She clucked her tongue. “I wouldn’t dream of seeing you stay anywhere else. It would be impolite of me after the lengths you have gone to to see my family reunited.”
“I did only what Sal requested.”
Radi Mierlo took a step closer and studied Sal with an appraising eye. “Yes,” she said, “you are my daughter’s son. You could only have our blood flowing through your veins. Even if I had any doubts, this would convince me.” She reached out to touch the ward in his ear. “It used to belong to your mother, you know. Sahen, her father, made it for her when she was half your age. She inherited his natural talent, although it bloomed late. He loved her very much.”
Sal nodded but still hadn’t found his voice. His grandmother smiled, and turned her charm on Shilly.
“You must be Shilly, Sal’s friend.” The force of Radi Mierlo’s stare was more powerful than Shilly had expected — even more disconcerting than the elaborate pleasantries. She was also the source of the rose scent; it poured off her in waves. “I’m pleased to meet you, too. You will always be welcome in my house.”
“Th-thanks,” Shilly stammered, not knowing what else to say in response.
“It’s the least I can do, dear.” Sal’s grandmother turned in a graceful manoeuvre to cross the room. “When I heard you were here, I could barely contain my excitement. I would have come to the Keep immediately, if I’d been allowed to. I’m so happy to meet you, and so proud of everything you’ve done. You are remarkable young people. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Sal remembered how to talk at that moment.
“Thank you, um, grandmother,” he said, hesitating over the title but continuing when she nodded encouragement. He sounded very young again. “I’ve been wanting to meet you too, since I learned about you.”
“When did you learn? Did Seirian tell you about me?”
“I never knew my mother. She was taken from me when I was very young, and she died before my father and I could find her again.”
“You’re in touch with your father?” she asked, her tone sharpening. “Highson has never mentioned this to me.”
“Not him,” Sal corrected her. “I don’t consider him my father.”
A look of confusion passed across her face, then suddenly cleared. “Of course. No, you wouldn’t. You have no reason to, as yet. You mean Dafis Hrvati, the man your mother eloped with.”
“My father,” he repeated.
“Yes.” Her gaze didn’t waver. “What happened to him?”
“He is dead.” The family resemblance was stronger than ever, Shilly thought, when Sal was keeping a lid on his emotions. She wondered if Radi Mierlo was hiding something too, and if so what it was.
Sal’s grandmother was the first to look away. She turned gracefully and indicated the man standing in the corner, who had yet to utter a sound.
“Forgive my rudeness,” she said. “I haven’t completed my introductions. This is Manton Gourlay, our host for the evening. He is the sole surviving heir of the great explorer, Jack Gourlay. This lovely abode belongs to him. He allows me to use it when business brings me to town. Come forward and say hello, Manton.”
The slender giant stepped out of the corner and offered a very large hand to the mage. Then he bowed briefly to Sal and Shilly. “Welcome to my house,” he said in a voice soft and tremulous. Shilly had never heard of any “great explorer” called Jack Gourlay, but understood now the significance of the trinkets and the maps on the walls.
“Manton lives here alone,” Sal’s grandmother said, reaching up to adjust their host’s lapel as one would for a child. “He enjoys the company. Don’t you, my dear? He would be offended if we stayed elsewhere, and accepting the gift honours the giver, as they say.”
Manton Gourlay nodded patiently, apparently deaf to the patronising tone that put Shilly’s teeth on edge. Shilly wondered if he had missed out on some of the traits that had made his ancestor great. Or maybe he just liked being told what to do when he was off duty. She had seen couples like that in Fundelry — fishermen who could haul a shark onto a boat with their bare hands but barely spoke up at home.
“Nobody is so generous as those with nothing to give,” said the Mage Van Haasteren.
Radi Mierlo chuckled. “Indeed. But I am a great believer in generosity. Generosity and family. There is no bond greater than blood, and no gift greater than forgiveness. Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Sal?” Her full attention was back on him, and her voice had a subtly commanding edge that Shilly suspected could turn to steel if required. “No matter what your mother did — no matter how much she damaged her family’s ascendance and hurt me — I would forgive her now, if she were here before me. As she is not, and I will never have the opportunity to welcome her back into our family, I can only welcome you, instead, and say that you will always be forgiven, no matter what you do. The Mierlos are your blood, and we are yours. No person can change that. It is written in the stone that is the symbol of our Clan. The Earth itself is witness to the bond between us — a bond that I have no desire to break, now that it has been acknowledged. Now that I have seen you with my own eyes.” A smile softened her features, and her eyes gleamed as though filled with tears. “My daughter’s son. My grandson.”
“Do you —” Sal’s voice broke again. He shook his head in annoyance. “Do you have other grandchildren?”
“Why, yes, of course. Your mother had a sister and a brother, both older than her. They have two and three children respectively. You will meet your cousins in due course. No doubt you wish to learn more about the rest of your family. I have pictures of your mother at home in Mount Birrinah, when she was young. Your resemblance to her is very strong. Would you like to see them?”
“Yes, very much.” He glanced up at mage beside him. “Would I be allowed to?”
“We are open to familial visits,” said the mage, “although not usually so soon in training. The children are to be given their robes tomorrow,” he explained to Radi Mierlo. “They have their studies waiting for them back at the Keep.”
“Of course, Mage Van Haasteren,” she said. “I understand your concern and I am sure something can be arranged. I feel that a child learns best in the company of those who love and nurture him, and will do all in my power to ensure that nothing comes between them and him.”
The mage smiled in response, but it was thin, with a tension Shilly could only guess at. Didn’t the mage want Sal to go? The thought suddenly struck her that they might expect her to go with him to Mount Birrinah, and she almost groaned aloud.
“But I am remiss,” said Sal’s grandmother, as though sensing Shilly’s restlessness. “You must be hungry. Melantha, is everything ready for dinner?”
“All is as you requested.” The steward bowed and left the room.
“Excellent. We will retire in a moment to eat. I have requested that we six sit apart from the others so we can talk in private. I hope that will be in order, Mage Van Haasteren?”
“Whatever suits Sal, Mrs Mierlo. As his temporary guardian and teacher I give him permission to choose in this instance.”
“Indeed. Well, Sal. Would you like to eat with me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Very good.” She smiled broadly and put her hands on his shoulders. Sal stared up at her as though hypnotised. Shilly had never seen him like this.
“You said six,” she blurted out.
“What’s that?” Radi Mierlo’s pale blue eyes turned on her.
“You said there could be six of us for dinner. I count only five.”
“Ah, yes.” She addressed Sal again, her voice solemn. “We have another guest for dinner this evening, my grandson. He’s been looking forward to meeting you very much, I know. He has come a long way to talk to you about your future.”
“What about his future?” asked the Mage Van Haasteren.
“About whether Sal should return home,” said a voice from the doorway behind them, “to the place where he was born.”
Hardly believing her ears, Shilly turned at the same time as Sal to see a man they’d assumed they’d left far behind them.
“Where he belongs,” said the Sky Warden, Shom Behenna.
Part Three: Judging
Chapter 12
Lust for Power
For a moment, Sal was unable to move. All he could do was stare at the Sky Warden — at the man who had somehow managed to follow them all the way from the Strand into the heart of the Interior — with a feeling like a cold knife point running down his spine. The only outward sign that Behenna was enjoying his surprise was a faint smile playing across his lips.
“No,” Sal said. “It’s not possible. You can’t be here.”
“Oh, it is, and I am. It’s nice to see you again.” Sal sensed gloating behind the pleasant facade. “And you too, Shilly. How’s your leg feeling now? Tait has been hoping we’d catch up with you.”
She just gaped at him. Sal couldn’t blame her.
The Sky Warden folded his hands in front of his blue robe as he waited for them to say something. His skin was darker than anyone else’s in the room, even Shilly’s. Tiny whorls and details in the delicately fashioned crystal torc fastened around his neck caught the light and reflected rainbow flashes. His deep blue robes seemed undamaged by the journey. Maybe he had a spare set, Sal thought feverishly, trying to accept the revelation.
He hadn’t felt the Warden tap-tapping once! How had he known ...?
“How —?” he began, but stopped when his voice dropped down into its new, deeper register. “No,” he said again. “I don’t care how you got here. I’m not going to eat with you, and I’m not going back to the Strand. I’m here now, and I’m going to stay here.”
“At least hear the alternative, Sal.”
“There’s no point. I’m not going back.”
“You’re just going to throw away everything you’ve ever known? All those places and people? Your home?”
“The only home I ever had was with my father on the road, and you took that away from me.”
“Not I, Sal. I have never harmed you. In fact, I’ve helped you. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Sal felt an anger rise in him from a place so deep he had never suspected its existence. “Don’t play with me,” he said, barely able to keep his voice level. “I’m not stupid. The Syndic and her schemes killed my father, and you’re on her side. I’m not going to talk to you, let alone go back to her.”
A sensation like wind rushed through the room. Sal felt it all over his skin, as though he had been wrapped in a miniature hurricane. Small inhalations from Shilly and the mage at his side told him that they had also felt it. Behenna took a step back. But it wasn’t a wind that anyone else could hear. It was the Change, gathering like clouds before a storm. Sal wasn’t aware of where it came from until the Mage Van Haasteren stepped between him and the Sky Warden and raised a hand in command.
“Enough!” he said in a commanding tone Sal had not heard before. “Stop it, Sal. Do not do this. You don’t have to listen to him. You’ve done enough. Leave it there.”
Sal was confused for a moment. The wind strengthened. Shilly edged away from him, looking frightened. Behenna’s eyes widened in alarm — and only then did the mage’s words sink in. The wind was coming from Sal. The Change was swirling around him in readiness to attack almost without his conscious control. He could feel its eagerness and its strength coursing through his body. It was all he could do to hold it back.
“I will not go home, and you can’t make me.” He forced himself to speak calmly, despite the rage still coursing inside him. He urged the Change to recede, and it did ebb slightly, reluctantly. “Tell the Syndic to leave me alone.”
“Your grandmother — along with your great-aunt — would gladly release you into the world, Sal, if the decision was yours.” Behenna’s posture lost some of its tension as the threat of attack eased. His face assumed an expression of wary nonchalance. “But you’re a minor. You’re not old enough to do whatever you want. You can’t possibly expect your families to be so uncaring.”
“They don’t know me, so how can they care about me?”
“But we do, Sal,” said Radi Mierlo from behind him. “Give me a chance to prove that, and we can deal with the Syndic as one. We will be stronger working together than you would be on your own.”
Sal turned to face her, but felt uncomfortable with Behenna behind him. He walked backward until he could see both of them, even though it meant going deeper into the room, away from Shilly and the mage. “You said we should listen to him.”
“I did, yes.” She came across the room until she was standing right in front of him again, near enough to touch. This time she didn’t touch him, but her eyes never left his. “You should at least do that much. His case is convincing. I would be keen to hear why you are so opposed to it. After all, you do have family there.”
“I have family here, too,” he said.
“Yes. But we have lived in the Strand before. I would accompany you back to make certain of your safety. There would be nothing to fear, Sal. I would let nothing happen to you, I promise.”
Van Haasteren laughed humourlessly. “Now I know your game, Radi Mierlo.”
Sal’s grandmother’s gaze whipped across the room. “Do you, mage?”
“A child could see through it. You are as transparent as you are ambitious, and care no more about Sal than those who killed his father.”
“And what about you?” she snapped back. “You who put yourself so easily in Payat Misseri’s shoes. Do you, too, want to tutor a wild talent? Is that how you hope to earn your place? To succeed where he failed?”
The mage went a shade whiter. “I have earned the right to teach anyone who comes to the Keep. Payat has no bearing on what is best for Sal —”
“And neither do you,” said Behenna, stepping forward. “Sal is a minor, and he’s also a citizen of the Strand. Our law applies. He must be returned to his family there.”
“But he’s not in the Strand any more. How can your law apply here?”
“That’s a very good point,” the warden admitted, although his expression lost none of its triumph. “That is why we have petitioned the Synod to hear our case. The decision will be taken out of all our hands and placed in theirs. They will decide what happens to Sal — not you or me, or Radi. When the law of your land determines what is best, you will have to accede to it, will you not?”
The Mage Van Haasteren looked from Behenna to Radi Mierlo, then back to Sal. He was trapped. Sal glanced at Shilly, but her eyes, wide with surprise, were fixed on the Sky Warden. His grandmother waited to see what the mage would say, while Manton Gourlay, the descendant of the great explorer, stood as patiently as a statue in his corner.
Sal was frozen in the moment and wished he hadn’t reined in the Change. It would have felt good to vindicate the alarm in the warden’s eyes. Everything would have unravelled if he had set the Change free. All of the Syndic’s schemes to get him back would have come to nothing without Behenna in the Interior. And the warden, so far away from the sea, would have been unable to resist.
But Sal knew it would have been wrong. It would make him no better than the Syndic herself. When he had struck out at her and the Alcaide before, the feeling of it had been uncontrolled and dangerous, just as it had felt when Behenna had confronted him. Van Haasteren had said that people with the wild talent could tear themselves apart using it, and he could see why. It was an enticing thought, but it could ultimately lead to disaster.
And besides, the Alcaide’s retaliation to his attack in Fundelry had killed his father. He didn’t want another backlash to hurt someone else he cared about. It might have been Shilly, this time. She had suffered enough because of him.
The mage’s jaw worked, then he said, “I will accede to the decision of the Synod, as is my duty.”
“Good,” said Behenna. “They meet at the next full moon, in six days. That gives us just enough time to travel to the Nine Stars to present our cases. You may travel with us, if you like, for safety of numbers.”
“I can make my own arrangements.”
“I’m sure you can.” The warden waved the matter away as though unimportant. “We can discuss the details over dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Yes,” said Radi Mierlo, adopting the role of perfect hostess as smoothly as though it was a mask. “Our meal is waiting. Melantha.” The steward appeared instantly in the doorway. “Be so kind as to show our guests to the dining room.”
Sal stood his ground as his grandmother tried to sweep him with her to the door.
“I told you,” Sal said, looking at Behenna and wishing he could erase the smug expression from his face. The Sky Warden thought he had already won. “I’m not going to eat with him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear,” she said. “You must let bygones be bygones, if only long enough to fill your stomach.”
“You can’t force me to,” he said, “and if you try, I’ll know you don’t have my best interests at heart.”
An identical flash of anger, brief but potent, passed over the faces of the warden and his grandmother. “Oh, very well,” she said. “If you insist. Manton, you lead the way while Melantha takes Sal to the boys’ quarters. If he doesn’t want dinner, we wonforce him to eat.”
The owner of the house stirred and walked through the door, waving for people to follow. They did so awkwardly, in embarrassed silence. The mage cast him a warning look, but followed the others. Sal wanted to shout to Shilly for help, to ask her if she thought he was wrong, but Behenna swept her off with him and he remembered the way she had pulled away from him during their last lesson in the Keep. Was that how it was to go? She didn’t need him any more, so she threw him to the dogs?
The Sky Warden & the Sun (Books of the Change) Page 26
