The Dying Flame

by R L Sanderson

  She paused for a moment and reached out with her mind. She could sense no individual thoughts but there was a tension, unease tinged with fear, though not as great as she might have expected. The Palace had been taken by the Uruhenshi High Command. She steadied her mind and sensed for the horror, panic, anger. There were none of those things. Jexin’s speech must have made quite an impression, Orla thought, wondering whether it would be that easy for the Uruhenshi to win over the Court, to win over the people of the Archipelago.

  She began to walk, the tap tap tap of her footfalls on the marble floor echoing in the stillness. She passed open doors to the library, to one of the lesser halls, and though she did not glance, she sensed that each room was empty. At least there had been none of the burning of books or slashing of paintings that the Brethren had delighted in when they’d arrived in Ekenshi. But the Uruhenshi High Command, though loyal Uruhenshi, were not Brethren, Orla reminded herself. It was too easy to assume they were one and the same. The Brethren knew no subtlety, no strategy. The High Command did, and that made them even more dangerous.

  She turned a corner. Another empty corridor. It was beginning to be unnerving. She knew there were people somewhere, she could sense them. But was it possible that, while she had been in that strange darkness after Kendrid’s death, some had been permitted to flee? Might Roland have been mistaken, or have not known that the Palace had emptied out, like a tub when the plug is pulled, leaving only the King and his retinue?

  She shook off the thought.

  She was nearing the servants’ quarter now and still had not seen a sign of another living person. She peered through the outer windows as she passed them. It was a bright, clear day. The gardens shone in their lush greenness. Reflective pools sat clear and still, golden fish circling under the surface, just visible.

  Suddenly, she sensed something. Someone was coming. She wasn’t sure who but she knew instantly, as she felt the energy of anger and control they gave off, that she did not want to cross their path. She looked around quickly – she was not sure how much time she had. This ability she had was not exact in indicating distance or speed, just presence and proximity. There was a doorway to her right. Without thinking, she tried the handle and it opened and she stepped through. At first there was only darkness and quiet. She waited. Soon she could hear footsteps. She was sure now that it was a member of the Uruhenshi guard. They seemed to take a long time walking down the hallway, each step slow and deliberate. She waited, holding her breath, hoping they would not somehow discover her there. Was that hesitation? She slunk further from the door, deeper into the shadows. Then the steps continued and they passed and finally were gone.

  Chapter forty-seven

  The servants’ quarters were deathly quiet. She found the door and hesitated. She lent her ear against the wood and listened. There was no sound but there was someone in there, she knew without a doubt. She raised one hand and tapped, gently. There was no response. She looked up and down the corridor. Nobody was in sight. She would have to risk it. She tapped once more then whispered – ‘Mish, it’s me. Orla.’

  A moment later the door groaned open.

  The room was in darkness. Curtains were drawn, tamped down tight against the glass so that there was no visibility from outside of what was inside. The door was bolted after her.

  ‘Why have you come?’ Mishi whispered.

  ‘I wanted to see that you were safe,’ Orla said, though she knew Mishi didn’t believe her.

  ‘So, you risked your life and mine in order to find out?’

  ‘And I need your help.’

  Mishi indicated a bed. Orla sat. ‘Well,’ Mishi said, sighing. ‘I could use the company anyway. Awful quiet it is today.’

  ‘Tell me what you know about… about what’s happening.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The Uruhenshi coup, the King is held captive, the Council deliberate and have not yet stated their position…’

  ‘That’s all as you say it is,’ Mishi said. ‘I would think you’d know more than me.’

  ‘But what do people think about it? What do they want to happen? What do they plan to do?’

  She watched Mishi closely as the girl attempted to compose her face, to reveal no emotion. She reached out slightly, subtly, and felt – conflicted relief. Guilt and relief conjoined.

  ‘People will be loyal to the King for as long as there is one,’ Mishi said.

  ‘There is not talk of shifting alliances, of siding with the Uruhenshi?’

  ‘People talk of many things,’ she looked away.

  ‘This is not a test, Mishi. I just want to know what the mood is, what is likely to happen next. I think the reason there has been so little bloodshed so far is because Jexin believes he can win the Palace over. He sees the King’s weakness, the people’s confusion, and he promises certainty and action. He will not kill because it would not serve his purpose. He hopes that ultimately we will be on the same side. His side.’

  Mishi shrugged. ‘All I know is I’m staying in my room until I know it’s safe to come out. And that’s not yet.’

  ‘I need to speak with the Council,’ Orla said.

  ‘There will be no Council now, I wouldn’t think.’

  ‘I mean, I need to speak with the members, individually. But I don’t know how to find them. Can you help me?’

  ‘This is why you’ve come?’ Mishi asked.

  Orla nodded. No point in pretending otherwise.

  Mishi frowned. ‘You cannot be wandering the Palace, Orla. The guard will catch you. It’s not safe.’

  ‘I know,’ Orla felt sick at the thought of leaving the safety of this room, of stepping back out into those empty corridors. ‘But it’s what the King has commanded.’

  Chapter forty-eight

  Galed opened the door after the first knock.

  ‘May I come in?’ she asked, looking around warily. The hallway was empty, and she could hear nobody nearby, but she didn’t trust the silence.

  ‘But of course, my friend. Please, come.’ Galed held the door wide, and she ducked her head and passed under his outstretched arm. He closed it again after her.

  ‘You are safe then, they have not hurt you?’

  ‘I don’t think they’ve hurt anybody yet,’ she said, then swallowed. Except Aderon, a small voice reminded her. How many more must die because of you?

  ‘I don’t trust it though,’ he shook his head. ‘This cannot last.’

  ‘A visitor? Oh thank the Gods. So far, this has been the dullest war I could possibly imagine.’ Lyria watched on from the couch where she sat.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude…’

  ‘You’re always welcome here, Orla,’ Galed said, and gestured for her to sit.

  Lyria smiled warmly at her, and Orla felt a tug of guilt. She’d promised the girl they would meet again and had sent no message.

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve been caught in this,’ Orla said.

  ‘But it’s been coming for years now, hasn’t it? And I may as well be caught in it here, with my father, as somewhere else alone.’

  Galed frowned and shook his head.

  ‘Have you been giving thought to the vote?’ Orla said, turning to Galed, then winced at her bluntness. Idiot. What else would he have been thinking of in the day since he’d been confined to this chamber? It was only the most important question probably ever put to the Council.

  ‘Could say that I have, Orla,’ he said seriously.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

  ‘Do you even need ask?’

  Orla continued carefully. ‘I know many people have been… shocked by the King’s condition. I understand that may colour their thinking.’

  ‘Do you doubt my loyalty?’

  She shook her head. ‘It is not that. Just, I understand that the decision might not seem as simple as it otherwise would, given the state of the King. And thinking what is best for our people, for the Council, for the whole Archipelago…’
>
  ‘Are you religious, Orla?’

  Orla opened her mouth, then hesitated.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean this business they call religion round here, with the scars and the penance and that God always watching to see you fail. But were you brought up with the old stories, the old prayers. Do you look to Ishkarin and Atreya in the fading light when the sun goes down?’

  She nodded quickly, memories of her Amma coming to her unbidden. She had a rich voice and would sing Orla and Merryn to sleep most nights when they were small. She sang to the Gods but with so much feeling her songs could just about bring you to tears.

  ‘Then you understand me when I tell you: my ties are to the old ways. I do not bow to this God that has come across the sea. I made my vows when I was young and they bind me still. A good knot holds fast, as they say.’

  His voice was a perfect Ekenshi accent, a sudden deep breath of home. Something loosened inside her. Orla smiled.

  She didn’t need to reach out to read him. She could sense when there was a coherence within someone; their thoughts and words and actions all aligned. That was how Galed was. All of him was there, saying the same thing.

  ‘And the other members of the Council?’ she asked. ‘Have you spoken to any of them? Do you have any sense what they might be thinking?’

  He laughed, a sudden coolness entering his demeanour.

  ‘Can’t say I’ve spoken to them, no. People are not, how shall I say it, taking house-calls very readily at present. I can make some guesses, though. Based on previous experience.’

  ‘Will they hold?’ Orla could not keep the urgency from her voice.

  He exhaled a sharp breath from his nostrils.

  ‘It’ll be close.’

  ‘Tell her the truth, Da,’ Lyria said softly.

  ‘Truth is I don’t know,’ he said, his voice sharper, ‘And no amount of speculation between these four walls will change that. The Council will vote, and then we shall see.’

  ✤

  Orla left holding a small package of sweet biscuits that Lyria had parcelled up for her; an Ekenshi recipe saved for the most festive occasions, rich with rose-water and cinnamon and orange blossom. The King has one ally at least, she thought and was warmed, though only for a moment. Galed had been disturbed by their talk, and when she had left, seen out by Lyria, he’d been sitting by the fireplace in dark and silent thought.

  She followed the instructions Mishi had given her until she reached the next door on her list. She hesitated. She was here for the King, she reminded herself. For the King who should rightly still command the loyalty of his Council, now more than ever. For the King who had asked for her help.

  She took a deep breath, then raised a fist and knocked at the door. She was becoming accustomed to the new silence of the Palace and was less anxious about the noise of her knock as it echoed in the empty hallway. She waited. She heard movements within the room, then a tense silence. She knocked again. She waited.

  Finally, the door swung open.

  Genevieve had composed herself before opening, and the cool smile that greeted Orla concealed her fear almost completely.

  ‘An unexpected visitor, how delightful,’ she crooned. ‘Would you like to come in?’

  Orla hesitated a moment. She didn’t trust Genevieve, and she certainly didn’t like her. But the conversation she hoped to have could not reasonably take place in the hallway, so under the circumstances she had little choice.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, stepping over the entranceway and into the room beyond.

  Genevieve’s room was strikingly different to the room that Galed occupied. Good fortune? Orla wondered, though she doubted it. Genevieve and Kynan were the children of one of the old Vaturi families. This had probably been their father’s room, though Genevieve had given it her own personal touch.

  A cascade of tiny lamps hung from the high ceilings, like stars in a clear night sky. The curtains, which as in Galed’s room were drawn, were of a heavy velvet, deep green, the same colour that Genevieve frequently wore. The furnishings were of a wood that almost glowed, it was polished to such a deep lustre. An entire wall was taken up with a mirror, lit by a series of bright lanterns. An object in the likeness of a tree hung glittering jewellery, each branch dripping as with dew in the early morning light.

  ‘Please, take a seat,’ Genevieve said, gesturing to a chair off to one side of the room.

  ‘Thank you,’ Orla said again, her mouth suddenly dry. Your purpose, she reminded herself. You are here for the King.

  ‘You have not been troubled by our captors?’ Genevieve asked, a perfect picture of polite kindness and concern. ‘But I suppose you have been captive for so long now it makes little difference to you who might be holding the ropes.’

  ‘I may have been brought here under difficult circumstances, but it is a long time since I’ve considered myself a captive,’ Orla said sharply, realising even as she said it that it was true. ‘I’m Reader to the King, a sworn member of the Court, bound by my own will as much as by the edict.’

  Genevieve clapped a few careful claps. ‘Oh well said. Have you been practising? You have the tone of righteous indignation just right…’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Orla said.

  ‘Your every word is a jewel of honesty.’

  ‘But how about you?’ Orla asked quickly, ‘I’m of little concern to the High Command, but you, an esteemed Councillor, must be of great interest to them. I imagine they are particularly curious as to your thoughts on the likely vote tomorrow…’

  ‘Did that fat old fool Estredik send you?’

  ‘The King sent me,’ Orla said, deciding that honesty would be more infuriating to Genevieve than any attempt at deception. ‘He wishes to know what his Council intends.’

  ‘You may tell him that he can count on my loyalty as always.’

  Orla smiled. ‘So, the question then, I suppose, is how loyal are you under normal circumstances?’

  ‘You doubt me?’

  ‘Not at all, I merely enquire.’ She held Genevieve’s gaze and probed, very lightly. It was like touching a hedgehog, one moment of contact and Genevieve’s mind was nothing but sharp spikes pushing at her. She had to admire the effort; not many could resist even a subtle sensing. But she saw a slight flush rise to the woman’s cheeks, strain visible in her eyes. She held a moment longer.

  ‘Well I suppose I shouldn’t keep you,’ she said. Genevieve smiled, a look of victory barely concealed.

  ‘You’re always welcome to visit of course Orla.’ They both rose. At the door, Orla turned.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said, ‘Galed asked me to give you this. A gift from Ekenshi that I believe he promised you some time ago.’

  Genevieve’s face registered momentary confusion as Orla held the packet out that Lyria had given her. Genevieve reached for it. For a moment their fingers touched. Orla closed her eyes and dove deep.

  Always, the first sensation was cold. A deep, sick, churning cold like you might feel the moment after a blade sinks into your flesh. And then, a sudden wash of images, thoughts and feelings, unordered, blurring together, filling her mind with movement and noise so that she didn’t know where she was, who she was. She saw Kynan, a younger Kynan, recognisable but clean-shaven, laughing. She saw a home, grander than any she’d ever seen, grand almost as the Palace. For a moment, she was riding a horse, galloping across a broad open field, the scent of salt-spray in the air. Then she saw an old man, hair fine wisps of white like a high cloud, lying on the ground, blood pooling around him. The anger, the hate, filled her like a blister swollen with pus. She searched deeper. She heard a voice she recognised.

  It is done.

  For a moment, everything stopped.

  It was Roland. Roland speaking to Genevieve.

  Shock buzzed through her veins. It didn’t make sense. She needed to withdraw, she could feel the connection shifting, she could feel the pounding in her head growing stronger, the dizzy blackness filling her. She tried a
gain, pushed further.

  The Ashkar ship.

  A warmth that was something more than friendship, something more than cooperation. I knew I could count on you.

  Orla withdrew, gasping, coughing. She felt as though she was going to throw up.

  ‘What… did… you do… to me?’ Genevieve looked pale.

  Orla drew herself together. She had to get away. She had to think about what she’d just seen. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t know what it meant.

  She backed away a few steps through the open door, then began to run down the hallway, her footsteps ringing loud in the silence. She could hear Genevieve groaning behind her.

  ‘You little bitch…’ she wasn’t even sure if she heard the words spoken or whether they were echoing in her head, an after-effect of the reading.

  ✤

  She didn’t remember how she got back to her room. She mustn’t have met any guards, or presumably she would have had to stop. She barred the door as best she could, wondering whether Genevieve would come after her, whether someone would come for her. She lay on the bed, breathing heavily still, heart pounding.

  Roland.

  Roland and Genevieve.

  The Ashkarai…

  Her thoughts were racing, tumbling over one another, looping back around.

  She didn’t understand.

  She thought of Roland’s absences. His warnings. His attempts to get her to leave the Palace before the attack took place.

  Roland who knew everybody, who could make anything happen.

  It was his doing.

  He was the one.

  He was the one who sank the ship.

  Tomorrow it would all end, she thought. The Council would betray the King, the Uruhenshi would take the Palace. The Brethren would win. It would all be over. Aderon was dead, Ged was gone. The world would descend into chaos.

  Chapter forty-nine

  Jexin Beyn, High Commander of the Uruhenshi, sat in the seat of the King.