to see that she cannot infect others. If she was in her right mind, she would agree. As it is, her gift is out of her control. Seeing the futures… think how frightening it must be. It’s your duty to ensure she no longer suffers.’

  ‘She’s unconscious.’

  ‘Good.’ Imoshen drew breath. Now came the tricky part. Had the healer made the connection, or was she too close to see what was going on? ‘How is it that Lysi still lives, Ree?’

  The healer looked down.

  ‘Ree, you haven’t been –’

  ‘No. I don’t have the power to spare to sustain her.’

  ‘But she’s one of your inner circle. You share a deep sisterhood link.’ Imoshen caught her friend’s hand. ‘Ree, she’s draining you of your healing power to stay alive. That’s why you’re so tired.’

  ‘She’s not conscious.’

  ‘It’s instinctive. Her gift may be corrupted, but it will live as long as she does. Ree, I don’t want to see you corrupted…’ The healer would have broken away, but Imoshen refused to let go. ‘No, hear me out. Your gift shapes the way you think, the ability to heal defines you. If your gift is being drained and subtly corrupted through the sisterhood link, how do you know you can trust your own judgement?’

  ‘I’m not corrupted. Test me and see. I’ll drop my walls.’

  ‘Both our gift-tutors are dead.’

  ‘You’ll know. You’ll feel it.’ Reoden caught Imoshen’s face in her hands and kissed her, dropping her defences.

  Skin on skin, lips to lips was the quickest and surest way to communicate gift to gift, but they had been lovers, and her body recognised Reoden’s on this level. The warmth of desire pooled in Imoshen’s belly. At the same time, she savoured the purity of the healer’s gift and her own gift rose in response. If only…

  Reoden pulled back, a half smile tugging at her lips. ‘You’re supposed to be testing my gift, not trying to seduce me.’


  Imoshen blushed. She had to take a step back to gather her thoughts.

  ‘Is my gift pure?’ Reoden asked.

  ‘Pure and perfect.’

  ‘Then –’

  ‘For now,’ Imoshen admitted. ‘But the scryer is linked to you. She’s not going to fade away and die, not while you live. And it’s only a matter of time before she corrupts you.’

  ‘I swore an oath to protect Lysi. I cannot kill her.’ Reoden’s beautiful wine-dark eyes grew brilliant with determination. ‘I cannot kill anyone, my gift won’t let me, and I’m glad of it!’

  ‘I know, Ree.’ It was part of why she loved her. ‘But I can kill.’

  ‘Imoshen…’ Reoden took a step back.

  ‘Would you let her suffer? Would you see the whole ship go mad with gift corruption?’

  ‘I can’t ask this of you.’

  ‘You don’t have to ask.’

  ‘Oh, Imoshen.’

  ‘It must be done, and the sooner the better.’

  ‘Then let it be tonight.’ Reoden’s voice broke on the last word.

  ‘Tonight,’ Imoshen agreed. ‘Up here, out in the open.’ Where the lingering gift-corruption would be blown away by the wind.

  ‘I don’t know how you can do this,’ Reoden whispered.

  ‘I do it because I must.’ Imoshen searched her friend’s face, afraid Reoden would despise her.

  But she didn’t.

  Not yet, anyway.

  ‘I CLAIM THE sisterhood.’ Ronnyn revealed his cards. ‘I have the all-mother, the voice-of-reason, two gift-warriors and a gift-empowerer.’

  ‘Not so quick,’ Sardeon challenged. ‘I have the hand-of-force, a gift-tutor, two gift-warriors and a wild-card raedan. She can become an all-mother, so I think we’re even.’

  ‘How does this game differ in the brotherhood? Are there powerful gifts amongst the males that…’ Ronnyn ran down as he saw Sardeon’s expression. ‘Don’t worry. Now that our gifts have surfaced, we’ll be empowered soon and begin training. We’ll make our fathers proud.’

  ‘I wish I was like the others. I wish I didn’t know who my father was.’

  ‘You’re worried you won’t be able to live up to his reputation,’ Ronnyn guessed. Although he didn’t feel he owed All-father Hueryx anything, he still felt the pressure. ‘I’m in the same boat.’

  ‘There’s more to it.’ Sardeon glanced around the empowered lads’ cabin and lowered his voice. ‘Once we join the brotherhood, if someone challenges our all-father and wins, the new all-father will execute us. They can’t afford to let us live long enough to grow into our gifts and avenge our fathers’ deaths.’ He shrugged. ‘If our fathers truly loved us, they wouldn’t have claimed us. They only claimed us to shore up their leadership. With our loyalty, they gain the loyalty of the next generation of initiates. That way they can hold onto the leadership for thirty or forty years instead of fifteen or twenty.’

  Ronnyn’s mind reeled as he ran through the ramifications.

  ‘Boys?’ The hand-of-force beckoned them. ‘I need you to help Ree’s devotee look after the children while the rest of us are at a ceremony.’

  ‘What ceremony?’ Ronnyn asked.

  ‘Scryer Lysitzi’s farewell.’

  ‘She’s dead?’ Ronnyn was aware of a rush of relief.

  There was the barest hesitation. ‘Yes. Now go help Meleya.’

  When they reached the cabin door, Vittor let them in.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said and gestured to the pile of sleeping toddlers. ‘All day long I’m surrounded by little boys. It’s driving me crazy. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Well…’ Ronnyn thought quickly. ‘How about I teach you to play cards?’

  ‘I can already play cards,’ Vittor insisted. ‘I’m good at it.’

  ‘This isn’t the memory game we used to play back home. It’s a grownup card game, about forming sisterhoods and brotherhoods.’

  Vittor’s eyes widened. ‘I’d like that.’

  Ronnyn grinned. ‘Sardeon will explain the rules, and I’ll get the cards.’

  While crossing the cabin, Ronnyn paused beside the devotee. Ashmyr dozed in her arms; Ronnyn cupped his baby brother’s soft head. Then he left for the empowered lads’ cabin.

  As much as Ronnyn resented being separated from their sisters, he knew his family couldn’t survive on their own. The deaths of his parents had proved that.

  When he retrieved the cards, it struck him that this set wasn’t as fine as the cards his father had painted. His Da had been a manuscript illuminator, who gave up his high stature to run away with his mother and live like the poorest Mieren on their island. Back then, Ronnyn had just accepted the exquisitely-painted cards and delightful carved toys as normal. Now he knew they were as good as, or better than, the ones the sisterhood’s children played with.

  No, they were better. Asher had made them with love for his family.

  Ronnyn felt like something had hit his chest.

  ‘You all right?’ one of the empowered lads asked.

  He nodded and ducked into the passage, where he leant against the wall, dragging in great gulps of air.

  They’d left Da’s body on the beach for the wild dogs to devour.

  Ronnyn thrust open the door and staggered out onto the deck. Some instinct for self-preservation prompted him to dart under the steep steps to the foredeck.

  There he gasped and bent double. What was wrong with him?

  He had to hang onto the steps and drag in one breath after another.

  Gradually, his breathing slowed and his vision cleared. Before him, through the steps, he saw the women of Reoden’s sisterhood gathered around the Malaunje hatch as the scryer’s body was brought up from below.

  Poor thing. Just as well she was dead.

  When they carried her past his choice-mother, one of the scryer’s hands reached out for Reoden.

  She was alive? They were going to throw the scryer overboard alive? They’d never…

  But he recalled Cerafeoni’s slight hesitation when he’d asked if the scryer was dead. They wouldn’t throw her overboard alive. They’d kill her first, then farewell her, the practical part of his mind told him.

  Outrage reverberated through him. His gift surged; he wanted to accuse them of savagery.

  At the same time, he was torn. It was not that simple. Her gift had corrupted. It was dangerous. But…

  To kill her?

  Sardeon would help him make sense of what was happening. Clasping the cards in one hand, he ran back to the cabin, where he found the devotee singing to a fractious toddler.

  Meleya and Sardeon both looked at him, startled by his abrupt arrival. The devotee lifted her finger to her lips.

  Ronnyn caught Sardeon’s eye. They needed to talk. He picked his path carefully through sleeping toddlers.

  But Vittor had also been waiting. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Ronnyn thrust the cards into his brother’s hands. He didn’t want to trouble Vittor with what he’d seen, so he said the first thing that came to him. ‘These cards reminded me of Da.’

  Vittor’s eyes widened as he stared at the cards.

  Remorse made Ronnyn drop to his knees and hug his little brother. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have –’

  ‘No. I want to remember.’ Anger lit Vittor’s dark eyes and hardened his little mouth. ‘Da didn’t deserve to die that way. I should have –’

  ‘There was nothing you could do. Nothing any of us could do.’ And as Ronnyn said this, he felt the truth of it, bone-deep. He hadn’t failed his father, or his family.

  Ronnyn hugged Vittor again. ‘Go to the desk and shuffle the cards. I’ll be over in a moment.’

  While Vittor did as he was told, Ronnyn stood up and met Sardeon’s eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ his choice-brother whispered.

  Ronnyn led him to the bunk under the window. He sat, leaned one arm on the window frame and stared out. Stars filled the night sky.

  ‘The scryer’s
not dead,’ Ronnyn whispered.

  Sardeon’s lips compressed in a grim line. He didn’t appear surprised. Saddened, but not shocked.

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘I suspected. They try to keep the truth from us, but power comes at a price.’

  ‘So they’re going to kill the scryer –’

  ‘To prevent the gift-corruption spreading.’

  Ronnyn rubbed a shaking hand across his mouth. He could feel his gift churning in his belly, urging him to action. Last time, it had snuck under his guard and driven him to do things that had shamed him. This time he would not let it ride him.

  Sardeon put his hand on Ronnyn’s shoulders. ‘Sometimes, the right thing can seem wrong.’

  ‘I’m not a child.’ Ronnyn met his eyes. ‘I’ve killed… we’ve both killed to defend the ship. But this is different.’

  Sardeon nodded. ‘Back then there was no choice. This is deliberate.’

  Ronnyn felt betrayed. As if he’d found a safe harbour, only to discover it filled with hidden rocks.

  Meleya joined them. ‘What’s wrong, boys?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Sardeon said.

  The devotee was not fooled, but she didn’t press the issue.

  ‘You have good hearts,’ she said and went to kiss Sardeon on the forehead, but pulled back. She did the same with Ronnyn. And he knew their gifts made her uncomfortable.

  Too bad. This was what he wanted. More than that, it was what he needed, if he was to survive in the brotherhood.

  The devotee returned to the little ones, while Ronnyn and Sardeon taught Vittor how to play the sisterhood card game. It was preparation for real life, when they would be forming alliances to increase their stature and power with the ultimate goal of winning a brotherhood.

  But neither of them would get the chance, if Hueryx and Paragian lost control of their brotherhoods. Their futures were tied to the all-fathers’. He hoped Hueryx was as cunning as the sisters claimed, and Paragian as well-loved.

  Chapter Forty-Six