Besieged (The Outcast Chronicles)

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  ‘Stay away from them. They’ll be your death. There are predators–’

  ‘I survived.’ But he had sensed something... a predator, or an angry god? ‘There was something powerful down there.’

  ‘I’d like to know how you survived. Only gift-warriors dare to tackle empyrean beasts.’

  ‘Another T’En word I don’t know.’

  She sighed. ‘What I tell you now, I tell you to save your life, foolish boy. There is this plane, the world you see about you every day, and there is another world that lies alongside it, the empyrean plane. In places, unclean places as the Mieren call them, the walls are weak. At certain times of the year, like season’s cusp, the walls grow even weaker.

  ‘Terrible beasts roam the empyrean plane. The T’En protect us from these predators. If the beasts break through, they cannot stay long, but in the little time they have they can wreak havoc, devouring the life force of any man, woman or child they find. I’ve heard some can feast on a person’s wits and leave them a simpleton. Only T’En gift-warriors can protect–’

  ‘If that is true, why did the creature devour the T’En plait?’

  She went very still, then looked up. ‘You killed a T’En? You wicked, wicked boy!’

  ‘I killed no one.’ Although, now that he thought about it, someone had killed a T’En to get the blood-stained robe and the braid. ‘Where did you think the button came from?’

  She did not answer.

  ‘The plait glowed and writhed in the air as if something was playing with it,’ Sorne said. ‘Why would a beast do that?’

  ‘Why do cats play with mice before killing them?’

  ‘Why was there a flash of light?’

  ‘It was the surge of power as the beast was dragged back into its realm.’

  ‘Why did I have a vision after the light blinded me?’

  ‘You? A vision?’ She laughed.

  He found he was on his feet. ‘You’re weak. You’re addicted to T’En power.’ Contempt filled him. ‘I’m not like you. I’m never going to be a victim. I’ll be powerful.’

  And he strode off.

  Her voice carried after him. ‘Don’t go down there again. Not if you want to live.’

  He went back to the stable, where Hiruna berated him. ‘What were you thinking, going down that mine? You could have gotten your brother killed.’

  He hugged her.

  ‘What was that for?’

  For treating me like I’m your son. ‘I’m hungry.’

  Chapter Twenty

  IRIAN STUDIED THE big T’En male as he went through his combat sequence.

  ‘Should we offer him a place on the inner circle?’ Ardeyne asked. They stood on the balcony overlooking the weapons training courtyard. ‘With both Nereon and Araze dead, there’s room for Mefusun, and we have passed over him before.’

  ‘For good reason,’ Irian said. ‘He’s powerful and ambitious, but his thinking is far too rigid. Mefusun is paranoid about T’En females. I would not be comfortable with him on our inner circle.’

  ‘If we pass over him this time, it will be seen as an insult. We’d need to honour him in some other way.’

  ‘We could send him to manage one of the brotherhood estates.’

  ‘He’d see it as banishment from the city.’

  ‘He’d be ruler of his own domain,’ Irian said, but Ardeyne was right. Nereon and Araze’s deaths were inconvenient. Nereon couldn’t help his sudden illness, but Araze should have known better than to duel at his age.

  ‘I’ll talk it over with Roh.’ Ardeyne left him.

  Gripping the rail, Irian watched the mid- to high-ranking brotherhood warriors. Juggling powerful, ambitious men was a challenge. Sometimes there was no easy answer.

  A little later, Ardeyne’s devotee came looking for the voice-of-reason.

  ‘He’s with Roh. What is it?’

  ‘Reothe’s back.’

  A thrill of excitement ran through Irian, rousing his gift. The sacrare boy would be born soon and, through him, they would unite the brotherhoods. Truly, Rohaayel was a visionary, the greatest all-father in the history of the T’Enatuath.

  ‘Go tell Roh and Ard. I’ll bring Reothe up after he’s made his report to the tithe-master.’

  The devotee left. Irian couldn’t wait, and went to meet Reothe on the stairs.

  Looking at the initiate, you could not tell he had made the deep-bonding, but it must have changed him. Trysting with a T’En female was unforgettable. The first time, it had taken Irian three days to come back to earth. Trysting, while sharing the intimacy of the deep-bonding... how he envied the youth.

  ‘Hand-of-force.’ Reothe was surprised to see him on the stairs and made obeisance, acknowledging Irian’s higher rank.

  ‘Reothe.’ Glancing around, he lowered his voice. ‘The sacrare is...’

  ‘Well. If his kicks are anything to go by.’

  ‘She suspects nothing?’

  ‘Not a thing. In fact, after she has the baby, she wants to come live with our brotherhood.’ Reothe frowned. ‘We can’t keep lying to her. There has to be a better way.’

  ‘There is a better way for the T’Enatuath. That’s why we’re dismantling the covenant.’ He held Reothe’s eyes. They could not afford doubts. ‘I know it’s hard, but we have to stay strong. Imoshen will thank us, one day.’

  Reothe nodded. ‘It’s just... it doesn’t feel right to lie.’

  Irian gave a wry smile. ‘The higher you rise, the more you come to realise honesty is a luxury. Go make your report to Tithe-master Ysanyn. We’ll be waiting for you on the roof.’

  The youth nodded and left him.

  He hadn’t told Reothe, but they were going to bring the gift-tutor with them. If the birth of a sacrare could trigger the development of a female’s gift, then they might need Bedettor’s advice.

  ‘Hand-of-force?’ The leader of Irian’s Malaunje agents came up the stairs.

  Netaric was no longer a warrior, but he knew everyone, and Irian trusted his judgement. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Down in the Malaunje quarters, there is whisper of Imoshen. Someone must have let something slip.’

  ‘How much do they know?’

  ‘Rumours of a secret lover, a daughter, a T’En girl hidden from the sisterhoods and kept locked in a tower.’

  Irian cursed. ‘I’ll tell Roh. Your people–’

  ‘Are denying it, but they’re worried. They fear the sisterhoods’ wrath if it’s true.’

  ‘Tell them the all-father would never...’ He was about to say Rohaayel would never put his brotherhood at risk, but he had done just that for an ideal. ‘Tell them it’s nonsense. Quash the rumour.’

  Netaric nodded and went down the stairs, while Irian went up. When he stepped out into the silvery winter sunshine on the rooftop garden, he spotted Rohaayel and Ardeyne. They had finished their balance exercises and were dressing warmly.

  Irian jogged over. ‘We could have a problem.’ He told them Netaric’s news and his orders.

  ‘It’s just a rumour,’ Ardeyne said. ‘Like the story of the village high in the mountains where Malaunje live free of Mieren and T’En. No one will believe it.’

  ‘Ard’s right,’ Rohaayel said. ‘What we’ve done is unthinkable.’

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go to Lighthouse Isle for the birth,’ Irian said.

  ‘We’ve said we’re going south for the winter. If we change our plans it’ll look suspicious. No, we stick to the plan.’

  The next day they rode out with the gift-tutor, Reothe and four Malaunje servants.

  IMOSHEN MARVELLED AS she held her newborn in her arms. The birth had happened so fast, there hadn’t been time to get the cook. Her son was early and... ‘So small.’

  A fierce instinct to protect her child surged through her, rousing her gift. With it came rush of power, sweeping through her body and mind with such intensity it was painful.

  She was still reeling when a sound made her look over to Frayvia, who was watching he
r with the baby. Her gift rose and she realised a pall of sorrow hung over her friend. ‘Why are you so sad?’

  ‘I’m not,’ Frayvia lied. ‘I’m happy for you.’

  Imoshen’s gift surged again. Her friend was torn apart inside. Why had she never seen it before?

  ‘I should tell the cook she missed the birth, and bring Iraayel in to meet his choice-brother,’ Frayvia said.

  ‘No, wait. I’d like to clean up first.’ Imoshen looked down at the sleeping infant. ‘You said T’En babies take a full year for their gift to mature. Do you think he’ll be alright?’

  ‘He was early, but not too early.’

  Imoshen could read the conviction in Frayvia. It felt so natural, it took her a moment to realise her gift had flexed again. She had never had this depth of insight before.

  ‘Why are you staring at me?’ Frayvia asked, fear hiding behind a smile.

  Frayvia feared her?

  ‘I would never hurt you.’

  Frayvia gasped and took a step back, colliding with Reothe.

  ‘Reothe?’ Imoshen sat up, wincing with pain. ‘I thought you–’

  ‘We just arrived. When I heard you were in labour, I ran up from the boat. The cook told me you wouldn’t deliver until tomorrow morning but...’ With a laugh, he brushed past Frayvia and dropped to his knees by the bed, where he cupped the tiny head of his son in his palm. The new part of her gift enabled her to sense a wave of protective wonder fill him. ‘Oh, Imoshen...’ He looked up at her. ‘What did you call him?’

  ‘I haven’t named him yet. I thought Reo-something. Reonyx or Reomyr, perhaps.’

  He smiled and she sensed his love: a bright and shining shield. ‘Reoshen?’

  She laughed, then winced.

  ‘You’re hurt?’

  ‘A bit. The birth happened quickly. I was torn.’

  He flinched and she felt his pain for her. Everything was so raw; her body, her emotions, her gift... she was overwhelmed.

  ‘The all-father and his seconds are probably downstairs by now.’ Frayvia stood in the doorway, radiating angry resentment.

  ‘Yes,’ Reothe said, and in that one word, Imoshen glimpsed a world of regret and guilt. ‘The gift-tutor’s with them.’

  Imoshen reached for his hand. ‘Why is Fray angry with you, and why do you feel guilty?’

  His mouth dropped open and she read his dismay. Touch made it so much clearer.

  He looked down to their joined hands. ‘You’re a raedan, able to read emotions. They said there was a chance your gift would mature. That’s why they brought the gift-tutor with them.’ He glanced over his shoulder to the door and she saw him make a decision.

  As he took her shoulders in his hands, a sick dread filled Imoshen; she already knew what he was going to say. Karokara had tried to warn her. You’re a prisoner...

  ‘I love you,’ Reothe said. ‘I have from the day you took me down to the rocks and nearly drowned me. But I haven’t been entirely honest with you. This island is your prison.’

  Imoshen hadn’t wanted to see. A moan escaped her.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He hugged her, pressing his lips to hers, then pulled back. Tears slipped down his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I would never have lied to you, but it’s for a great cause. They plan to use our sacrare son to unite the brotherhoods and free us from the covenant.’

  ‘What covenant?’

  Frayvia made an impatient gesture. ‘You’ll have to tell her everything now.’

  OSKANE CURSED. KING Charald had refused to meet him at Enlightenment Abbey. He smoothed out the paper, passing it to Franto. ‘I can read between the lines. He listens to Nitzel, who tells him I am delusional.’

  ‘That’s easily disproved.’ Having read the reply, Franto folded it and returned it to the packet. ‘Tell them to come here.’

  ‘But it’s unclean.’

  ‘Not any more. Now it is a doorway to the gods.’

  ‘They’ll refuse outright. The taint–’

  ‘There is no taint.’

  ‘But they will think there is. That’s why I wanted to meet them in the abbey. I was going to tell them in person when I showed them the drawing of Sorne’s vision!’

  ‘Anyone can do a drawing. Much better to set up a demonstration. Have the half-bloods make another offering. Stage another vision, one that favours your cause.’

  ‘The vision was real.’

  ‘As you say,’ Franto agreed. ‘But that doesn’t mean the half-blood can’t have a vision that suits your purposes.’

  ‘Ask him to lie for me?’ Oskane shook his head. ‘I don’t want to put the idea of lying into his head. He and Izteben are innocent of deception.’

  ‘They’ll need to lie convincingly when you send them into the Wyrd city.’

  ‘I’m not sending them, now. I know’ – he shrugged – ‘seventeen years of training for just that purpose. But why waste them as spies, when I can use them to communicate with the gods? Through them I can regain leadership over all seven churches. With the power of the church behind me, and Charald listening to my advice, I can restore my family’s fortunes.’

  ‘Only if you can convince Charald to come here.’ Franto’s face lit up. ‘We have the bag of malachite Denat tried to steal. I could slip into the palace and bribe my way in to see the king, then plead your case.’

  Oskane shook his head. ‘I don’t want you appearing before Charald and Nitzel as a supplicant. I want them to come to me.’

  ‘Then negotiate from a position of power. Promise them a vision from the Warrior if they come here, to the holy site!’

  ‘Holy site, that’s very good. And you’re absolutely right. The Warrior is Charald’s patron god, he won’t be able to resist.’

  Oskane was halfway though the message when a noise from the courtyard interrupted him. ‘What is that commotion?’

  Franto went to the window and opened the shutters.

  ‘The half-bloods have opened the gate to someone. It’s...’

  ‘Zabier!’ Izteben’s cry reached them. ‘Ma, it’s Zabier.’

  ‘Zabier and Kolst?’ Oskane came to his feet.

  ‘No sign of Kolst. Just the lad. How old is he now?’

  ‘Thirteen next spring, same age as Prince Cedon.’ Oskane looked down through the maple tree’s bare branches to see Sorne hugging Zabier, lifting him right off his feet.

  ‘Scholar Oskane!’ Zabier spotted them. ‘Master Franto. I’ve come home.’

  ‘Zabier!’ Hiruna ran out of the stables, leaving Valendia to trot along behind her. She threw her arms around her son and kissed him, weeping.

  Franto wiped his eyes and Oskane cleared his throat. He frowned. ‘If Kolst did not bring the lad, how–’

  ‘He found his way back to us, Ma,’ Izteben said.

  ‘All the way on his own,’ Sorne said proudly.

  Oskane stepped away from the window. ‘If a boy of twelve can find us...’

  ‘Then Nitzel’s agents could find us,’ Franto conceded.

  ‘We’ll be safer in plain sight, negotiating from a position of power. They must come here.’ Oskane sat down to finish writing his reply. ‘Send the boy up.’

  A few moments later, Zabier entered.

  Oskane put his nib down. ‘You have returned. What happened?’

  ‘Da used the gold you gave him to build a fine house for the family and improve his brother’s business.’ Zabier licked his lips nervously. ‘It was a mistake going back. Da fought with Uncle. When Da turned up drowned in the millpond, Uncle blamed it on drink, but he hardly ever drank. Uncle treated me like a servant. My cousin teased me because I could read and write. I had a big fight with him and he said I’d end up floating face-down in the millpond like Da. So I came back.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Oskane said. ‘The church is a good career for a smart lad. You could go far, but you’ll have to work hard at your studies.’

  ‘I don’t mind as long as I can be with my family.’

  ‘It’s decided then. Off you go.’
/>
  Franto stepped into the study and closed the door. ‘You need to tell the half-bloods there’s been a change in plan.’

  ‘The goal was always to crush Nitzel and restore my family’s fortune. Spying on the Wyrds was only a means to an end.’

  ‘Then you need to make it clear they will be serving the church and king in a new, more important capacity.’

  SINCE ZABIER’S RETURN, Sorne had smiled so much his face hurt.

  ‘...I always meant to return,’ Zabier was saying as they ate. ‘So I marked all the important places in my mind.’

  Hiruna laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. ‘My clever, clever boy!’

  ‘Clever boy!’ Valendia repeated.

  ‘Oh, Ma,’ Zabier whispered. ‘I’ve missed you all.’

  After she’d put Valendia to bed, Hiruna took Zabier with her to cook the meal for the scholar and his assistant.

  As Izteben watched them leave, he said, ‘I can’t believe it, Zabe has seen more of the world than we have. Our clever little brother.’

  Sorne felt a pang of remorse. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Izteben they weren’t really brothers. There had never been the right moment, and it didn’t seem to matter since they were as good as brothers anyway.

  ‘This is my chance to read the latest messages,’ Sorne said. After he’d discovered the truth about himself, he’d made it his business to read all the messages from Oskane’s agents, dating right back to when they first came to the retreat. He knew his uncle, Matxin, was eager to restore the family’s fortune, and he knew the king saw threat everywhere. If it wasn’t his barons fomenting revolt, it was the rulers of neighbouring kingdoms after his throne.

  Sorne took a needle and thread from Hiruna’s sewing basket. ‘I promised the she-Wyrd a new silver button. The last one’s gift residue is worn out. Keep watch for me?’

  As they crept across the courtyard, they could hear Hiruna happily singing to herself as she cooked. Oskane and Franto sat chatting by the fire.

  Sorne left Izteben to keep watch, then slipped up the stairs to the scholar’s chambers. He went straight to the packet of messages on the desk, next to a letter in Oskane’s hand addressed to King Charald.