The Diamond Isle

by Stan Nicholls

  Kutch looked on in something approaching adoration. And Wendah looked happy for him.

  ‘The fighting’s nowhere near over,’ Caldason reminded them soberly. ‘Not to mention that meld’s still on the loose. Let’s get out of here in good order, and keep your weapons handy. Kutch, Wendah, you stick close.’

  They trooped past Bastorran’s body and to the door. On the way, Varee picked up a discarded horse blanket and draped it around his shoulders against the cold.

  Things were a lot quieter outside. The invaders had been repelled, just, and at a dreadful cost in lives. Islanders were mopping up the last pockets of fighters. Most were being forced into a retreat through the gates, or back over the walls. Kordenza was nowhere to be seen, and was presumably among them.

  Caldason couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened with the sword he carried, and what Kutch had said about it. He walked on, leaving the brothers and Wendah behind in their slow-moving, engrossed huddle.

  Darrok swooped in on his flying dish. ‘Good to see you, Reeth.’

  Caldason returned the greeting distractedly.

  ‘Thanks for saving my woman,’ Darrok added gratefully. ‘Look at that,’ he went on before Reeth could respond. He pointed at a corpse half immersed in a horse trough. The man wore pirate clothing. ‘More of Vance’s men siding with the empires.’ It was obviously a running sore for him.

  ‘Something should be done,’ Caldason replied mordantly.

  Darrok was in a mood to take that literally. ‘You bet something should be done. And I’m the one to do it, given the debt I owe the swine.’

  Caldason kept walking, leaving Darrok to stare at his back before gliding away. He went to one of the walls, clear of invaders now, and found a little stretch of his own. The soldiers they’d driven out were jogging towards an army massing on the plain. A force bigger than the entire rebel population of the Diamond Isle, and with more arriving. He knew that everything up to now had been a skirmish.

  Wendah came and stood beside him. ‘They want to be together,’ she explained. ‘They don’t need me there.’ It was said without rancour. She took in the scene. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’ He was thinking of Serrah. All he wanted was to be with her, and that was the next thing he was going to do.

  ‘You have the power,’ Wendah reminded him. ‘Use it to help us.’

  He was going to deny it, but heard himself say, ‘I don’t know how.’

  32

  It had been profound, frightening and awe-inspiring, and it wasn’t over yet.

  The ramp was slow leaving Serrah’s system, and it was beginning to outstay its welcome. She certainly could have done without it while trying to assist a birth.

  But now Tanalvah’s baby was born. It was a boy, and apparently healthy.

  The same couldn’t be said for his mother.

  The birth had been long and difficult, with Tanalvah lacking stamina, and seemingly the will to get through it. Only when they reminded her that the child’s well-being was at stake did things improve. But birthing took a terrible toll on her. She endured great discomfort, with no painkiller except a few sips of brandy, and there had been copious blood loss. Serrah and Kinsel did their best without the help of a midwife or healer, and finally they got her settled down, but Tanalvah was far from well.

  Fortunately, Teg and Lirrin didn’t have to witness her ordeal. Kinsel had managed to persuade one of the older women to look after them in her quarters nearby.

  The whole experience had been made even more fraught by the realisation that the invaders could break through at any time. Sounds of fighting and destruction had been a constant backdrop to Tan’s labour. But now, thank goodness, things had quietened considerably, though everyone knew it was just the calm before the storm.

  As soon as the baby was born, Serrah had taken him into a little washroom that comprised part of their quarters, to check that he was hale. She didn’t want any unpleasantness in front of Tanalvah, who was distressed enough. Now she was gently bathing the newborn. It brought back sweet memories of Eithne as a baby, and other recollections, less happy.

  Kinsel came through from the room where Tanalvah had given birth. His face showed a mixture of emotions, but the moment he saw the child he was nothing but misty-eyed. ‘Is he well?’

  ‘He seems to be fine.’

  ‘I don’t know how we can ever thank you, Serrah. If it hadn’t been for you–’

  ‘Forget it.’ She nodded at the bundle she cradled. ‘It was worth it.’

  ‘She wants to see him.’

  ‘Good. I’d be worried if she didn’t. We’re just about done here. Aren’t we, darling?’ she cooed at the babe. ‘Here, go to daddy.’

  ‘Oh.’ Kinsel accepted the child gingerly, then beamed at it.

  ‘Typical man. Don’t worry, it won’t break.’

  His smile faded. ‘I’m not sure we can say the same about Tan.’

  ‘No improvement?’

  ‘I think she’s a little worse. As far as her state of mind’s concerned, that is.’

  ‘She’s still in pretty bad physical shape, too. Once I got a proper look at her I was shocked at how much she’s been neglecting herself. But I’m hoping we’ll be able to find a healer this morning and–’

  ‘No. I mean yes, her physical state worries me, of course it does. But right now I’m more concerned about some of the things she’s been saying.’ He was clearly very troubled.

  ‘She has been coming out with some nonsensical stuff lately, it’s true. But it’s likely she’s feverish after what she’s been through.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s just that. This is more specific.’

  ‘You mean this fixation she has about confessing?’

  ‘Yes. I’m starting to think she might really have something she needs to get off her chest.’

  ‘We know that Tan killed a violent client over in Rintarah. But she has no reason to feel guilty about that. It was self-defence.’

  ‘It’s not that she’s been referring to.’

  ‘What, then?’

  The baby began to cry.

  ‘He’s got his dad’s lungs,’ Serrah said. ‘It’s all right, he just needs feeding. I’m not sure Tan’s up to it though. I’ve got some milk here. We can warm it for him.’

  ‘I’ll do that and bring it through.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘I’m a father now, I’ve got to learn these things. Here.’ He gave back the baby. ‘I think you’d better go in.’

  In Serrah’s arms, the child calmed down almost immediately. She found Tanalvah looking as white as the fresh sheets Kinsel had put on her bed, but her bleak expression brightened when she saw the baby.

  ‘Here he is,’ Serrah announced cheerfully, trying to lift the tone.

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s a fit, beautiful little boy, Tan. Can you manage?’ She gently lowered the baby into her arms.

  Tanalvah gazed at her son with the adoration of a new mother, but there was an evident sadness in her expression, too. She kissed the child and whispered soft endearments.

  Kinsel arrived with the milk. He’d poured it into a small pottery flask with a teat made from a twist of spongy wool.

  ‘Let’s see that,’ Serrah said. She shook a few drops of the milk onto the back of her hand. The improvised teat worked pretty well. ‘Fine, and it’s not too hot. I can see you’re going to be good at this.’

  Giving them some privacy for their baby’s first feed, she went back to the washroom. Filling a bowl from a jug of tepid water, she washed her face. She was exhausted. A lack of sleep, taking narcotics, and a big expenditure of emotional energy really took it out of you, she had discovered. But she dared to hope that things might improve with Tanalvah now she had the baby to hold.

  Serrah was towelling herself dry when Kinsel came back in.

  ‘Can you come, please? I need you.’ His tone and looks invited no argument. Serrah tossed the towel asid
e and followed him.

  Tanalvah still had the baby, but she was trying to hold it away from herself. She appeared physically worse than she had ten minutes before.

  ‘What’s this?’ Serrah asked. ‘Are you tiring?’ It was an absurd question. Tanalvah was patently shattered. But it wasn’t that.

  ‘I don’t deserve him,’ she said. ‘I’m not worthy.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘You’ll think so too, when you know.’

  Serrah could see that Tan’s arms must be aching from the effort of pushing away her son, not to mention the stress she was subjecting herself to. So she took the child and handed him to Kinsel, who tiptoed to the other side of the room and laid him in a cot someone had found for them.

  Meanwhile, Serrah perched on the side of the bed. ‘Now what’s this nonsense about you not being worthy of your son, for the gods’ sake?’

  ‘It’s the way it is, Serrah. He’d be tainted by me.’

  ‘Look, Tan, I know some mothers feel down in the dumps after they give birth, but it passes. There’s no way your boy’s going to be tainted by you or anything else except loved.’

  Tanalvah laughed. There was absolutely nothing joyful or amused about it. It was weak and cynical and despairing. ‘You wouldn’t make excuses if you knew what I–’

  ‘And what is it we should know?’ Serrah was fatigued enough to be feeling irritable, and starting to show it, despite her sympathy. ‘You keep hinting, Tan, but you’re not telling us. What is it that’s so terrible? Please, tell us, and let us be the judge of how awful you think you are.’

  ‘It’s about the great betrayal.’ She spoke low, almost in a whisper.

  ‘Did something happen to you at that time, darling?’ Kinsel asked kindly. ‘Something bad?’

  ‘You could say that.’ Her eyes moved to Serrah. ‘You vowed to kill the traitor, didn’t you?’

  ‘Damn right I did.’

  ‘Well…go ahead.’

  ‘You’re not making sense, Tan.’

  ‘You can honour your vow, Serrah.’

  ‘Karr told me somebody called Mijar Kayne was suspected,’ Kinsel offered.

  ‘A Righteous Blade man. He’s supposed to be dead.’

  ‘But if you know better, Tan,’ Serrah put in, ‘if you’ve seen him alive somewhere or–’

  ‘Listen to me,’ Tanalvah demanded, ‘both of you. I’m the traitor.’

  There was a moment of silence, then Kinsel responded, ‘That’s in poor taste for a joke, my dear.’

  ‘It was me,’ she repeated.

  Serrah and Kinsel exchanged concerned glances.

  ‘Why would you do such a thing?’ he said.

  ‘For you, my love, and for the children. For all of us as a family. I thought I’d be saving life, not taking it.’ She broke into a coughing fit. Kinsel held a mug of water for her to drink from, his hand at her nape. The drink seemed to help.

  ‘How did you do it?’ Serrah wanted to know.

  ‘I went to the clans. Eventually I got to see Devlor Bastorran. I gave him a little information, to let him know I had the connections. He didn’t take much convincing.’

  ‘What did you expect to get in return?’

  ‘Kinsel. I wanted him back from that terrible galley. Bastorran said he could do it. And he told me nobody would come to harm if I told him things about the Resistance, so I did. But he lied.’

  ‘How could you expect him to do anything else?’

  ‘Just a minute, Serrah,’ Kinsel interrupted. ‘You’re not taking this seriously, are you?’

  She didn’t reply. Her instinct was to say, No, it’s insane. Tan would never dream of doing such a thing. However, she was starting to think the unthinkable.

  ‘Come on,’ Kinsel pleaded, ‘this is hysteria or something.’

  ‘It was a terrible, terrible mistake,’ Tanalvah said, ‘and I’ll burn in hell for it.’ There was the shadow of enormous weariness on her face.

  ‘You’re asking us to believe something incredible about you,’ Serrah remarked.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be even more incredible if I made up something like this?’

  For Serrah, that was close to being the clincher, but there was another possibility. ‘You’ve been sick, and under a lot of pressure. How do we know it isn’t your illness talking?’

  ‘Because this is a deathbed confession, Serrah.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Kinsel mocked, not entirely convincingly. ‘Isn’t it, Serrah? It’s rubbish. You’re just run down.’

  On a hunch, Serrah reached out to the sheet covering the bed. Tanalvah didn’t try to stop her. Their eyes locked, and Serrah saw something of the old Tan there. Serrah pulled back the sheet.

  ‘My gods, no,’ Kinsel gasped. He involuntarily looked away.

  The bed was soaked through with blood, as was Tanalvah’s nightgown. Serrah looked on in horror. She didn’t know where to start, what to do.

  ‘Now do you believe me?’ Tanalvah said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘You didn’t say. If you’d told us you were losing blood again we might have been able to help you. Gods, Tan, we were standing here talking to you, and all the while…’

  ‘I’m beyond help in this world.’ The strength was going out of her.

  ‘We have to get a healer,’ Kinsel said.

  ‘Kinsel…’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that, Serrah. What do you know about it? You’re not a doctor.’

  ‘No, but I’m a fighter. I’ve seen blood loss before.’

  ‘We can’t just–’

  ‘Kinsel,’ Tanalvah whispered.

  Kneeling, he grasped her hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘My love.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, dear.’

  ‘As far as we’re concerned, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.’

  ‘You are the most wonderful man a woman could have. I treasure every moment we spent together. Take my love to Lirrin and little Teg. Don’t let them all grow up hating me.’

  ‘That I can promise you.’

  ‘Forgive me, Kin.’

  ‘I forgive you. I forgive you and I love you. I love you…so much.’ The tears flowed freely now.

  Tanalvah’s eyes seemed to be unfocused, as though she gazed at a scene they couldn’t see. But in an undertone she distinctly said, ‘Forgive me, Serrah. Forgive me, if only for being a fool.’

  Serrah didn’t move or speak. Kinsel looked up at her.

  ‘Her time’s short,’ he said, as though imploring.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered.

  ‘Do this one last thing for her, Serrah. Please.’

  ‘You’re telling me that my friend, your woman, was responsible for untold deaths of people we knew, but that I should forgive her?’

  ‘Try to imagine how I feel. She did it for me.’ He almost couldn’t go on. ‘The suffering can’t be undone. But how does making her death even more miserable put right any of the wrongs?’ Big teardrops were running down his cheeks. ‘We have little enough power in this world. The one thing we have in our command is forgiveness.’

  ‘It’s so hard. I’ve lived in hatred of the traitor. I swore they’d die if it was up to me. But to find out it was…’ She gave way to sobbing herself, hands to her face.

  ‘I know. But I’ll say it again: we’ve only one gift to give her that means anything.’

  Serrah nodded, sniffing. She moved to kneel by the bed, alongside him. ‘Tan? Tan?’

  Her eyes had been closed. Now they fluttered open. She recognised Serrah, and smiled. ‘Don’t cry. There have been enough tears shed on my account.’ With some trepidation, she asked, ‘Do I have your forgiveness?’

  ‘I can’t give you absolution. That’s for a higher authority. But, yes, I…I forgive you.’

  Tanalvah looked to Kinsel, her smile broader. Neither of them spoke.

  The light started to leave her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her. And when he lifted his lips from hers, she was dead.

  Kinsel and Serrah stayed wh
ere they were for what seemed like a long time. Until the new baby cried and roused them.

  Grief had subsided to some kind of numbness, and Serrah did her best to get things organised for Kinsel. He was crushed, and for a moment she had the irrational fear that he might decide to join his lover in death. But it took no more than a reminder of the children to stiffen his resolve.

  Serrah thought how tough it had been on Teg and Lirrin. To lose their natural mother was bad enough. To go on and lose their adoptive one was indescribably awful. For the second time in their young lives they were going to be told something that would break their hearts. She didn’t envy Kinsel’s task.

  She comforted him a little by telling him that at least they had a kind, decent, loving father. But they both chose to ignore the fact that even this could be in doubt once the empires’ armies took the island.

  Serrah found him and the children new quarters deeper in the redoubt. The rooms weren’t as big as the ones they were leaving, but the set-up was more communal, and there would be people about to help and distract. It was considerably safer, too. She made sure Lirrin and Teg would be waiting, and she accompanied Kinsel there. He carried a couple of bags of possessions, she held the baby. She left him with the children clustering around the good news of the newborn, preparatory to the bad.

  Her promise to Kinsel was that she would go back and lay out Tan decently. She’d also try to rustle up a priest and a burial detail, though that wasn’t going to be easy in the middle of a war. Apart from that, there were a few things he wanted from the apartment, but couldn’t face going for himself.

  This was all in her mind as she trudged the endless corridors. And Reeth, of course. It felt like an age since they had last seen each other. She had no real fears about him being able to look after himself, but she longed to set eyes on him.

  That was the last coherent thought she had for a while.

  Reaching the section where the apartment was located, near one of the fortress’s external walls, but still a brisk walk away, she turned a fateful corner.

  No sooner had she entered the corridor than it was bathed end to end in a flash of blinding light, followed soon after by an ear-splitting explosion.