by Jaine Fenn
He decided to take his needle-pistol, rather than just relying on tranq, and the answer came to him as he strapped on the holster. ‘We need to hook up an alternative power source,’ he announced as he re-emerged from his cabin. ‘A fusion plant would do it—’
‘—and there’s one of those on the Setting Sun,’ finished Nual.
‘Precisely.’
They made their way down the exit corridor into the Heart of Glass’s personnel airlock. As the door closed, Jarek said to Nual, ‘I’m guessing you’d have told me if there was anyone aboard.’
‘You’re correct: there are no conscious minds on the Setting Sun.’
‘Good. Then let’s go.’
The readouts were all glowing a cheery green. The door opened onto a familiar corridor, dimly lit by hazard lighting.
‘So, we gonna go check out the engine room?’ asked Taro.
‘Yeah . . .’
‘You don’t sound sure,’ said Nual.
Jarek had been thinking about his nascent plan to mesh two very different systems, one of them a fusion reactor. Having the full specs was a necessary starting point, but he was only a passable engineer, while Taro and Nual were total novices. And you only had to make one mistake with a fusion reactor . . .
‘I’m certain that connecting the Setting Sun’s power supply up to the point-defences is a good idea,’ he said, ‘but I think we might need some help to do it.’
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Ifanna told Escori Garnon what she had experienced – or rather, not experienced – whilst in the Cariad’s presence, then Gwas Maelgyn asked her to wait outside the room while he spoke to his master. They had not said she should remain standing, so she sat on the top step, careful not to look at the man at the bottom of the stairs who lounged against the wall, his crossbow propped up beside him. She could not hear much through the thick wooden door. Just as her eyelids were beginning to droop, the door opened and she jumped to her feet as Maelgyn came out, looking serious.
‘Is all well, Gwas?’ she asked nervously.
He favoured her with a smile. ‘I believe it will be, chilwar.’ He led her out of the tavern and back to the shuttered house, and this time, though Ifanna tried to find the courage to ask him what he intended – and more specifically, how she fitted in with his plan – he walked in silence. He had the air of a man holding fast to a secret. But when they reached the house, he bade her goodnight with the same tenderness he had shown when he had first helped her in the alley, and she was glad she had not asked, for to do so would be to doubt him.
Before she went to bed, she dragged the crib from the bedroom into the smaller room. That night she slept soundly.
Gwas Maelgyn had said only that he would be back, not when, so when she awoke the next day she fetched water for herself, keeping a look-out to ensure she was not observed, and put some lentils on to soak. As she washed, she quietly rejoiced at the change in her fortunes: she had arrived in the city expecting to die and be damned here; even the prospect of becoming a slave to the desire of strangers had been an attractive one compared to that.
Yet now, a mere three days later, not only was she no longer in fear for her life she was both free and under the protection of an important man, a man who valued her. She only wished Gwas Maelgyn would speak of the future, for though she was happy here, Ifanna knew she could not stay in this house forever.
She ate when noon came; she needed to look after herself, now that her life had turned around. She said a prayer of thanks over the food, but aside from that, she barely considered the Skymothers; her former deep devotion belonged to her old life.
Feeling restless after her meal, she wandered from room to room. She came across a sampler-frame, tucked under one of the seats in the parlour, and took the embroidery upstairs, where she risked opening the shutters a crack to let in some light, though she was careful to sit back from the window so she could not be seen. The half-finished design showed birds and animals in a ring around a figure who, though incomplete, was recognisable as Turiach, in her guise of Hearth-Mother. Ifanna spent a while trying to carry on where the dead seamstress had left off, concentrating on the flowers, but her stitching was clumsy, and she soon put the sampler down and stared out at the view of blue rooftops and bluer sky. Her lack of such homely skills had always been a disappointment to her mother.
Maelgyn came as the shadows were beginning to lengthen, identifying himself with his usual knock. Ifanna nearly tripped in her haste to let him in.
As soon as she closed the door behind him he said, ‘You should gather what possessions you wish to take from here, chilwar. We feel it prudent to move you to different accommodation.’
‘Is this the will of your Escori, Gwas?’ She was not sure how she felt about coming to the attention of such an important man. Flattered, aye, but also anxious.
‘We reached that decision after some discussion,’ he said sagely.
‘I will fetch clothes,’ she said. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she grabbed a couple of skirts and blouses, the first that came to hand, and tied them into a bundle.
As he ushered her out, Maelgyn paused to put the latch down, and Ifanna experienced a brief moment of uncertainty to be leaving her sanctuary. But her unease quickly gave way to elation. She only had to look at Maelgyn’s face to know that something glorious was afoot. This time she did not wait for permission to take his arm; he made no comment at her presumption, and even briefly covered her hand with his own.
They took a different route, though it also led to a tavern, this one small and genteel; its true nature was not apparent at first for the handful of old men in the main room appeared to prefer tea to beer, though they still watched her curiously when Maelgyn went up to talk to the red-cheeked matron who ran the place. After a few moments, Maelgyn came back and led Ifanna through a side exit and up some stairs to a short corridor. He opened the second door on the left, and Ifanna found herself in a small, neat room containing a bed, a storage chest, a chair and a washstand.
As Maelgyn closed the door her curiosity got the better of her. ‘Gwas, please, what is going on?’ she asked.
‘Great things, chilwar,’ he told her with a gentle smile, ‘great things. You will know more in good time, but I will say this now: all my life I have been denied the chances I deserved, but finally – finally! – this is changing.’
‘Because of your Escori?’
‘Aye. Garnon is a good man – a great man! – but even he cannot be expected to acknowledge everyone who answers to him individually, no matter how loyal and hard-working they may be. Yet now . . . now everything will change. And we – you and I – are at the heart of that change.’
His words lit a fire inside Ifanna, and she had a sudden, ridiculous desire to throw her arms around the priest. She resisted it, and instead said earnestly, ‘Just tell me what I must do.’
‘For now, wait here. I will return when I can.’ He turned to go, then paused. ‘Have you eaten today?’
‘Some lentils earlier . . .’
‘I will arrange to have food sent up: Mistress Dorwena can be trusted. For now I must return to the Tyr.’
And with that, he was gone.
The owner brought thick soup and black bread to her door soon after. The woman made no conversation, but gave Ifanna a smile. Though the food was good, as Ifanna ate her joy subsided. If only she could know what was going on in the Tyr! Her thoughts turned to the Cariad – or rather, to the woman who wrongly claimed that title. Ifanna felt a growing ire at having humiliated herself so in front of a false goddess.
When night fell Mistress Dorwena brought a taper to light the lamps; from the noise when she opened the door, the bar below had livened up somewhat. Ifanna kept the shutters open for a while, but the light attracted nightbugs, so she closed them.
Finally she lay down on the bed and slipped into a dream of swimming in the river at Nantgwyn, the water cool on her naked body. The riverbank was lined with priests, all of whom looked on s
ilently, appraising her. She felt no shame, only a wicked joy.
A sudden noise startled her awake, and even as her heart leapt into her mouth she recognised the priest’s characteristic knock. ‘Come in, Gwas,’ she called, rubbing her eyes.
Maelgyn entered in a flurry, closing the door quickly behind him.
Ifanna looked at his face and sat up rapidly. ‘Gwas, what is wrong?’ she asked, her heart hammering.
‘We have been betrayed,’ he said grimly.
‘Betrayed?’ Her heart rate redoubled. ‘Who has betrayed us?’
‘Captain Siarl was taken, and now it is only a matter of time before the Tyr’s inquirers discover all he knows.’
‘And what— What does he know?’
‘Very little, thank the Five, but he knows my name, and yours too. Urien will send men to the shuttered house – perhaps they have already searched it! Escori Garnon was right to tell me to move you! But now I am implicated, too. I cannot return to the Tyr—’
‘Then run away with me!’ Even as the words left her lips Ifanna was amazed at herself.
As was Gwas Maelgyn. ‘Run away? With you?’
Before she could lose her nerve Ifanna continued, ‘Aye, Gwas – I am a fugitive already, and now you are too. We could go—’
‘Go where?’ His voice was ragged, desperate.
‘I will follow wherever you lead,’ she replied at once.
For a moment Maelgyn was silent. Finally he said, ‘You would do that – leave with me?’
‘Aye, Gwas.’
Something passed through him; despite his priestly immunity Ifanna sensed how deeply her offer had moved him. Then he said, ‘I need a drink. To calm my nerves.’ He turned and walked out again, his back stiff and upright.
Ifanna stared at the door, her mind in turmoil. She was sure he felt as she did! Yet it was almost as though he was running away from her. She began to wonder if he would actually come back; and if he did not, what would she do?
Her heart leapt when he returned, bringing a flagon and two cups.
As he kicked the door closed behind him he asked, ‘Will you drag over that chest please, chilwar?’ His voice was high and brittle.
Ifanna got up and did as he asked; the chest was empty, and not very heavy. Maelgyn put the flagon and cups on its flat top, then brought over the chair. Ifanna sat across from him, on the bed. She forced herself to stay silent while he poured drinks for them both. The wine was the best Ifanna had ever tasted, though she had no great affection for its effects, and she sipped hers while Maelgyn gulped his down and refilled his cup.
‘I will not run away,’ he said finally, his voice full of the bravado of drink. ‘No. That is not how it will be, however much— For now, we are safe here. In the long run Escori Garnon will protect us. And when the time comes, we will make our move.’
She knew better than to ask what he meant; Maelgyn obviously had a plan, and he was supported in this by his master, so that must be enough for her, for now. But she did ask softly, ‘And when will that time be, do you know?’
‘I do not.’ Maelgyn drank again.
‘So until then, you will stay here?’ Something had changed between them; there had been an unspoken shift of power.
He felt it too. ‘Aye,’ he whispered.
Ifanna looked into his eyes as she asked, ‘With me?’
His voice was barely audible when he replied. ‘Aye. With you.’
She sensed it then, priest or no: she saw herself as he saw her – as a goddess.
Even as she put down her drink and got to her feet she felt a brief flash of contempt: she was so much stronger than him! But her doubts were easily drowned in the wonder of being seen as an object of worship . . . and in darker, baser feelings she could no longer deny.
He watched her step up to him, holding his cup as though it were some talisman against her – against what they both felt. She reached out, and when he did not at first respond she drew his head towards her, pulling him to her belly. A shudder went through him, and she felt the word he breathed against her.
‘No . . .’
As he exhaled, she took a breath in, swallowing the last of his resistance as she did so. Her whole body throbbed now, and he had no choice save to dance to the rhythm of it.
The cup slipped from his hand.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Despite everything, Kerin ended up dozing at the console. Damaru, concluding he stood little chance of playing with the technology while his mother sat beside it, went and lay down on his bed.
Urien left on an errand of his own before Sais called back to say he would be coming to help – accompanied by the Sidhe he claimed as a friend.
After that conversation she was briefly angry again: it appeared that the lessons this long night had to teach her were not yet done. But she calmed down, after a period of reflection; if there truly was a Sidhe on their side that could change everything, and for the better. And if this ‘Nual’ was not a true ally, then all was already lost. For now, Kerin had no choice other than to trust her husband’s judgment.
When the tally-candle began to burn low Kerin found herself relaxing, despite the uncertainty; though noisome memories from the dungeon tried to intrude on her inner view, she made herself ignore them. She suspected such images would disturb her dreams for a long time.
‘Kerin?’
At first she assumed it was Urien returning, and she had missed his knock. Then she realised the voice came from below her drooping head. She snapped upright.
The text on the screen had been replaced by a view of Sais’ head and shoulders. ‘I was worried for a moment there,’ he said.
‘I was just resting.’
‘Uh, yes, sorry – I forgot what time it was.’
‘No matter. Have you reached the Setting Sun safely?’
‘We have, and we’ve been assessing the situation. We have a solution to the problem with the point-defences, but it’s complicated.’ She remembered that look; he was about to tell her something she would rather not hear.
She sighed. Whether she liked it or not, she would know the full story. ‘Explain, please.’
Kerin could not pretend to understand everything he said, and she was sure he was giving her the simplified version. No doubt her own attempts to describe the wonders of Dinas Emrys to a villager from Dangwern would sound equally patronising. But she did grasp two things at once: that the solution needed to be applied quickly, and that it would require Damaru’s help. Her first instinct was to refuse, especially when Sais explained what could happen if the source of the power they needed was not handled carefully.
‘I don’t want to take any chances,’ he concluded, ‘not when I can have a miracle-worker to back me up.’
Kerin knew this for fact, not flattery. He did have skyfools up there, lying in the deep sleep the Sidhe put them in to transport them. But those boys would never cooperate with a stranger who brought them to consciousness in an unfamiliar place. In their panic, they might even employ their powers, with potentially disastrous consequences.
‘If that is the only way, then I agree,’ she said at last, ‘and I will come with him.’
‘I was taking that as read. As for how you’ll get up here . . .’
Kerin had assumed she and Damaru would need to ascend the silver thread, though that was likely to alarm anyone who witnessed the carousel’s unscheduled ascent, but Sais told her this would not work – it would take too long, and the lack of power at the top meant the carousel might not be able to safely enter the transfer-station. He did have an alternative plan, which required the cover of night . . .
After Sais finished the call, Kerin hurried over and woke Damaru. She was not sure how well she explained what Sais needed him to do, but once she had stressed the new and interesting technology he would have the chance to investigate he was happy to help.
She called for Urien, who arrived soon after she changed back out of the Cariad’s robes. He was considerably less enthusiasti
c than Damaru about the plan, but he had to agree with Sais’ logic.
‘The console will remain active,’ Kerin told him. ‘You need only select the option to make a call, and Sais or I will answer.’ She took Urien through the basic operation, just as Sais had done for her, what felt like a lifetime ago.
‘Is it essential that I stay here?’ he asked. ‘I was beginning to make progress following up the late Captain Siarl’s associates.’
She should have known better than to believe he would spend any of the night actually sleeping. ‘It would be best for you to remain at the console for the time being; Sais says it is possible that some action may be required down here in addition to what we must do above.’
Sais would call when he got nearer; until then she had time to find out what Urien had uncovered. ‘Should we be concerned about these potential rebels?’ she asked.
‘I have the name of the captain’s associate; as I suspected, it is the Fenland priest. He is a mid-level administrator, competent enough in matters of record-keeping, but otherwise unremarkable. He works in the division that deals with correspondence from the provinces. It appears that he was the priest who first saw the letter requesting that the second girl be judged by the Cariad – I say “appears” because that letter has conveniently disappeared. I cannot think that a born bureaucrat like Maelgyn would be so careless as to lose such an important document accidentally.’
‘Which backs up his guilt. Will you have him detained?’
‘I intend to issue a warrant for his arrest, when I have the time. To be honest, I rather hope he runs. Trying a priest for sedition on such flimsy evidence would be complicated, and potentially disruptive. I have sent men to the house where the escaped witch may be hiding; her testimony could be enough to condemn him. Not that I am likely to hear much news while I am cut off from the rest of the Tyr guarding your console,’ he added, a little grumpily.
‘I know,’ she said sympathetically. ‘That is one of the matters I intend to raise with Sais: I know he has portable devices which can speak to each other at a distance. Perhaps he can give us some of them.’
