by Ian Irvine
“I’m not sure…” said Esea warningly.
“We know why you’re here,” said Osseion. “Tallia sent word.”
“Where is she?” said Hingis. “I need to contact her urgently.” To advise her that he’d betrayed his word and given the enemy the code to the spell vault.
“No idea. She said to send any messages to Chanthed, but she may not get there for a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks!” cried Esea.
Snoat would surely have plundered the spell vault by then, and he would be unstoppable. Hingis wished he had died on that toxic hilltop.
“I can make your arrangements but I don’t go out much – arthritis has me buggered. Ussarine will look after you and there’s no better guard in all Meldorin.” Osseion’s voice rang with pride. “I’ve taught her all about weaponry, and when she was younger Tallia taught Ussarine everything she knows about unarmed combat – which is everything. Ussarine also holds the rank of captain in the Sith militia.”
Ussarine sat at the far end of the table and took hold of her mug but did not drink. Esea did not look happy. She drew the bowl towards her and began to eat.
“What’s happening up north?” said Hingis.
“Snoat’s forces are moving slowly south and west from Thurkad,” said Osseion. “There’s no opposition worth a damn and the roads are full of refugees.”
Hingis took a morsel of bread and butter. “You know about the Merdrun?”
“We’re facing an invasion from the void, a martial race that even the Charon feared, and Snoat’s chaos is preparing the way for them,” said Osseion. “We have to get rid of him but first we need an army.”
“Assuming we can fund it,” said Esea.
“Sith’s merchants are raising money. But what you need is fighting men –” he glanced at his daughter “ – and women.”
Ussarine caught Hingis’s eyes on her and looked down at the table. Was her father’s reputation too much to live up to, or did she think he would sooner have had a son?
“But that can wait,” added Osseion. “When you’ve eaten, your baths will be ready, and your beds. We’ll talk further in the morning.”
He drained his mug and went out. Ussarine followed, carrying her untasted beer.
Esea closed the door, then said quietly, “I’m not happy with her being involved.”
Hingis ate some soup. “Why not?”
“We don’t know anything about her.”
“If we can’t trust people who come highly recommended, we’ll never get anything done.”
“You didn’t trust the one person in the world who would never let you down, then blabbed Tallia’s secret at my first squeak.”
“Scorbic Vyl wasn’t going to stop with your toes.”
“You should have kept your mouth shut,” said Esea.
“Would you, if he’d been cutting bits off me?”
She did not reply.
“Esea, I’m exhausted and every bone aches.”
Hingis rose unsteadily. Esea’s face was pale save for a red flush on each cheek. He went out and Ussarine showed him to his room, where a steaming bath was waiting. He undressed and slid into the blissfully hot water, scrubbed himself with thyme-scented soap, and for the first time in days he was not in pain. He lay back and closed his eyes, allowing the heat to ease his cares.
Now drowsy, he got into bed, but the pain grew and the further he reached towards blessed sleep the further it retreated. Shortly there was a knock on the door. Esea, he assumed. They had never been estranged this long before, and he relied on her as much as she did on him. He had to undo the damage.
“Come in,” he said.
But it was Ussarine carrying a small jug of oil and a towel. She entered, leaving the door half open.
“Father sent me,” she said, lowering her eyes. “He thought your back might need a rub.”
“It’s all right.” Hingis did not like anyone seeing his sad, twisted body. He sat up, and such a spasm passed through him that a groan escaped.
“Father said to insist. If you would just turn over…”
The muscles in his back were like knotted tree roots. Hingis did not have the strength to resist.
She warmed some oil in her hands and set to work. Her fingers were immensely strong, yet she knew exactly where to press hard and where to be gentle. Within a minute he felt the tension leaving him and the pains in his distorted frame easing. He surrendered himself to the power of her hands.
“Hingis?” Esea said from outside the door. “Are you awake?”
She pushed the door open, came in and froze, looking from Hingis to Ussarine, then back to him. Her beautiful face warped. Ussarine, absorbed in her work, took a while to realise Esea was there. She started, her fingertips gouging into Hingis’s back. They stared at one another, Esea in fury, Ussarine in puzzlement, which was slowly replaced by a mortified flush.
Esea turned and went out without a word, then slammed her own door so furiously that it shook the upper floor of Ninefingers.
“I’m so sorry,” Ussarine said in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean to come between you and your twin.”
“It’s all right,” said Hingis. “Thank you. My back feels better than it has in years.”
She nodded distractedly, picked up the oil and the towel and went out, pulling the door closed behind her. Hingis sat up. His back was utterly pain-free and it wasn’t the only thing to wonder about. Ussarine did not appear to see him as a monster. She had simply treated him like another human being, and this gave him the most inexpressible joy.
But it had made things even worse with Esea.
Hingis had made no progress with Esea, who rebuffed him every time he opened his mouth. He ached for the loss of her.
“Sorry it’s taking so long,” said Osseion after they had been in Sith for five days with little to show for it. They were at the back of the empty barroom by the fire. “With Snoat’s forces heading our way, most of the people I need to talk to have gone into hiding.”
“Sith’s walls are strong,” said Esea. “Surely it’s not in immediate danger?”
“We’re a city state on an island in a river and we rely on trade; we can’t even feed ourselves. But if war comes to the south, there won’t be any trade.”
“What have you got for us?”
“Half a dozen experienced officers. Good leaders, all of them, and they’ll know where to find the troops you need.”
“Are they reliable?”
“Used to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I knew them well in the old days. Ussarine will take you to meet them tomorrow.” He went out.
Esea was scowling. “That woman!”
“Why have you taken such a set against her? She’s quiet, polite, reliable—”
“You know why!” she hissed.
He did but wanted to hear her say it. “Tell me.”
“She wants to take you away from me.”
“Rubbish. She’s just a kind person.”
“Who was rubbing your naked body when I came in the other day.”
“She was massaging my aching back,” he said coldly, “with the door open. Ussarine has no interest in me… that way.”
“You want her though, don’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a hideous little wreck that no woman would look twice at.”
“You want a permanent bond, a soulmate. Where will that leave me?”
The door opened and Ussarine came in carrying a laden breakfast tray in one hand. She put down plates of steaming porridge laden with green mussels, crisp fried blackfish with yellow mushrooms and a large pot of red tea.
Hingis studied her surreptitiously. There was nothing meagre about Ussarine’s figure: though she was huge, all was in proportion. Her face was not pretty, but neither was it plain, and it was kindly. Besides, compared to him she was an extraordinary beauty.
Esea wore a sour smile. You see.
Ussar
ine went out. She had a long vigorous stride; her hips oscillated as she walked and her trousers stretched across taut, splendid buttocks. Hingis swallowed and looked away.
Esea dug him in the ribs, smirking. He devoted himself to his mussel porridge, flushing. He wasn’t naïve; Ussarine was simply being nice because that’s the kind of person she was. And perhaps because Hingis, having no expectations, was not intimidated by her size and her mastery of the warrior’s arts.
He had also noticed how lacking in confidence she was, despite being bigger and stronger than most men and a more accomplished fighter. Or did her lack of confidence come from precisely those things?
When she came back for the empty plates, to his own surprise he found himself asking if she would like to have dinner with him that evening. She looked down at him in surprise, and for a moment he thought she was going so refuse, or mock him as so many women had before he’d learned to avoid such humiliations. Then a shy little smile grew until it transformed her whole face.
“I’d love to,” said Ussarine. “I’ll be free at seven.”
He was heading to his room when he saw the expression on Esea’s face. She was furious. But what could she do?
“You’re what?” he cried when Esea told him at breakfast the following morning.
“Going to the meeting in Chanthed. Right away.”
“But we’ve got work to do here.”
“It doesn’t need both of us.”
“Why so suddenly? The council isn’t until the week after next.”
“It’s at least a ten-day trip from here.”
“But I…” He almost said, I need you. Perhaps it would have turned out better if he had, but he was also thinking that the separation would do them both good. And, selfishly, that it would make it easier for him to spend time with Ussarine. They’d had a most pleasant dinner last night. He had quite forgotten that he was a hideous cripple.
“Yes?” she said eagerly.
“Nothing. If you feel you must go, that’s all there is to it. Though I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
A spasm struck him in the chest. “You know you’re on Snoat’s death list.”
“So are you. Besides, I’ll be going via the back ways.”
“You don’t know the back ways to Chanthed from here.”
After a pause, she said, “My bodyguard does.”
It fell into the silence like a hammer against a bell.
“What bodyguard?” A fist closed around his kidneys and squeezed until he was hard pressed not to scream.
Esea’s smile was vengeful, malicious. “I talked Osseion into sending Ussarine with me.”
19
A DINNER BEST FORGOTTEN
“What are we going to do for Daddy?” said Sulien to Karan.
They were walking back to the manor with a basket of mushrooms each. In the drought they were only to be found in damp places below the granite cliffs of the Gothryme escarpment, a mile and a half behind them.
The theft of his manuscript had shattered Llian, and not even Sulien could cheer him up. It was a devastating blow to Karan too. If war drove them out of Gothryme they had nowhere to go because their allies would be in the same boat. They would have to count every coin before they spent it, and what little coin she could scrape together would run out quickly if they had to pay for food and lodgings every night.
There was nothing to be done. Even if Llian accused Anjo Duril of stealing it, no one would take the word of a disgraced ex-chronicler over that of a respectable master.
“We’ll cook Llian the best dinner he’s ever—”
Karan looked around at the sound of hoof beats. “I wonder who that is?” They scrambled up a small hill and she squinted at the two riders. “Shit!” Was the whole world conspiring against her?
“You’re not supposed to swear,” said Sulien.
“It’s Maigraith! What’s she doing here?”
“Who’s Maigraith?”
“Someone I knew years ago. She’s… very powerful.” And she always brought trouble.
“Powerful with what?”
“Mancery. She was trained by Faelamor, the greatest illusionist in all the Three Worlds. And Rulke taught her his own secret arts.”
“Don’t you like her?”
“She’s… a difficult, manipulative woman. She almost got me killed half a dozen times.”
“Who’s that with her?”
“Looks like her son, Julken. He’s the same age as you.”
“I like it when we have visitors. Except for that rotten Anjo Duril.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“His mouth was always smiling but he’s got snake eyes.”
“I should have consulted you before I let him in.”
“I can always tell if someone is good or bad,” said Sulien.
“Really?” said Karan. “What about Benie?”
“There’s not a bad thing in him.”
“And yet he killed Cook,” Karan said, to herself.
“The drumming made him do it.”
That would not save him. The judge had made this clear when Karan had pleaded for Benie’s life a second time. The judge had warned her not to pester him again.
They barely had time to deposit the mushrooms in the kitchen and wash their hands before Maigraith arrived. Karan gave Sulien’s hair a perfunctory brush, then her own, which made no difference to either, and headed to the front door.
Maigraith was just dismounting. She was slender, neither tall nor short, with silky chestnut-coloured hair cut across at shoulder length. Her eyes were indigo flecked with carmine and her oval face would have been striking save for a thin-lipped, unsmiling mouth. She had hardly aged since Karan had last seen her, but then, with both Charon and Faellem ancestors, why would she? Maigraith could be two hundred years old for all Karan knew, and might live as long again.
She did not greet Karan, but turned and reached up as if to lift Julken down from his horse. He smacked her hand aside with a meaty fist, half-fell off the black stallion, landed with a thump and turned, glowering at them. Karan took a step back – he was gigantic.
“I thought you said he was nine?” Sulien hissed.
Her face wore an expression Karan had never seen on it before – utter loathing. I can always tell if someone is good or bad.
Julken’s father had been a big handsome man. Julken had the same black hair and dark complexion, but ordinary brown eyes. A broad, solid body was matched to a round head and a mean little mouth. He was already taller than Karan’s five foot one, and fully grown he would be a giant.
“Julken,” said Maigraith, “this is my old friend Karan. We were pregnant together. Shake hands.”
Julken’s lip curled in disgust at the word pregnant. He took Karan’s extended hand and crushed it. She winced and he grinned, the evil toad.
“And Sulien,” said Maigraith, looking down her nose at her. Sulien’s clothes were grubby and there was dirt under her fingernails. “Little girls shouldn’t be allowed to run wild.”
And you should mind your own damned business.
Sulien reluctantly put out her hand, which wasn’t half the size of Julken’s. He enfolded it in his gigantic paw, squeezed as if he was trying to crush her bones, then yelped and jerked his hand back, shaking it furiously. There were swollen red stripes across his palm and fingers.
Karan had no idea what Sulien had done, or how she had done it, but she had never felt more proud of her.
Julken looked Gothryme up and down. “What a ruin! Do we have to stay here, Maig?”
Karan expected Maigraith to rebuke him, but she wore a smile that could only be described as doting.
“There’s a fine inn in Tolryme,” Karan said hastily. “Far better than the small comforts we can provide here. Better food too.”
“Food is food,” said Maigraith. “I don’t care what I eat.”
“I do,” whined Julken. “They’ll probably feed us on dog, or cockroach
.”
“We came all this way to see little Sulien,” said Maigraith. She looked at Karan expectantly.
Cold feathers ticked the back of Karan’s neck. What was going on?
“Yes, come in.” She forced a smile.
Julken barged past Karan, knocking her sideways. “Bring my bags and be quick about it,” he snapped.
Hospitality wasn’t that sacred. Karan gestured Maigraith to the door and followed her through.
“Run and find Llian,” she whispered to Sulien. “Ask him to make a special effort.”
Julken continued in the same vein for the next half-hour while they took tea on the terrace. Gothryme was cold, cramped and ugly, and Rachis was a stupid old fool who should have been put down years ago. Karan was outraged for her old friend, who pretended that he had not heard, and even more outraged at Maigraith, who despite her criticisms of Sulien’s wild upbringing, shabby clothes and general lack of grooming, failed to check her own son in any way.
Llian came around the corner, wearing his best clothes. Maigraith stood up abruptly. Her eyes had gone hard and she was quivering with suppressed fury.
What was the matter? There had been no tension between Maigraith and Llian the last time they had met, before the children were born. She had been quite friendly towards him. Now it looked as though she hated Llian. Fear shivered through Karan. Maigraith was a very bad enemy and not one that Llian could deal with. What had changed?
“Julken,” said Maigraith. “This is Llian, Sulien’s father.”
Llian put out his hand. Julken did not offer his own.
“This man killed my father?” Julken said incredulously. “I don’t believe it. He couldn’t even lift a real man’s weapon.”
“Tensor killed your father,” said Karan. “He’d always hated Rulke.”
“But Llian incited him,” said Maigraith. “Words are the sharpest weapon of all, aren’t they, Llian?”
Karan’s fear sharpened. Clearly Maigraith blamed Llian for Rulke’s death, but what was she really up to?
That night, after the worst meal Karan had ever prepared, Maigraith entertained them with a brilliant demonstration of the Secret Art – a mid-air recreation of the solar system, complete with six planets, their twenty-seven moons, a band of asteroids and half a dozen comets, all moving in their orbits. She expressed grudging surprise when Sulien named all the planets in the correct order.
