Besieged (The Outcast Chronicles)

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because Valendia is not dead. I have her.’

  Sorne went very still. ‘You wouldn’t hurt her.’

  ‘Oh, no? I found her consorting with that Wyrd. She’s a slut. All she can think about is fucking and sucking.’

  Sorne flinched. ‘How can you talk like that about our sister? She’s an innocent.’

  ‘Not anymore. And she’s not your sister. Never was.’

  Sorne blinked and swayed. He glanced down to the wine. ‘What have you done, brother?’

  ‘I’m not your brother. You’re a half-blood. A tool, to be trotted out to perform sacrifices for me, and parrot my visions for the king.’ Zabier leant closer as Sorne collapsed. ‘You’re so smart. Yet you never thought to look for trickery from me? Shame on you!’

  And he called the holy-warriors in. They wrapped Sorne in a blanket and took him out to the wagon. Zabier felt a glow of satisfaction. Things were finally going his way.

  GRAELEN WOKE IN the dim grey of dawn with his arms wrapped around Dia. He was naked, but warm. For a heartbeat he lay there, luxuriating in her soft curves. His gift stirred and he let the power slide over her skin; felt her stir in response, then stiffen as she woke.

  ‘You came to me in the night,’ she whispered. ‘But you weren’t even conscious. How did you do that?’

  He was about to say he didn’t know, when he remembered one of the stories he’d loved as a child.

  ‘It had to be transposition. It’s supposed to be a myth, but...’ He shrugged. ‘If I hadn’t imprinted you with my gift before we parted, I would have been lost on the empyrean plane. But I thought of you, and the link we share brought me here. You saved me.’

  He sat up, and saw that her hands were chained to the backboard of a cart. He’d soon fix that. They were surrounded by chests, sacks and barrels. Canvas covered the cart’s frame. She shivered and he pulled up the blanket.

  Life was good. He lived and he’d found her again. It was more than he deserved. Then he remembered the planned attack on the city, and urgency made his gift surge. ‘What day is it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s six days since we left the port.’

  That meant today was winter’s cusp feast. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘In a covered cart, being transported to Restoration Retreat.’

  ‘I meant, where in Chalcedonia?’

  ‘I don’t know. We went south, then east. We’ve been climbing since yesterday.’

  If they were in the mountains bordering Navarone, then he had only a general idea of the area. He could take a horse and strike out for the city, but it might take him three days to find the route.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Relief hit him as he realised he didn’t have to warn the city. Sorne believed he was dead. Sorne would do what he could not. ‘Nothing. Everything’s all right now.’

  A horse whinnied. Someone grumbled about the cold and another person told them to build up the fire.

  Graelen looked to Dia. ‘How many?’

  ‘The old priest, Utzen, and two even older penitents. No one else would come with him.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m going to get the key to free you.’

  ‘Don’t get hurt.’

  Her concern warmed him, but he wasn’t the one who would be hurt. His all-father had asked him to kill his own kind to further his private ambition. Dia asked nothing of him, but he felt no compunction killing to protect her.

  When he climbed out of the cart, he found one man working over the fire. Another was off with the horses, and he heard a third in the bushes relieving himself.

  A little later, he sat by the fire with Dia as they watched the beans cook. The camp perched on a natural lookout high in the mountains. Chalcedonia spread out below them, pristine in the fresh light of dawn. Mist lay in the hollows. Perhaps he was selfish, but he was glad warning Kyredeon was no longer his duty.

  Dia warmed her hands. ‘Did you warn the city?’

  ‘Someone else is doing it.’

  ‘Good. Did you kill the three True-men?’

  He didn’t want her to be frightened of him, but he had to tell the truth. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. We cannot afford to let them go back to port.’

  Her frank assessment made him smile.

  ‘Why do you smile?’

  ‘Because I’m happy.’ And he hadn’t been happy for a very long time.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  ‘GUARD DUTY TONIGHT?’ Learon grumbled, adjusting his long-knives. ‘When we should be celebrating?’

  ‘Come on.’ Tobazim glanced behind them as they crossed the brotherhood’s courtyard. He couldn’t see much through the archway into the next courtyard, but he could hear laughter, music and children singing. Soon the children would be in bed and the real fun would begin.

  But not for him and Learon, nor for any of the Malaunje men who had escaped with them.

  ‘He’s punishing us,’ Learon muttered as they took up position on the street, outside the front entrance to their brotherhood palace.

  Tobazim elbowed him. ‘Let Kyredeon’s hand-of-force hear you say that and you’ll spend a year on guard duty.’

  It was meant to be a jest, but it had the ring of truth. Life in the brotherhood’s palace was not what Tobazim had expected. He was used to the camaraderie of the winery. Here, there was a constraint he didn’t understand. When he approached, people stopped talking. He didn’t know if it was because the adepts and initiates had been told to avoid them, or because of something deeper.

  ‘Everyone’s celebrating but us,’ Learon muttered, as they reached the palace’s street entrance.

  As if to prove his point, a dozen laughing warriors poured out of Chariode’s palace next door. Despite the chill that held the promise of winter, they went bare-chested to show off their duelling scars, breeches slung low on their hips, heavy belts embossed with semi-precious stones.

  None of them carried their long-knives. It was forbidden on feast nights. Too many potential duels.

  Arm-torcs bearing the symbol of Chariode’s brotherhood encircled their biceps, and their long pale hair had been threaded with jewels, which glinted in the street lamps.

  It was all about display, tonight; not threat.

  But display could be a form of threat. See how rich and powerful my brotherhood is. We have no need to fear you. Bluff and counter-bluff – the dance of brotherhood rivalry.

  The warriors were singing at the tops of their voices as they waited for friends to join them before setting off.

  Tobazim grinned. ‘Looks like they’ve already started on the wine.’

  ‘I bet they’re making for the park and its secluded nooks. I heard some of the more daring T’En women slip away tonight,’ Learon whispered. He nodded towards the sisterhood palaces, their domes and towers silvered by the double full moons. ‘There’s a chance of illicit trysting. But not for us.’ He made a disgusted sound in his throat.

  As Chariode’s adepts waited for their friends, several of them turned to give Tobazim and Learon filthy looks.

  Tobazim felt his gift leap to his defence and had to force it down. He sensed Learon doing the same. The others arrived, and all of them moved off through the archway onto the causeway boulevard.

  ‘What was that about?’ Learon whispered.

  ‘I wish I knew.’ They hadn’t been allowed out of the brotherhood palace since they’d arrived. Kyredeon didn’t trust them.

  Chariode’s palace was the closest to the causeway gate; the other brotherhood palaces stretched along the street past Kyredeon’s, following the curve of the island. Now revellers poured down the street and wandered past them in groups, singing and joking, as they headed for the free quarter. Tobazim had read of the plays and dance halls, the way poets would challenge passers-by to a duel of rhyming couplets. He wished he’d lived in the Early Golden Age, when the city’s buildings were first raised and his gift would have been appreciated.

  ‘Look.�
� Learon gestured up the street. ‘None of the other all-fathers have bothered to put anyone on guard duty tonight.’

  He was right. All the brotherhoods’ palaces stood wide open. Tobazim shrugged. ‘The causeway gate’s shut and the Mieren have all gone home for the night.’

  ‘So, what’s the point of ceremonial guards?’

  ‘Prestige.’ Which begged the question. Why did their all-father feel the need to reinforce his prestige? What had to happen before he could safely reveal the attack on Vanillin Oak Winery?

  ‘Lear...’ a sweet, husky voice sang.

  Tobazim glanced over his shoulder.

  Paravia glided through the gate to join them. On the floors above, balconies overlooked the street. Tobazim could hear laughter and the occasional squeal of delight. It sounded like some of the brothers were getting into the revelry early.

  ‘Paravia...’ Learon’s voice held genuine regret. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘I brought you some wine.’

  ‘We’re on duty.’

  ‘He’s right, Paravia,’ Tobazim said. ‘This isn’t the winery. If the hand-of-force caught us drinking...’ He shuddered to think.

  ‘Why are you even on guard duty tonight?’ She was indignant for them. ‘It’s a feast night. None of the other brotherhoods are going to come banner-stealing–’

  ‘Actually, it’s a very good night for banner-stealing.’ Learon caught Tobazim’s eye. ‘Kyredeon seems to dislike All-fathers Chariode and Hueryx. If we stole their banners, we could win stature and sweeten him up.’

  ‘Oh...’ Paravia stamped her foot in mock annoyance, then sidled up close to Learon. ‘You don’t want to go banner-stealing when you could be meeting me.’

  Tobazim looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch Paravia’s busy hands. But T’En warriors from other brotherhoods saw what she was up to as they went by and whistled appreciatively.

  Tobazim was about to remind Learon of his duty, when his choice-brother caught Paravia’s hands and turned them away, saying, ‘I finish at midnight. Go have some fun ’til then.’

  She kissed him and darted away.

  ‘Not too much fun without me,’ he warned.

  She laughed.

  Learon adjusted himself. ‘Midnight can’t come too soon.’

  IMOSHEN WAS GLAD the official duties of her evening were over. She returned to her chambers with the intention of singing baby Umaleni to sleep, but found Iraayel, Saffazi and Bedutz playing with her. Seeing their heads bent over the baby, she realised their hair was darkening to silver-grey. They were no longer children, but neither were they adults. They would keep growing until they were twenty-five, and it would take years for them to learn to master their powers.

  It was good to see Bedutz. She hadn’t seen much of him recently. He was focused on joining the brotherhood, and there was a lot of anger in him, as if Vittoryxe’s rage had taken root. But, seeing Umaleni in his arms, she was reminded of the boy she had met all those years ago when they first arrived in the city.

  Her gift flexed and she read him. Holding the baby soothed him. She came over, placed a hand on his shoulder and opened her senses. His gift, usually laced with aggression, was now leavened with compassion.

  And in that instant, she understood what Imoshen the Covenant-maker had not. By removing the T’En children, infants and nursing mothers from contact with the men, she had removed the soothing effect they had on the aggressive male gifts. Once the men were surrounded by nothing but more men, their gifts responded to each other, always spiralling towards violence. The covenant had made them more dangerous.

  ‘Time for me to put Uma to bed,’ Imoshen said.

  They each gave the sleepy infant a kiss and Imoshen went through to the nursery, where she found Frayvia sitting on the window sill. Clearly, she missed Sorne.

  Imoshen lay down next to Umaleni to feed her, and Frayvia came over to join her.

  ‘He could come live in the city,’ Imoshen said softly. ‘I’m all-mother; I’d accept him into our sisterhood.’

  Frayvia rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t think he’s a tame Malaunje.’

  Imoshen smiled.

  A little later, she wandered out to find Iraayel and Saffazi sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing cards.

  ‘I won, I have a sisterhood!’ Saffazi crowed.

  ‘That was luck, pure luck! You always take ridiculous risks.’ Iraayel threw his cards down with a laugh.

  Egrayne’s choice-daughter rolled her eyes. ‘What fun is life, if you can’t take risks? Another game?’

  Iraayel leaned forward to collect the cards and noticed Imoshen. ‘Oh, did you want to go to bed?’

  If she said yes, they’d leave and that would be the end of their game. Iraayel had turned sixteen yesterday. The thought of him having to join Chariode’s brotherhood in a year’s time horrified Imoshen.

  Although he’d spent the last three years studying martial arts with great focus, seeing him there playing cards with Saffazi made her realise how very young he still was. Yet all too soon she would have to declare him dead to her. The covenant was wrong, and she intended to change things, but she would not be in time to save her choice-son from the challenges of brotherhood life.

  Her only consolation was that Ardonyx would be on Chariode’s inner circle, and he would keep an eye on her choice-son.

  If Ardonyx returned from his voyage of exploration. He had to return. He didn’t even know they had a daughter.

  ‘Can we stay? Please say we can,’ Saffazi cajoled.

  ‘You can play, too,’ Iraayel offered.

  Imoshen laughed. ‘Stay as long as you like.’

  She went through to the nursery, where she found that Frayvia had returned to the window sill. Imoshen sat next to her.

  Iraayel’s laughter reached them.

  ‘You’re soft,’ Frayvia said.

  ‘I won’t have him for much longer.’

  TOBAZIM HAD BEEN listening to other people drinking and laughing all evening, and it was getting on his nerves. Music from at least three different sources reached him. Groups of merry-makers had wandered the streets of the brotherhood quarter earlier, but they were mostly up in the free quarter now, or inside the brotherhood palaces.

  Something clattered loudly, metal on stone. It seemed to come from Chariode’s palace.

  ‘Can’t be long until midnight now,’ Learon said, reaching down to adjust himself.

  The volume of noise from Chariode’s palace doubled, and the music stopped mid-tune. Deep male voices rose in anger. Something smashed, the tinkle of broken glass clear and high above the hubbub.

  ‘A fight,’ Learon muttered. ‘Too much wine. Some old slight remembered. Someone out for pay-back.’

  A scream, short and visceral, made Tobazim’s gift surge. He forced it down.

  ‘Their hand-of-force will step in and separate them,’ Learon said, ‘then call for their voice-of-reason to sort it out.’

  But the furore rose in volume.

  Tobazim and Learon exchanged looks.

  Next came the unmistakable clash of metal on metal, followed by agonised screaming.

  Learon swore. ‘Chariode’s people are under attack!’

  Tobazim ducked into the palace gate-tunnel. ‘Help me with the gates.’

  Learon thrust his big shoulder behind the heavy gates. After initial resistance, they creaked and eased shut. Tobazim threw the bolts.

  They ran through to the first courtyard.

  Here, within the palace walls, the sound of fighting was muted, and could easily be mistaken for rowdy roistering. Until a shriek rose and was cut off abruptly.

  ‘It’s the winery all over again,’ Tobazim muttered.

  They sped through into the palace, past those still caught up in the revelry and those long past carousing.

  Hand-of-force Oriemn stood in the corridor outside Kyredeon’s door, talking to the saw-bones, Ceyne. When Oriemn spotted them, anger flashed across his face.

 
; Before he could berate them, Tobazim reported, ‘Chariode’s palace is under attack.’

  ‘That’s none of our business.’

  ‘A Mieren attack is none of our business?’ Learon demanded.

  ‘What makes you think it’s Mieren?’ Ceyne asked.

  ‘It’ll be a rival brotherhood,’ Oriemn said. ‘Or a leadership challenge. You’re new to the city, you don’t know our ways.’

  Tobazim glanced to Learon. Had they overreacted?

  Running boots made them all turn.

  ‘Mieren attack!’ a warrior reported as he hurried towards them. ‘They’ve breached the lake-wall and broken into Chariode’s palace.’

  Learon cursed. ‘I told–’

  ‘Quiet,’ Oriemn snapped. He turned his attention to the messenger. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I come from the rooftop garden. Women and children are pouring onto Chariode’s roof, calling for help.’

  ‘We must–’ Learon turned to go.

  Oriemn caught him by the arm. ‘You do nothing until I give the order.’

  ‘But–’

  The hand-of-force shoved Learon up against the wall, forearm across his throat. ‘Nothing.’ Oriemn’s gift flared to reinforce his words. ‘Do you understand?’

  Learon did not look happy, but he nodded.

  ‘We’ve shut the palace’s street gate,’ Tobazim reported, trying to divert him. ‘But we only have our long-knives. They’ll be armed with swords. We need–’

  ‘You need to shut up.’ Oriemn turned the full force of his gift on Tobazim.

  ‘Do as he says,’ the saw-bones advised.

  ‘Come with me.’ Oriemn gestured to the warrior from the rooftop. He strode into Kyredeon’s chamber, shutting the door behind him. They waited.

  And they waited.

  Learon swore and went to stride off.

  Ceyne caught his arm. ‘If you disobey a direct order, he’ll execute you.’

  ‘I know, but women and children are dying.’

  ‘Believe me, I share your frustration.’

  Tobazim was having trouble controlling his gift. ‘What’s the delay?’