by Lara Morgan
‘You’re thinking of your sister,’ Rorc said. ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’
‘No.’
‘But you suspect.’ Rorc leaned closer. ‘Did you know she was going to leave?’
He could not lie. ‘I thought she might.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’ Rorc’s tone was layered with anger and suspicion. ‘Where do you think she’s gone, Tallis?’
‘Somewhere on Sabut’s order. I thought it was to find the Four, but …’
‘Azoth?’ said Rorc.
‘She wouldn’t betray us,’ Tallis said quickly. ‘There must be a reason.’
‘Why didn’t you stop her?’
Tallis shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at his father, willing him to understand, but the older man’s expression was doubtful.
‘Last time she went with him she released the Stone, Tallis.’
‘That was not her choice. He forced her and it almost killed her. She would not help him.’
Rorc looked as though he was going to say something more when Hashmael joined them. The big man’s face was set in hard lines as he said, ‘You have news?’
Rorc handed him the message. ‘Our young Guardian is attempting to broker peace with the Free Lands. We may have a bigger army than we thought, if she’s successful.’
Tallis noted he didn’t mention that he didn’t think she would be.
‘We cannot plan for ifs,’ Hashmael said. ‘We must plan with what we know — and there is little of that.’
‘We know the Fallen is coming,’ Rorc said. ‘We know he must come from between the coast and the Black Mountains. He cannot enter these lands.’
‘We think that is what we know anyway,’ Hashmael grunted. ‘But we don’t know when.’
‘Balkis will send us word when he hears from his scout.’
‘I’m sure Azoth’s army hasn’t left his city yet,’ Tallis said, and Hashmael turned to him.
‘And why would you think that?’
‘You know why,’ Rorc said, an edge to his voice.
‘But I would like to understand better,’ Hashmael replied. ‘If he is kin to my blood, I deserve to know more.’
‘There is no if.’
‘You’re right,’ Hashmael said. ‘What he lacks in physical resemblance he makes up for in his ability to keep his own counsel. Like his father, he always knows more than he tells and is adept at not giving things away. Well.’ Hashmael eyed Tallis. ‘Maybe not quite as adept.’ His close look made Tallis uncomfortable.
‘In that we are all alike then,’ Rorc said. ‘Perhaps it runs in the blood.’
Hashmael’s mouth lifted at one corner. ‘Certainly true. We are men of the Baal, we suffer no one to know our secrets.’ He looked at Tallis again. ‘Why do you think Azoth has not left his city? How do you know so much?’
‘Are you asking me where my loyalties lie?’ Tallis said.
Hashmael raised his eyebrows. ‘If I doubted that, you would be dead already.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Tallis said, and the big man’s lips quirked.
‘No, you are right, but …’ His smile faded. ‘You claim connection to a god who seeks to enslave or destroy us. In my place, would you not question as I do?’
‘Perhaps,’ Tallis said.
‘Tell me, then, how you know Azoth has not advanced.’
‘Because he would be bringing an army of serpents,’ he said. ‘And once they cross the mountains I will sense them. I cannot explain how, I just can.’
‘The same way you feel some connection to your sister?’ Hashmael said, and Tallis flicked a look at Rorc, who only shook his head slightly. It had not been him who had revealed that.
‘The Baal Dreamer sensed it,’ Hashmael said.
‘I didn’t see her at your camp,’ Rorc replied.
‘She stays in her tent at gatherings, prefers her own company — like your sister.’ Hashmael scratched his cheek and eyed Tallis. ‘Where is she, by the way?’
‘She has been sent away by the Guides,’ Rorc answered. ‘Would you question them as well, second father?’ His tone was dry but not without an edge, and Hashmael handed him back the scrap of parchment.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘the other leaders have requested a conference of war.’
‘We should muster our warriors, then,’ Rorc said. ‘I will speak to Miram.’
Hashmael nodded. ‘The others have already sent word back to their clans. As the Baal has the most hidden Well, I have offered sanctuary to all the clans’ children, the elders and those women who cannot fight.’
‘You’ve met today already?’ Rorc said. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘Because we are not sure yet how to place you.’ Hashmael’s words were blunt. ‘But you must join our war conference.’
‘I’m moved,’ Rorc said, ‘considering it is my army you join.’
‘Do not judge the others so harshly, second son. They know very little about you.’
‘And judge me anyway,’ Rorc said.
‘Perhaps, but this is your chance to prove them wrong.’
‘I didn’t come here to change any minds regarding me,’ Rorc replied. ‘I’m here with an offer to lead them to war and they will either accept that or not.’
Hashmael had a shrewd look in his eye. ‘I will say they’ll accept,’ he said. ‘Come, the women have already brewed enough nonyu for a hundred.’
The conference for war was held in the tent of the Baal. Sitting on the floor on large flat cushions and thick woven rugs, the assembled leaders of the Clans and their chief warriors talked for most of the morning. Rorc sat among them leading many of the discussions, while Tallis sat at the back near the tent entrance. The last thing he wanted was to be under more scrutiny. Regardless of what Miram had said, he still did not feel he was accepted by his clan, much less by any of the others.
The leaders discussed how many warriors they could bring to the fight and the logistics of travelling so far with so many across the desert. By midday it had been decided the Jalwalah would head toward the southern border of the Clan Lands, meeting up with the Baal and Raknah as they crossed the others’ territories, and the Shalneef and Halmahda would follow behind. It would mean the Clans’ army would arrive at Hunters Scarp in staggered groups, but Hashmael and Rorc were sure it would work better and save time doing it that way.
Having no experience with battle strategy, Tallis sat and listened and, when the mid-meal was brought in, took his chance to go outside for some air. The day was still, the band of cloud that had been on the horizon now gone to leave only pale, empty sky.
‘Still talking?’ Mailun met him as he walked back through the tents to the Well. She had been visiting some women of the Shalneef.
‘They will probably be at it all day,’ he said as she fell into step beside him.
‘Have you felt where Shaan is?’ Her voice was strained.
‘No.’
She nodded but he knew her mind was not eased. He could not tell her where he thought Shaan had gone.
‘Where is Irissa?’ he said, more to distract her than anything.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know — the springs, perhaps. Are you sure Shaan didn’t tell you where she was going?’
Tallis sighed, wishing he could tell her more. ‘I don’t know, Mother, I told you.’
‘Perhaps Shila knows,’ Mailun murmured.
‘You could ask,’ Tallis said, and Mailun made an impatient gesture with her hand.
‘She would not tell me if the Guides told her not to,’ she said.
‘Or she doesn’t know,’ Tallis said, and earned a sharp look. They walked for a while in silence, emerging from the tents at the entrance to the Well.
‘What have they decided in there?’ Mailun said as they stepped from the hot sun into the cooler shadow of the cavern.
‘All the clans’ warriors are going,’ he said, and his mother snorted softly.
‘I’m surprised they could agree with all
the years of infighting between them.’ She shook her head. ‘It will not be an easy journey. I hope Hashmael is as strong as he appears; it will be difficult to keep the Raknah, especially, from the Baal’s throats.’
Tallis nodded. The Baal and the Raknah had been fighting on and off for as long as anyone could remember over water, over territory, over women.
‘There’s Irissa.’ Mailun’s voice broke into his thoughts. The younger woman was walking alone on the far side of the great cavern.
‘You should go to her,’ she said. ‘Stop this fighting.’
‘We’re not fighting,’ Tallis replied.
‘Don’t be stubborn, son.’ Mailun pushed him in Irissa’s direction. ‘Go and speak with her. Who knows what will happen in this war. Perhaps your chances will be few.’ Her tone was hard, unhappy, her face drawn in severe lines. She looked older, her eyes full of grim speculation, and he thought how hard it must be for her to find a daughter only to have her disappear.
‘Have you upset your mother again?’ Irissa said as he approached. She had stopped to wait by the entrance of the tunnels to the hot springs. Her stance was far from friendly.
‘She’s not upset with me,’ Tallis replied. ‘She’s upset about the war, and about Shaan.’ He pointed to the tunnel. ‘Were you going to the springs?’
‘Why else would I have this?’ She held up a drying cloth. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at the war conference?’
‘I don’t think they like me being there,’ he said.
‘No, I don’t suppose they would.’
He suddenly found he’d run out of things to say. She obviously didn’t want him there.
‘I’ll leave you to bathe then,’ he said, and began to leave, but she reached out a hand and stopped him.
‘Wait.’ She looked at him with frustration. ‘Is that all you have to say? You’re just going to walk away?’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I watched you almost die, Tallis, and you behave as if it was nothing.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She smiled bitterly. ‘Yes, you keep saying that, but it’s only words.’
He didn’t know what else to say, or why she was so angry. ‘Ris —’
‘Don’t call me that,’ she said, and her eyes gleamed with sudden irritation. He didn’t know what to do. His mother had said Irissa loved him, that she was only angry at herself, but it felt as though right now she was mostly angry with him.
‘If I could give my life to bring Jared back, I would,’ he said.
‘And why would you think I would want that? Do you think I would rather you were dead? Or that Jared would want that?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘No, you don’t.’ She looked at him as if he could not possibly understand. ‘I have lost my only brother, Tallis. Why would you think I could stand losing you as well?’ A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. ‘You are so eager for death, you don’t see the life you could have!’
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned away from him. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘just go away.’
But he didn’t move. He had never seen Irissa cry and he had known her all his life. It made something move inside him, a rush of feeling, a realisation.
‘Ris.’ He put a tentative hand on her shoulder. She flinched away. ‘Ris, please …’ But she didn’t turn around. He stood close behind her. She was so familiar, the spice and dust scent of her, but since seeing her again in Salmut things felt different. Knowing what she felt for him had changed how he saw her. She was no longer only his earth brother’s sister.
‘I’m sorry, Ris,’ he whispered, daring to put his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his palms. He took in a long breath and sensed her, hesitant, waiting. ‘We have to go to war, Ris. I can’t —’
‘War!’ She carried the word on a release of breath as she turned and pushed him away with a violent thrust. ‘You love your serpents and death more than me!’ Her face was hard, beautiful in her fury. ‘Go to your war, but I am coming as well. You still owe me a debt.’ And she walked away into the tunnels.
Chapter 41
Shaan stood in the bedchamber, holding on to the pendant around her neck. The room Azoth had given her was spacious and comfortable. The bed was piled with cushions and dressed in silk. Couches provided places to rest and there was an array of dresses that had materialised as if he’d been waiting for her to wear them. Some of them seemed very old, made of a material she had never seen. She didn’t want to know whose they had been.
‘Please, you must put this on.’ The older slave woman was holding out a violet-coloured dress. She was slight and dark skinned, perhaps Mailun’s age, but her eyes looked much older.
‘What happened to my clothes?’ Shaan asked. Azoth had sent her with the woman and one other to a bathing pavilion soon after she’d arrived, and she now wore nothing but a thin wrap.
‘They were too dirty,’ the woman said, ‘and he wants you to wear these.’ She held out the dress again. ‘Please, do as I ask.’
Shaan went over to her. From the sitting room adjoining the bedchamber came the sound of glass tinkling as the other woman organised a tray of food and drink. She picked up the skirt of the dress. It was long, sleeveless and designed to reveal one shoulder, the skirt adorned with amber-coloured beads that caught the light.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked the slave.
‘I have no name now, mistress.’ The woman kept her eyes downcast.
‘I’m not your mistress.’
‘You are his, so you are ours.’ Her expression was closed, cautious.
‘I’m not his,’ Shaan said. ‘I came for …’ She stopped. What could she say? Why would this woman believe her when she had seen her welcomed so readily by Azoth?
‘I’m sorry, for what’s happened to you,’ she said instead.
The woman did not look at her. ‘Would you like help dressing?’
Shaan sighed. ‘No.’ Her hand went again to the pendant. She didn’t want to wear it in front of Azoth, but she didn’t want to take it off.
The woman pointed to a small wooden chest. ‘There are undergarments in there,’ she said quietly, ‘and food and drink prepared for you. We will be back at sunset to take you to him.’ Without waiting for a response she left, her bare feet making barely any noise on the polished stone floor.
Shaan put on the dress and went out into the sitting room. There was no door to the balcony, only a wide opening that let in the damp scent of the jungle and she walked through it and stood leaning on the stone ledge. She was at the rear of the palace, facing out toward a courtyard and the back wall. Over the stone was only thick jungle. The rain had ceased and a flock of birds was calling somewhere among the trees, and then came the heavy sound of serpent wings beating the air, and a long shadow fell over the balcony for a moment as several of the creatures passed overhead. Faintly she could hear the clash and ring of steel and the guttural shouts of warriors training. She put her hand around the pendant and felt terribly alone. She could not feel Tallis at all anymore, his essence blocked by the mountains, but the sense of the Birthstone was strong. Her left hand prickled and she heard its hum inside her almost as strongly as she felt Azoth’s presence, as if he were only just outside her door. Doubts again filled her mind about her ability to do what Sabut wanted. Why would Azoth listen to her? He was so powerful now he had the Stone.
The women came for her as the pink stain of sunset began to spread across the sky. Shaan had taken off the pendant and hidden it in the wooden chest.
The women led her down wide stone stairs and out into a rain-soaked courtyard, the stones glimmering in the wet as Scanorians scuttled around the perimeter, lighting torches. They crossed to another larger building that rose three storeys above the ground. From the other side of it came the sound of many feet striking stone, and as they approached a staircase a host of serpents swooped in from the jungle at her back. Her heart leaped in fear. The
re were too many to count, filling the sky with the sound of their wings. The air beat down at her, sweeping her dress back against her body as they passed close above her head. A whispered chorus of Arak-si hissed through her mind, bringing an unexpected pain. Clutching her head she pushed them away, her breathing harsh.
The older woman was watching, her expression a mixture of wariness and concern. Behind her the younger slave woman looked frightened.
Struggling to recover herself, Shaan motioned for them to go on and followed them up the stairs and down another wide hallway to a set of large wooden double doors strengthened with steel. The women left her there and she pushed open one of the heavy doors and entered a large room lit by the soft glow of yellow-hued lamps. Like her sitting room it opened onto a long balcony of stone, but it was three times the size.
Azoth was waiting, dressed all in black: a sleeveless sheer silk shirt and loose black trousers.
He smiled and held out a hand to her. ‘Shaan, come here.’
She hesitated. His gaze reached across the space between them so that she found it difficult to look anywhere but at him. She took a step into the room, then another, and then a sound made her stop. She saw a person lying near his feet on the floor — a small woman with dark hair.
Alterin. A muscle contracted inside her.
‘Yes, it is her,’ Azoth said quietly. ‘We were having a … discussion.’
Alterin rolled slowly to sitting and looked at her. She was a different woman from the one who had helped her months before. She looked smaller, beaten down. Her cheek was cut and the urge to heal surged in Shaan’s chest.
‘Why is she hurt?’ she said, trying to keep her voice even. He could not be allowed to know how seeing Alterin like this pained her.
‘She defied me,’ Azoth said, then gazed down at Alterin. ‘You should not have. I don’t like hurting you.’
‘I was not defying you,’ Alterin said softly, ‘I was only surprised by your … guest.’
Her dark eyes went to Shaan and the look in them was damning.
‘Your only concern should be with what I ask of you,’ Azoth replied, and his voice dropped, gaining an edge of threat, ‘or do you seek to risk the life you hold in your palm?’
