by Dawn Peers
Quinn nodded dumbly and got off her knees. She brushed down, drafted a quick bow to each of them, and fled the room.
* * *
“Keep an eye on her Elias,” Sammah said. “She’s asking too many questions. I’m not going to be able to control her like the others for much longer. We’re going to need a new plan.”
Elias nodded and left. Sammah started pacing the room. It was happening too soon. Was Quinn really already this old? Or had he simply underestimated her power, for her to be sensing him already? Either way, his plans were going to be swung into action whether he liked it or not. They would need some adjusting to make sure the dice still rolled the right way, but they would still work. He would not let his ill-judgement of one of his charges get in the way of a plan he had been weaving since the end of the ill-fated Empath War.
22
“Ah she was a pretty one under all that filth, make no mistake, Eden. Sharp eyes. Not overdone. Looked a bit angry. Maybe a bit too feisty for me. Some men like that though, eh? A spirited mare.”
Eden tried to ignore his father as he was elbowed for what felt like the hundredth time over dinner. He didn’t care for being jostled about when he was trying to eat, though his chances of actually speaking out against his tyrant of a father and getting through the day with his skin intact were minimal. He wished Rowan were there to cushion him from his father’s attention, but both of his brothers were roaming the castle with Ross. They were being familiarised with the layout, and the work of a royal chamberlain. He took a deliberately large mouthful of bread and muffled words through it, hoping to placate Shiver with vague responses. Eden resented growing up. His father hadn’t been this open the last time he had come to court. He was growing older, yes. That didn’t mean he wanted to be exposed to the libidinous ravings of his own father. He’d considered, more than once, going to the herbman’s apprentice and getting some ground chasteberry to temper his ale. It would be interesting to see if that had any effect, or if the doddering guild of fools had simply taken to deception to keep their place in civilised society.
Eden took another chew as his father kept dribbling on about the maid he had seen in Sammah’s apartments. Even Harn seemed bored with it all. They even shared some conspiratorial whispers.
“I wish these meetings would hurry up and start, then he’ll be out of our way for at least a few days.”
“Yes, but imagine what he’ll be like when he finally gets out again. You think he’s bad now? Imagine what he’ll be like after a couple of days out of the saddle.”
Eden made a sour face, and Harn gave him a genuinely hearty laugh in response.
They carried on in this fashion throughout. All other lords had arrived throughout the morning, so sooner or later the men would get their wish. If not by this evening, then by tomorrow morning, Vance would have Ross ring the bells at the top tower, and the Lords of Everfell would be called in to court with their king.
When Eden had been a babe, these meetings had actually meant something, so his father would have him believe. They had been meetings of war and tactics, where the movements of the joint armies of the seven Lords of Everfell had been planned and instructed. Shiver had been crucial in these meetings; a leader even. King Vance had no knowledge of war. It had been the city of Sevenspells, for as long as Eden had ears to hear it, that had the defence of Everfell from the threats that lay to the south. Those threats had been the legions of the Sha’sek. Hundreds of years prior, no one had thought that it would be possible for an army to cross the Southern Desert and still be in enough shape to wage war. What they hadn’t considered, was that an army could come across the desert and wait in the southwestern wildlands, recouping their strength and gathering supplies. From there, the roads of the king were available for any horse that wished to travel. Everfell had been caught severely unawares by the barbarians from the south. They had been organised fighters. Where Everfell had assumed Sha’sek to be disparate island states with no common interests, they had come across a united enemy with strong and defined leadership, intent on achieving its simple and clear goal; defeat Everfell, and forge a way inland for their people to thrive in a land they claimed had once been theirs.
Whether the statement or history was true or not, what the ledgers left in no doubt was Shiver’s role in keeping Everfell safe. He was a war hero. The problem was, he had spent the last fifteen years making sure that absolutely no one forgot that.
As the stories wore on, and Eden’s patience grew thin, he was about to summon someone for directions to the herbman, when his prayers were answered. Ross walked to the centre of the hall and the hubbub around him automatically stopped. The ceremonial bell hung limply in his giant hand. He waited for complete peace before he raised this and pealed it once. There was a collective holding of breath before the great bell sounded in response. Stifled though it was by the bricks of the castle, it brought a raucous cheer from everyone gathered in the hall, for no other reason than it underlined the existing peace that brought them all together now.
Shiver threw his napkin to the table as he rose. The formerly white piece of starched cloth was now smeared with grease and blood from the lord’s feasting. He pulled at Eden’s shoulder.
“Come, lad. You can see the hall. It’s tradition, when you get to your age. Then you can do what you like for the next couple of days. Hopefully I’ll come back to find out you’ve both grown some balls and started using them.”
Eden sulked all the way up the circular stairs to the suites at the very top of the castle. He had to admit, it was pretty exciting to be allowed in to the royal apartments where his father and the other lords would exclusively spend the next few days of meetings. His visit, however, was cut abruptly short as a giant of a man clad in rough dark leather came at them headlong in the hallway. Eden’s legs buckled as he took in the sword at the man’s side, the colour of his skin, and the scars that lanced across its surface. How could they let such a heavily-armed Sha’sek in this part of the castle? He glanced at his father. Shiver looked pale, but he didn’t back off. Eden started to shake, his limbs getting hot with adrenalin. What was going on?
“What do you want?”
The man merely pointed, back the way he had come.
“I can’t. Didn’t you hear the bell? Are you deaf as well as mute?”
The man put his hand to his sword belt, and lifted the hilt clear of the sheath. It was a slight gesture, and he dropped it back within seconds, but its meaning was clear enough. Who was this emboldened man?
“Fine! Fine. Sammah will pay for this, mark my words. Here, boy.”
Eden was unexpectedly tugged close to his father, who hissed in to his ear.
“Attend the Baron Sammah. Do whatever he wants. Whatever he wants. He thinks he’s got me right where he wants me, but he knows nothing about the resources Sevenspells has at its disposal. Find out everything you can. Make yourself invaluable, you understand me? I want to hear a report when I’m out of these blasted meetings.”
Pushing Eden back in to the middle of the corridor, he grunted out loud, “Take my son. He is my guard captain, and can speak in my name. He knows enough of my affairs to be as much as Sammah needs.”
“What? I don’t…father I…”
“Don’t fail me, Eden.” Shiver hissed before pushing him in to the waiting clutches of the Sha’sek mercenary. Eden was unceremoniously dragged, his feet crumbling beneath him, as he tried to make sense of what his father had said. He knew nothing of Sevenspell’s politics, nor any of his father’s affairs. None of the kind associated with ruling, at any rate.
As he was pushed through the already-open door of Sammah’s chambers, he wondered whether this had all been an elaborate setup, and putting him in this situation was the sole reason his father had made him captain of the guard and brought him to Everfell in the first place.
23
“I have a better idea. Quickly, take off your hood.”
“But Sammah, he will see me. He’ll know what
I am. Wouldn’t you think it would be best if…?”
“Just do as I ask, Quinn. I’m not asking you to think. I’m asking you to act.”
She did as Sammah bade her, quickly pulling of the cloak and hood that marked her as the Satori and throwing it down behind Sammah’s chair, where it was hopefully out of sight. Not too long before time either, as a young lad was pushed through the door, stumbling on to his hands and knees and scraping himself on the hard stone floor.
“Elias,” Sammah scolded “this is no way to treat a guest. Especially not one of noble decent. Here, let me help you up.”
Sammah had sounded every bit as taunting as he had meant to be, though with the implied politeness, Eden could do nothing but take the man’s hand and dust himself off.
“Thank you, baron. Your friend—Elias, was it—has a very hard-handed way of dealing with people.”
“I’m sorry my lord, he has problems with following orders. He’s often far too literal. I didn’t mean to have him actually dragged here. You oaf. Go to the antechamber. That will be all for now.”
Elias—a mountain to rival Ross, as far as Eden could see—shrugged and left the room. How odd. Had his father said the man was mute? Was that true, rather than just an insult? Eden was about to ask about that when he caught sight of the young woman who stood to the side of Sammah’s chair. She had to be around his age. She was tall and slender, her skin tanned and fresh. Her eyes were a heavy blue. They looked weary. Almost as if they belonged to someone older than her. Her lips were thin, possibly held that way in a line. Very stern. She was definitely stunning. Eden thought that if she smiled, then she would perhaps be beautiful.
“Ah, Eden, isn’t it? This is Quinn, the eldest of my orphans.”
Eden thought he saw the girl—Quinn, the name suited her—redden at the tag. What a shame. How young had she been when she’d had to go through the pain of losing her mother and father?
* * *
Quinn was having problems at keeping her own jaw from dropping. As soon as she touched over Eden, she knew she had felt him before. His frame was familiar. He was the lad she had seen lost in the hallway. She had sensed him another time, too. But when? She would have remembered it if she’d been herself. Then it came to her. The courtyard. He’d been there then, when she had collapsed. Her face coloured at the memories. How embarrassing. Did he remember her? Unfortunately, Eden answered the question for her.
“The young woman in the courtyard? Of course. Are you healed? You seemed in great pain. I hope one of our men didn’t…”
“No,” she broke in, unable to restrain herself at the unbridled concern emanating from this young man. “I’m fine, thank you. It wasn’t your men. Everyone was most responsive to my plight.”
Eden nodded. Quinn didn’t detach. She felt every single fluctuation as Eden went from concern to guilt, to sadness and to gratitude that no long-term harm had been done. He had forgotten why he was here, and lost all concern for his own personal wellbeing. What a curious man.
Realising she didn’t want to be here analysing him for Sammah, she broke away. Sammah turned and raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head in return. Sammah frowned, and she shook her head again.
“I’m sorry, baron. I forgot that Ross has some extra duties for me to attend. I need to go.”
Buzzing at the defiance she was showing, she strode straight past a bewildered Sammah, her heart hammering as she moved within inches of the handsome and beguiling noble from Sevenspells. Quinn didn’t even flinch as she passed Elias, who scanned his eyes over her quickly, dismissing her in the same instance. She expected Sammah to shout out to her, but she supposed he didn’t dare, not in the presence of someone he—no, she—wasn’t meant to be questioning. The further she got down the corridor, the wider her smile grew. She was in control. She didn’t have to do as Sammah bade. She was going to be free. She was going to be fine.
24
In retrospect, she should have slept somewhere else.
Her dreams had been light, her sleep, weighty. Quinn was woken up with a fist wrapped around her neck. She choked, trying to scream but barely able to breath. Foul breath spilled over her. She tried to hold her breath, but knew she’d pass out soon enough anyway. Opening her eyes, she could make out a silhouette in the darkness, but with the moonless sky she couldn’t make out a face. No matter. There were very few candidates for who would be doing such a thing, and at such a time.
She reached out with her ability, and found the familiar head-squeezing blankness of Elias.
She felt the pressure of one finger that lay gently across her lips in a laughable juxtaposition to the throttling hand around her neck. The message was clear. Don’t make a noise. She attempted to nod. The pressure on her neck was gently released, and Quinn took in some much-needed deep breaths.
Elias waited at the end of her bed as she got up, putting on some clothes and pulling her hair back in to a loose knot. She spared a glance for Neyv’s bed. She was sleeping soundly, snoring like a pig on its back in a pen. She shook her head. Elias must have moved like a shadow. That would take a lot of learning for a man his size. How wasted he was on Sammah.
She fondled the soreness around her neck all the way to the familiar chambers. She imagined the fingermarks being pronounced, the bruising they would have caused raising questions from her siblings the next day. It was Sammah, she would tell them casually he’s a brute, and I’m going to leave.
Sammah’s door was closed. In the antechamber sat her cloak and hood. Elias shoved them at her and in silent obedience, she closed the clasp and shrouded her face. Only when he was certain he couldn’t see her, did Elias open the door. Sammah’s room, by contrast, may as well have been on fire. There were candles in every sconce, across his table, even some on the floor. Sammah was in his chair, in its usual spot. In the middle of the room was a man Quinn had seen many times, but hadn’t met before now. It was Alec, the heir apparent of Lord Broc of Broadwater. Even if he hadn’t had an eye that was starting to go purple and a dribble of blood running from his nose, he would have still looked battered and petrified. Broc was an old man barely able to see past his nose and everyone knew that Alec ruled in all but name. That Sammah could treat a man of such standing with so much disdain—Quinn reflected that perhaps her wake-up call hadn’t been that bad.
“Ah, Satori. So glad you can join us. I have some questions for Alec here, and I don’t think he’s being entirely truthful. I need your help on gauging the situation, if you’d be so kind.”
“You’re joking, right? Sammah? I thought the Satori was a myth? You know, a threat? You don’t have someone that can…there’s no way you can…”
“There is. I can. You will tell me the truth Broc, whether you want to or not. You can’t hide it from me. I want to know what you and Shiver have been plotting. I’ve already caught his filthy little spy. He’s managed to give me the slip by actually attending the meeting. You don’t get that honour though, do you? You’re not a ruler, not yet. Such a shame, seeing as you’re the one that Shiver is actually colluding with, for you to be left so vulnerable. Not even any men looking after you?”
“I had two guards in my rooms. Where they are now, remains to be seen.”
Despite herself, Quinn searched for and found the feelings behind the words. Broc was angry. He had also been torn from his bed in the dead of night. Why would he be pleased about that? But the anger was agitated. It was likely that he was telling the truth.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know. I’d ask my messenger, but alas and alack, he can’t speak.”
Quinn stopped herself just short before she absentmindedly reached out to Sammah. Quinn didn’t want to experience that much pain again. Sammah looked towards her, looking for her opinion on proceedings so far. She gave an exaggerated nod so that Sammah would see the gesture from underneath her hood. So far, Broc was not lying. She was intrigued as to what he was supposed to not be lying about, but she had never before been present when Sammah had been s
peaking with one of his noble friends. She had never before appreciated just how unpleasant he may come across to others. Her adoptive father was not a man that to be trifled with.
“Now Broc, let’s not mess around here. Shiver covets the throne, and he always has done. Your father doesn’t know where to find his arse any more, but you, you’re an ambitious boy and you’ve never hidden that. Who else to ride with but Shiver? He’s getting older, and he’s keeping himself alive on the old war stories he’s repeated over the fires for the last fourteen summers. Shiver can do all the hard work, and you’ll be right behind him to stab him in the back as soon as the throne comes free. Am I right?”
Broc looked panicked. He stared at the ground, outright refusing to look at Quinn, as if avoiding eye contact would negate any ability she had to sense his feelings. The tension in the room was unbearable. Quinn resisted the urge to fidget. The Satori, in the eyes of Everfell, did not fidget. Eventually, Broc looked up.
“What do you want me to do?”
His voice was tired. He sounded like exactly what he was; a caught and cornered man, trying to work his way desperately out of a trap. Quinn was stunned. Broc had really been working with Shiver to take the throne? Was this what Sammah needed her for? Her heart buoyed. She would have no problem being a part of this. She would do everything within her power to help Sammah keep King Vance in his rightful place. This feeling quickly changed to a sickened knot in the pit of her stomach when, with a fluid swing, Elias stepped forward and smashed a club in to the back of the young noble’s head. Broc crumpled to the ground without a noise, though Quinn couldn’t hold back her own scream. Elias turned to her and she backed towards the door in fright. The mute had turned from a silent guardian into a creature to be feared. She knew that he must have fought people. He was a hired mercenary. He had killed during the wars. But to strike down an unprotected man—a noble—and Sammah being the one to give that order. Quinn was suddenly very scared for her life. Her heart pounded in her chest, her legs turning leaden underneath her when all she wanted to do was turn from the room and run.
