by Dawn Peers
There was a bristling amongst the lords. Shiver shouted the answer to this. “You wanted power. More than you needed. More than you could handle.”
“Yes, that in part is true. But can you remember why the barons thought they deserved that power?”
“Because they…because they could do things that we could not.”
Sammah nodded. “They can. They still can. What these men are saying that this Satori can do, that power does exist. It is rare. Very few people in the history of Sha’sek have been born with this ability. There are documents of it, and I will ask for them to be sent here from our libraries, for you all to read if you like. Perhaps it is someone from Sha’sek behind this. But they are not under my employ. People born with that power, they are called empaths. They are wildly unpredictable, and notoriously uncontrollable. The empath that started the last war. His name was Nerren. He thought, because he knew the intentions of everyone around him, he had the best intentions of all of Sha’sek at heart when he went to war. He knew that everyone desired power. What he didn’t stop to consider, was what everyone thought of the consequences. Before anyone knew what had happened—what he was—it was far too late. We tried to stop the war as soon as we could, but Nerren had enough men loyal to him—in awe of his power—that we lost a lot of our own people trying to stop him.
It is said in these documents, that empaths are only born from a line where empaths have previously been blooded. If that is true, then this Satori may be the descendant of Nerren, and may be bent on bringing the war back to both our lands in vengeance for his ancestor’s death.
I will do everything within my power to stop this man from killing anyone from Everfell again. I promise you, my liege, everyone. This murder is not my will. It is not the will of Sha’sek. The Satori must be stopped.”
Sammah had held everyone entranced, even Quinn. She had thought her questions about her heritage had been answered, in the main. Now she had more questions for Sammah than she had ever had in her life. And he had felt confident enough to tell this room of strangers who her father might be, when he hadn’t even confided this to Quinn directly? Was he even telling the truth? She couldn’t tell any more, and she despaired that even trying to read Sammah’s intentions, since that would give her nothing but pain.
King Vance jumped from his seat, striding off the dais where the high table sat to confront Sammah in his low witness's chair. Sammah straightened his back, not glowering under the steel gaze of the king.
“Is this true? You think this myth is real?”
“I do your highness. With everything that has happened, I have little doubt. It would take someone of exceptional capabilities to be able to murder one such as Broc without being detected. It makes complete sense.”
Vance chewed on his lower lip, his eyes distant as he mulled over the words. The hollering and the catcalls of the watching crowd were now a distant memory. They were engrossed, waiting with baited breath to see how the king would react to the advice of his trusted ambassador.
“I believe you. Every man I have will begin the hunt for this criminal. This Satori must be stopped.”
A great cheer went up from the crowd; Quinn groaned inwardly. Sirah grinned like a triumphant snake, its body wrapping around a terrified mouse and its jaws opening for the final kill. Shiver rose to his feet and pumped his fist in the air, crowing like a boy in his first war. Sammah didn’t change his expression. He was, after all, a natural master at hiding his true feelings. Quinn couldn’t believe that her king could accept a story so readily that he would be willing to put the time and effort of all of his men in to catching this person. They would be chasing smoke. Sammah had already laid the groundwork in their minds; the Satori was constantly being referred to as a man, and she was anything but. What happened next, however, no one had been predicting. Eden leapt up from his seat with the other witnesses. Quinn was so surprised, that she immediately reached out to him to find out what he was feeling. He was excited, and angered. Sammah’s speech had utterly riled him.
“I will lead the search! I will lead the search for the Satori! Sevenspells will not see this kingdom under threat from anyone—or anything!”
Shiver leapt to his feet roaring with delight, as Rowan clapped slowly, clearly irate that his youngest brother was stealing the plaudits and attentions of the crowd. Quinn was crestfallen. All other sounds became muffled crashes in her ears as she stopped listening to the furore that ascended around her. The crowd was alive with bloodlust, and she was the object of their desire. What had Sammah done?
Quinn knew that her adoptive father was not going to protect her if she did not follow his words to the stroke of each careful letter. She felt exposed, threatened, and for the first time in her life, truly alone. Not even Maertn was going to be able to help her, when he found out that she could be descended from the man that had torn apart the Nine Kingdoms. No one would let her live, when they found out what she was. Sammah literally held her life in his hands. She was his. Quinn had no choice.
29
Quinn walked through the halls in a depressed haze. She had been excused from the courtroom, along with the rest of the commoners, whilst the nobles and their aides hashed out the formalities of the manhunt. They would need to know what resources were required, and what the young Eden, whom everyone seemed keen to thrust to the fore, needed to make sure the Satori was captured fast. A torrent was carrying them all away, and Quinn felt washed out in their wake. Was it just a matter of time before they found her? Was Sammah going to allow her to suffer the mental torture of waiting for the wrong man to be found, before handing her over to the king anyway? She had sensed something different in Eden, something that she had been desperate to get to know. Now, she didn’t see any way she could get close to him to find out. She was his enemy and, whether Eden knew it or not, he hated Quinn. She had felt that much. Amidst the angry reactions to the potential existence of the Satori, the feeling that had hurt the most was the hatred directed to something that was, to everyone there, completely unknown. Was it hatred, because the Satori was the perceived killer of one of their own? Or was the malice because the Satori was something different; someone with unfathomable ability, and therefore someone to be derided or feared, as events decided?
Sirah had instructed Quinn to go straight to Sammah’s suite and wait for him. Two silent bodyguards escorted her. She didn’t know who was in charge of them now Elias had been exiled to the quarries, but there was no danger of her running away from them. The courtroom exchanges had left Quinn exhausted. As soon as she reached the apartments, she folded herself up on a carpet near a cool brazier. One of the mercenaries made to set it alight. Before its warmth even began to reach her, Quinn was asleep. She didn’t dream. For that much peace, she was glad.
* * *
Someone gently rocked her awake. It wasn’t a malicious gesture. That would have been a kick, and she was certainly in a vulnerable enough position to have one of those aimed at her. People kicked dogs when they were curled up on the floor, and beggars when they were in the gutter. Why not her? Quinn had expected to see Maertn, but it was Sammah’s smooth features that greeted her when she opened her eyes. Looking up at her father, a man she had not so long ago adored, she felt inexplicably overburdened with sadness. To her surprise, Sammah crouched down next to her so that he could talk to her on her own level. He hadn’t been this amiable—this fatherly—to her for years.
“I’m sorry for what you just had to experience Quinn. Believe me, if there had been a different way to guide that courtroom, then I would have done it.”
Quinn didn’t believe Sammah as far as she could throw him, but she didn’t dare tell him that.
“What is paramount here, is to keep us all safe. I cannot be held accountable for anything that Elias may or may not have tried to do to you. It’s all for a greater good, you see. King Vance would have barely reacted to Broc’s death, if Shiver and I had not intervened. He doesn’t care about what happens to the succession in
Broadwater, so long as it happens. If he doesn’t care about what happens to his lords, why should he be allowed to rule? So I did what I could, and whilst yes, they are going to be looking for the Satori, they are not going to be looking for you at all. I have painted the picture they wanted. They want a monster. The Satori is going to be a big, vicious creature capable of tearing down the walls of trust built between the people of Sha’sek and Everfell, and starting kingdom-wide wars. What they won’t be expecting,” he cupped her chin and looked in to her eyes, “is a little girl that faints every time someone shouts at her too loudly.” Quinn blushed. Sammah’s eyes were nasty, beady, squinting as if to judge her. He continued. “The problem I have now, Quinn, is I know that you’re not that little girl anymore. You’re growing up. Your power is growing with you. You’re not overwhelmed by emotion any more. I knew that day would come. So what we have to do now—and carefully—is to make sure that no one notices this. It’s a sudden change. As sudden as if the king were to declare tomorrow that Everfell and Sha’sek were once again one kingdom. You have to start pretending, to everyone, including Maertn, that you are that vulnerable little girl again. In time, you can become the woman you already are. But until your naming ceremony next year, you are a witless, clumsy, fragile little girl that hardly anyone likes and that no one takes seriously. Do you understand me?”
Quinn nodded. She couldn’t talk past the lump in her throat, and she desperately wanted to wish away the tears that stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Her reaction to his bitter examination of her told Quinn that she was, indeed, what Sammah told her. It didn’t matter how her power was changing nor how she was growing up. She was vulnerable and she was weak, and now more than ever she would need Sammah in order to stay alive. Sammah nodded firmly. Quinn was a broken girl, and that was the way he preferred her. He couldn’t control Quinn if she had spirit. It had to be crushed, and stay that way.
Sammah stood, ignoring the silently sobbing girl that curled herself up again on his carpet. Sirah, standing by the doorway, gave a cruel curved smile. Sammah returned it, though he secretly noted that he would, at some point, also have to do something about this spiteful bitch that constantly considered herself above her station in his plans. Sirah had been interesting to him at first, and certainly enjoyable company in more ways than one, but she had no abilities to speak of, and brought him no enhancement in status or in wealth that he could not acquire from someone more beautiful both visually and internally. Sirah also knew that Quinn was the Satori, and from this point forward this made her a dangerous ally to have. Luckily, along with all of her other defects, Sirah was monumentally single-minded. This meant that, as long as Sammah pretended to have an interest in her, she would return this two-fold, so desperate was she to weave herself some power in life. As with many people that tried to stretch for something beyond their reach, this would be Sirah’s downfall. Quinn’s ruin would be that she didn’t know enough about what power she could have, if only she resolved to take it. In between both of them, Sammah would take and take from everyone weak enough to supplicate to him.
Eventually, he would take the throne. No one was clever enough, strong enough to stand in his way. Quinn had been the only one. Maertn, even, could be a threat if he even knew the smallest amount of power at his fingertips. No. Sammah’s control of the bastard Sha’sek children that had been left scattered around the kingdom after the end of the last war had been a masterful stroke. They would not be able to rise to confront him, and with Everfell not allowing any other Sha’sek citizens past its borders, there would be no one of his own kind to challenge him either.
Baron Sammah might only be a youngest son of a youngest son in his homeland, unable to inherit and incapable of fighting, but he was a cunning and patient man. A waiter, and a planner. It had taken him over a decade to carefully maneouvre his machinations to this point. He was so close to achieving his final goals that he was almost tempted to rush, to push forwards beyond what he had planned to snatch the throne that dangled so tantalisingly right in front of him. Only years of discipline; of deriding the weak and leeching from the strong, restrained him. Sammah knew, that to rush was to fail. This had been Sammen’s mistake, and his undoing. Sammah would learn from history. He wouldn’t tread those same roads. He would make his own route through the annals of Everfell, and the chapters they would write about him would be spectacular.
30
When Quinn had cried herself out, Sammah was gone. She had been left alone in his rooms, and night had long since fallen. Her cheeks were dry, but she could feel tightness on her skin where the salty tears had left their erratic trail. The brazier was cooling down. Even the mercenaries, ever-present in Sammah’s suites, had left her to her own devices.
“I’m not a threat to him.” Quinn whispered to herself. Was this a statement of fact, a realisation, or a challenge to herself? She repeated his words back to herself. Fragile. Witless. Clumsy. Maertn took her seriously. No matter what Sammah said to her in malicious confidence, he couldn’t take away the truth of that. He might like to throw his power around when he had her cornered, but what Sammah had to acknowledge was that, of the two of them, Quinn most certainly knew how people felt about her. What stung the most, was that the majority of what Sammah had said was right. Very few people in Everfell had considered her without derision, excluding Sammah. Maertn, obviously, was one. Ross was another. The only other addition to this exclusive collection was Eden. He had been the first, however, who had not judged her on sight. On the contrary, he had been curious, and appeared to have completely overlooked the fact that she seemed to involuntarily collapse whenever she was near him.
Quinn stood and smoothed down her clothes. She thought about going to draw herself a bath, or even risk going down to the communal bathing chambers. It was too late, though, and she still felt drained despite her sleep. The floor had left her stiff, she told herself, and the steam of the bathing chambers would help her to relax. Quinn had historically avoided the bathing chambers for the same reason she avoided everything and everyone in the castle. She didn’t want to be around people, because she already knew without wanting to know it, that people did not want to be around her. As she padded silently out of Sammah’s suites and through the halls, she knew that the bathing halls should be all but deserted. Only those that worked the night, like her, would be awake enough, or odd enough, to want to bathe at this kind of time. She hadn’t been instructed yet, by either Ross or Sammah, to return to her maid duties. Odd, too, that Sammah hadn’t yet challenged her about her attempt to leave the city. Still, if she had a chance of experiencing a night of silence, without being ordered around by the myriad of men in her life, she would take it. Quinn headed down to the bathing halls.
The halls appeared desolate as the candle boys didn’t bother lighting more than one in three of the candles down here after dark. The effect was spell-binding, or so Quinn thought. The walls down here were almost soft. The steam from the baths was constant, and mossy mildew had been growing here steadily over the long years. Quinn trailed her hand over one side of the wall, stroking the damp green quilting. It smelled fresh down here, too. You would expect it to smell rotten, or at least damp and stale. Sammah and Maertn had both tried to explain to her how the waters were a natural hot spring, and the earth herself refreshed the waters. Quinn hadn’t understood, and they had given up trying to tell her. Eventually the carefully laid stone gave way to natural rock, and the walls, still covered with their carpet of moss, led to a massive enclosed cavern. The cavern had existed long before a city even stood in Everfell, and Quinn was sure it would endure long after, too. It was a curious place. The bathing caverns made some feel ill at ease. Many said it wasn’t natural, for such a thing to just exist underground.
There were many stories explaining the caverns, beyond the convoluted explanation about mountains that spewed liquid fire and water movements given to her by Sammah and Maertn. Quinn much preferred these. Her favourite was the story of Indigo
, a warrior from Sha’sek who was famed for his bravery. Before the wars, when there had just been one country, before the Severed Desert had become the barren and desolate barrier it now was, Indigo had been a travelling prizefighter. He moved from town to town, fighting any that challenged him. He arrived in Everfell, as it had been back then, just a small collection of huts and villagers. The villagers lived in terror, it had been told, for a demon that came at night and stole their children. The demon lived in a cave and when they were taken, their screams could be heard at night, for miles around. Parents, robbed of their children and helpless to get them back, would cry themselves to sleep with what remained of their family, trying to block out the noise. Newlyweds were choosing to leave before having children. Everfell, as a village, was dying.
Quinn told herself the tale of Indigo as she removed her drab and dirty clothes, folding them gently and placing them at the side of the hot pool with care. Steam rose off the water. This time, as always, she dipped a toe in the water. At first, to her cold body, the water was stingingly hot. She crouched down on to one leg, dipping first her foot, then her shin, then her left leg up to the knee in the water. Happy that the rest of her body would be able to cope with the heat, she hopped off the side of the rock and into the luxurious waters. The feeling on her body was one of near-ecstasy. The water lapped at her skin and folded over her aching muscles, soothing her immediately. Quinn groaned quietly with relief, then became confused as she heard chuckling over her own voice. She floundered around in the water, unable to catch purchase on anything and so doing a creditable impression of a hooked fish. She finally slapped a hand back on the rocks and looked madly around the pool for the source of the noise. When she couldn’t see anything in her immediate vicinity, she tried squinting through the thin wisps of steam creating a constant mist just above the surface of the pool. There was someone in there with her. One person, and still she couldn’t avoid the mockery! Quinn was furious. Instead of lashing out with her voice, or struggling with her eyes, she went to the one sense she was gaining confidence in. Thinking on how she could possibly get a hold of someone if she couldn’t see them, she instead gave a mental push, like a fisherman would cast out a net to widen his catch. Quinn’s jaw dropped when this worked; she felt a tugging straight ahead of her. The emotion she felt though, wasn’t the malicious amusement she had felt before from Yvette, nor the detached scorn she felt from men like Sammah. It was happy, nearing joy. Quin almost ducked under the water to get away, to be anywhere but where she was right now. She had wanted to see Eden again, but not like this.
