Bringer of Light

by Jaine Fenn

  There was a short pause. Then, ‘Holy shit! Are you sure you’ve got this right? No offence, but you’re not a spacer—’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she said caustically, ‘but I “knew” someone who was, and I know exactly how to use the instruments on this ship.’

  ‘Ah, yeah, I guess you do. Sorry, Nual. But those coordinates put them inside the defence grid!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So how the hell did—?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea. They’re coming in on a totally unexpected vector. But it looks like they will be here in less than two hours. And they’re in a big ship – a lot larger than the Setting Sun.’

  ‘Right, I’m coming up to the bridge. I’ll com Taro.’

  Jarek arrived with Kerin in tow. ‘I guess the point-defences will have to wait,’ he said grimly, ‘we need to get the defence grid working and destroy that ship.’ He turned to Nual. ‘Earlier you said something about the weapons being controlled from something called a cold-start console – have you managed to find out any more about that?’

  ‘I have,’ she said. ‘It’s not exactly a console; it’s more a stand-alone comp. I think it’s a failsafe, in case a Cariad goes rogue. An incoming ship can transmit a code to this comp from outside the range of the defences, and once that code is verified, the comp sends out a signal which takes the grid completely offline. Nothing the Cariad can do from below – or any later incoming ship can do from above – will have any effect on the defences.’

  ‘So how do we get them working again – I assume it is possible to reactivate them?’

  ‘It is. Someone needs to enter the correct counter-code into the cold-start console, which then transmits the reset signal to the defence grid to reactivate it.’

  ‘That sounds simple enough – assuming we have the code.’

  ‘That’s the first problem: it looks like the reactivation code is also the shut-down code: the defence grid can only be reactivated by the code that shut it down. And whilst the Setting Sun would have had a valid shut-down code, once the Sidhe knew the ship was lost, they will have come up with a new set of codes, which we don’t have.’

  ‘We don’t know that—’ Jarek broke off as Taro and Damaru arrived and the boy went straight over to his mother, muttering something inaudible. Taro moved to stand next to Nual, who was relieved he didn’t kiss her like he usually did; Kerin’s already healthy distrust of the Sidhe would only increase if she discovered that Nual had a human lover.

  Taro said, ‘Sorry we’re late. What’d we miss?’

  Jarek recapped. It sounded even worse, second time around.

  Taro gave a taut grin and said, ‘I guess we can’t just run away?’

  ‘No,’ said Jarek, ‘we can’t. Even if I were willing to give up control of the beanstalk without a fight – which I’m not – they’re going to come after us and kill us anyway.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he said. ‘Just had to ask. We gotta understand all our options!’

  Jarek said, ‘We should try to find the original code in the Setting Sun’s files.’

  ‘It’s worth a try,’ said Nual, though she was not sure it was.

  ‘But if that don’t work, I guess we’ll need to, like, hack this cold-start console?’ asked Taro.

  In the brief silence that followed, all eyes turned to Damaru.

  Kerin said softly to him, ‘Were you listening to that, my lovely boy? Do you understand what we wish you to do?’

  ‘Kerin.’

  When Kerin looked up at her interruption, Nual felt the full force of her distrust and barely restrained loathing. She tried to ignore it, and continued, ‘Kerin, you’re right that we need Damaru to do this, but you need to be aware of the other problem.’

  ‘What other problem?’ asked Kerin carefully.

  ‘The location of the cold-start console: it is on the outside of the transfer-station.’

  ‘Outside as in, in space?’ she asked, swallowing.

  ‘Yes,’ said Nual. ‘A rogue Cariad would have access to machine empaths like Damaru, who could hack the codes for her. What she would not have is a v-suit. She couldn’t access the cold-start console.’

  Kerin looked at Jarek. ‘Sais, you have told me that what is outside here will kill us. I know you have those special suits, but even so, I would not wish to put my son in such danger.’

  ‘Neither would I, ideally,’ said Jarek, ‘but I can’t see any alternative. And he wouldn’t be alone: I’d go with him.’

  ‘Is there really no other option?’ Kerin was deeply conflicted: Nual sensed that she feared for her child, but also acknowledged that he might be their only hope.

  There was a warning trill and Nual looked down at the new message.

  Finally Jarek broke the anxious silence. ‘Please tell me that’s good news.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ she murmured, ‘but it isn’t.’ More loudly, she continued, ‘The Sidhe ship has launched a fast shuttle and it is already drawing ahead of the main ship. Whatever we are going to do, we have to hurry.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Maelgyn was reticent at first, but Ifanna knew his heart; she had only to persuade him to follow it. She thought he murmured something that sounded like, ‘This time it will be perfect—’ but then he surrendered to her fully, and words were no longer needed.

  As they were joined, Ifanna sensed the glorious truth: she was not only his goddess; if his plan came to fruition, she would be everyone’s goddess. Here was a wonder undreamt of, and it redoubled her passion for him. She began to wonder if what she was feeling was worthy of the word ‘love’ – whether it was or no, she knew now that she had a greater destiny than she could ever have hoped.

  Afterwards, he turned away from her without a word. She touched his shoulder and he flinched, shaking her off, but he did not tell her to go, and she took comfort in that. She lay stretched out next to him on the narrow bed, tight against the chilly wall on one side, but touching warm flesh at hip and shoulder on the other. Her wounded side pained her, and her mind was in turmoil, but eventually, she slept.

  She awoke to hear Maelgyn call out nervously, ‘Who is it?’

  The voice at the door was muffled. ‘I have a message from the only true Escori.’

  She felt Maelgyn relax at the man’s words. ‘Wait a moment, please!’ He threw himself from the bed, flinging the covers back over her, then hurried over to his discarded undershirt. He dragged it over his head as he crossed the room.

  As he opened the door a crack and began a murmured conversation, Ifanna sat up and pulled the covers around her against the chill. The grey light of dawn leaked through the shutters while she waited for Maelgyn to conclude his business.

  When he turned back to her he had a large pack in his hands and for a moment she wondered if they were going to run away together after all. Last night, that would have been a dream fulfilled, but now her sights were set higher.

  He pulled a cloth bundle from the pack and threw it towards the bed. ‘Put this on!’ he commanded. He was careful to keep his back to her.

  ‘Have I caused offence?’ she asked quietly, worried.

  ‘Just get dressed, please.’

  She unknotted the bundle to discover a heavy cloak, wrapped around more items: a skimpy robe similar to the one she had been given in the Tyr, this one adorned with braid and embroidery, and a small bag containing combs and cosmetics. ‘Am I to be disguised as a Putain Glan?’ she asked, looking down at the little pots of colour.

  ‘You are,’ Maelgyn said shortly. He was pulling on a red-trimmed robe.

  ‘And you will be disguised too,’ she said lightly, ‘as a priest of Carunwyd.’ She did not voice her thought: Carunwyd was the goddess of love; that was an apt disguise indeed. She finished lacing her robe under her breasts and spread out the other items on the bed. She selected the largest comb and ran it through her tangled hair, wincing as it snagged on the knots, then caught up the full length, twisted it and secured it on to
p of her head. She used the smaller combs to tidy some of the trailing strands. She was worried the effect was not going to be particularly enticing, but when she glanced up she saw Maelgyn watching her, a cup in his hand. Though she could not be sure of his expression in the dim light, she could tell that he wanted her again.

  Keeping her voice neutral, she said, ‘I have no skill in painting my face: what do you wish me to do?’

  ‘L— Leave that for now,’ he stammered. ‘Time is short.’ He lowered his eyes and drained his cup, then said, ‘We must leave at once.’

  ‘For the Tyr?’

  ‘For the Tyr, aye.’

  She could not see his face clearly, but she could feel his emotions, and what she sensed both frightened and aroused her. There was a wildness, as though something long caged had been released, but at the same time he was trying hard not to give in to her, building barriers to re-establish the distance between them. She resolved to chip away at those barriers, slowly and carefully, until she was able to release the side of him she had seen briefly in the night. Then they could be happy together, she was sure of it.

  They donned their cloaks and left. Ifanna hesitated before taking his arm, then decided to risk it. He tensed, but did not tell her to let go. As they hurried through the growing light of morning it occurred to her that his apparent coldness might be nothing more than nerves at what they were about to do.

  They turned into the steeper, richer thoroughfares leading up to the Tyr, and she said quietly, ‘Maelgyn? Is there any part of the plan you can tell me? I will understand if not, but I wish to do my part to the best of my abilities.’

  ‘You are to take over a role currently held by one with no right to it,’ he said tightly.

  Ifanna had half-expected him to chide her for not using the priestly honorific and when he said nothing, she smiled to herself, buoyed by such intimacy. ‘That is what I hoped,’ she responded. ‘After all, if the mask must be worn by a mortal woman, it should be one with talent, should it not?’

  ‘Precisely,’ he breathed. She thought he was relieved that he did not have to state his intentions openly.

  ‘Then I must ask something else: what of my promise to you?’

  ‘W— What promise?’ he asked, looking worried.

  ‘When first we met, you forbade me to use my powers.’ Arguably she had already broken that promise – but no, he had wanted her as much as she wanted him; no compulsion had been needed there.

  ‘Aye, I did.’ From the sound of it he had forgotten his earlier words, which annoyed Ifanna for a moment. Then he continued, ‘You are free of that promise, provided it serves our cause.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She added softly, ‘I would keep any promise I made to you.’

  When they reached the Tyr he led her down a side-passage near the entrance, then knocked on one of the doors using a similar sequence to the one he had used at the shuttered house. Someone called out and they went into a small room. The walls were lined with shelves holding more scrolls than Ifanna had ever seen in her life, maybe hundreds of them. Escori Garnon stood before one of the two desks in the middle of the room. Two monitors, possibly the same men who had been with him at the tavern, waited at the back of the room.

  ‘She has not painted her face,’ said the Escori.

  Maelgyn responded, ‘There was no time.’

  Ifanna forced herself not to take offence at being talked about as though she were not there.

  ‘Hmm. Hopefully it will not matter, given the early hour. You will need to keep your cloaks on anyway, to hide your weapons.’

  ‘Weapons, Gwas?’ said Maelgyn

  The Escori ignored the question, continuing, ‘Gwaun and Onfel will accompany you. They are worth two men apiece. I had hoped to recruit more to our cause, but as we are, unfortunately, having to move sooner than I had anticipated, I have procured a crossbow for you. Onfel, kindly show Maelgyn how to use the weapon.’

  The monitor came over and demonstrated; the mechanism appeared simple enough. ‘Return it to us to reload, Gwas,’ the monitor advised.

  ‘So I will definitely be using this?’ Maelgyn sounded worried.

  ‘You will. Your task is to shoot the false Cariad – fatally, if you can, but if you do not succeed, one of the monitors will finish her off. They will be using their own first shots to incapacitate the Consort and Urien – the Consort will of course be released when this is over. As for my fellow Escori . . . I have some questions to ask Urien.’ For the first time he looked at Ifanna and said, in a wry voice, ‘If the new Cariad permits it.’

  Ifanna’s heart raced. Should she answer? She met his eyes, at the same time circling her breast to show she meant no disrespect by such boldness.

  From his expression, this was the right response. ‘Can I trust you, Ifanna?’ he asked quietly.

  She held his gaze. ‘You can, Gwas,’ she responded earnestly.

  ‘Good: I sense that your heart is true,’ he said after a moment. ‘Chilwar, you will carry a weapon too, then, and when the other three have fired theirs you are to give your crossbow to Gwas Maelgyn, so he may keep control of the room while my monitors reload. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand, Gwas.’

  ‘Remember, chilwar, though your powers are a curse, you may transcend that burden by using them in a just cause – and this is a just cause.’

  She realised he was giving her permission to use her witch’s talents to help kill the false Cariad. ‘Thank you, Gwas,’ she said quietly.

  ‘And you Maelgyn: is everything clear to you?’

  ‘Aye, Gwas.’

  ‘Then you should be going – Urien will be wondering where his records have got to.’

  As they left, Ifanna could not help but ponder what part, if any, Garnon was to play in these momentous events, save to take credit when the night’s grim work was done. She put aside the unworthy thought; after all, Maelgyn said Garnon was a great man.

  As they moved deeper into the Tyr further doubts assailed her. She found herself glad they would not be killing the Consort; though her faith was worn down to a small knot of hope and guilt, she did not wish to be party to the murder of such an innocent soul . . . and now she considered it, she suspected that the false Cariad was under Urien’s control, which made her innocent too; it was a shame she had to die.

  Maelgyn was obviously uncomfortable; he had not only to hide a crossbow under his cloak, but also to grapple with the pile of scrolls that provided their excuse for visiting the Cariad. Ifanna noticed that he kept his eyes down whenever they passed anyone on their route through the Tyr. The few servants they saw circled their breast for him; the priests nodded an acknowledgement. If anyone was curious to see outdoor cloaks worn so deep within the Tyr, they did not say.

  When they reached the doors to the audience chamber, Ifanna’s apprehension increased. She remembered her first time here – and how so much had changed, in a few short days.

  The monitors on the door started to question Ifanna’s presence, but Onfel interrupted them, saying, ‘Does no one brief anyone properly these days! Have you only just come on-shift?’

  ‘Aye, captain,’ the monitor said, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘Then you should know that Escori Urien requested these scrolls’ – he gestured at Maelgyn, who kept his head bowed – ‘and the Cariad requested this woman. It is not for me – or you – to question either the Escori’s request or the Cariad’s, is that clear?’ He glared at both monitors, who stood as straight as they could.

  ‘Now, will you open the doors and call the inner guard so we may replace him?’ he barked. When the monitors exchanged glances Onfel said, ‘Do not tell me you are not even aware of the changes in this morning’s rota?’

  ‘Aye, of course sir; my apologies,’ one of the monitors said quickly. His companion opened the doors without further question.

  Ifanna had been wondering how they were to cross the chasm, but when they entered the chamber she was relieved to see a slender, rail-less br
idge in place.

  ‘Take care crossing, everyone,’ said Maelgyn unnecessarily.

  Ifanna wondered if his thoughts matched hers: that they were about to enter divine territory. If they were mistaken, Heavenly retribution might well be waiting for them.

  But they crossed without incident, and no such retribution greeted them on the far side. Maelgyn put the scrolls down and they paused for a moment outside the door to the Cariad’s room. Ifanna resolved to use her powers against the false Cariad only to incapacitate, not to harm her.

  One of the monitors opened the door, and the four of them rushed in.

  There was movement ahead, someone turning rapidly—

  —the twang of multiple crossbows—

  —and the person they had thought to surprise, Escori Urien, was facing the door as though expecting them. He was sitting in a seat of strange design, and he too had a crossbow in his hand. There was no one else in the room.

  All this Ifanna took in during an endless moment of frozen panic. Even as she was trying to work out what to do, one of the monitors fell to the floor, clutching his belly. Urien dropped his own weapon, which also clattered to the ground, and for a moment his head drooped, and Ifanna caught sight of the bolt, sticking out of his shoulder. But he straightened again almost at once, as though determined not show weakness.

  Ifanna, remembering his cold condemnation at her judgment, decided to try and attack Urien’s mind, but though she strove to catch his eye, his attention was focused on the remaining monitor, who was fumbling to reload his crossbow. Ifanna looked around and her gaze alighted on Maelgyn. She realised he had not fired yet; the tip of his crossbow wavered uncertainly.

  As Ifanna looked back at Urien, his eyes met hers, and she knew at once that this was not someone on whom her powers would ever work. She did catch the echo of one of his thoughts: something that had puzzled him had become clear the moment he saw her face.

  ‘Ah, Maelgyn.’ Urien’s voice was breathless with pain, but it was still loud enough to make Ifanna jump. ‘I appear to have misjudged the situation. Still . . . that is one mystery solved. Siarl was right. She is your daughter.’