Stormlord’s Exile

by Glenda Larke

  Selfishly glad that Senya never came near her now, or even cared enough to ask anyone about her progress, he sometimes thought of Amberlyn not as Senya’s child at all, but as Terelle’s. And then he would be awash with horrible wrenching guilt, made all the worse because he couldn’t explain to her in person. Whenever he thought of her receiving and reading his letter, he would break out in a cold sweat. He had a distaste for making excuses and suspected his account just made him appear pathetically guilty.

  And then news came from Samphire. The bearer was Sardi, the younger son of Messenjer, and he brought a letter from the Bastion. Jasper greeted the man, took the letter and sent him down to the kitchens to get some food. He sat down on a chair next to Amberlyn’s cradle and broke the seal.

  Two sheets of linen paper unfolded on his lap, written in spidery black script horizontally, then crossways over the top to save on paper, all in the shaky lettering of an old man with arthritic hands. With wrenching disappointment, he realised there was nothing from Terelle.

  He read the sheets through, scanning quickly, then went back and read each line with care, absorbing every nuance, every hint, every scrap of information he could extract. The news was no better the second time around. Feroze had been murdered. Terelle and Russet had been seized. Killed? No one knew for certain. The Bastion was working to send Elmar and Dibble back to rescue her, better prepared this time.

  The words danced and blurred. In his frustration, he wanted to pound his fists against the desk, or fling water from one end of the city to the other. Most of all he wanted to grab his palmubra and his water skin and ride for Khromatis.

  He forced himself to calm. To consider the other thing in the letter that leaped from the page at him. The Alabasters had changed their policy. They had made the decision to withdraw all their workers from Khromatis and to refuse trade with their neighbour, until such time as an apology had been received in Samphire, Terelle had been returned, and the families of the Alabasters who had died were compensated. If these terms were not met, then all ties with Khromatis would be permanently severed.

  Frowning, he pondered what impact such a policy would have, but had no answers because he had little idea just how much trade or contact the Alabasters had with their neighbours.

  Sandblast you for being so secretive, he thought. We could pay heavily for your mistakes.

  No, more than that. Terelle had already paid dearly. He closed his eyes in despair. Trembling, he laid the letter down and sank his head into his hands.

  She’s all right, you have to believe that. They can’t kill her because of the painting.

  But what if that future had already been fulfilled?

  Oh, my blighted eyes, why did I ever let her go?

  But then, he’d had no choice, and neither had she.

  Amberlyn gave a little cry, wanting his attention. He picked her up and laid her against his shoulder, rubbing her back and smelling the baby scent of her hair against his cheek. She pulled at his ear.

  I must go after her. What can Elmar and Dibble do? They’re not rainlords. They’re not even reeves. How will they ever even find her? But I can. If I get close enough, I can.

  He’d lost track of her when she’d begun to cross the Borderlands; the distance had become too great.

  But if he left the Quartern, who would bring water? Terelle’s paintings showed him stormshifting in the stormquest room; he couldn’t use them elsewhere. Then again, if Terelle died, how would he bring water in the future?

  Taquar.

  Oh, shrivelled hells, not with Taquar.

  Terelle. Terelle, you must return. You must.

  Perhaps he should leave it up to Elmar and the Alabasters.

  His thoughts spun out of control, battering him with contradictions and grief and alternatives, none of them good.

  If I go, what of Amberlyn? Oh, sweet waters, is there anyone I can entrust her to? He’d be damned if he’d leave her to Laisa and Senya.

  Iani, of course. He’d send her to Scarcleft with the two nurses.

  He took a deep breath. There was no point in flailing around like a child with too many choices. He was the Cloudmaster. A land depended on him for wise decisions. He walked to the door, still holding his daughter, and spoke to the guards outside. “Call the nurse to come and take Amberlyn, please. And ask the man who brought this letter from Alabaster to come and see me when he has eaten.”

  Zirca appeared within moments and he handed Amberlyn over to be taken back to the nursery in his apartment. By the time Sardi arrived, Jasper was seated behind the map table and had composed himself. He hoped he looked more like a cloudmaster. “Sit down Sardi. I have a few questions.”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “Do you know if a courier caravan reached Samphire after Terelle? I sent letters to the Bastion and to Terelle and Elmar Waggoner, her guard. I was hoping they would arrive before she left.”

  “There hasn’t been a caravan in from the Scarpen in the past quarter-cycle.”

  His heart sank. “You’re sure?”

  “M’lord, if a caravan arrived, the whole of Samphire would know. But…” He stirred uneasily. “We did see a dead pede between Skulkai and Fourcross Tell. A recent kill. Had mouth rings, so it was a domesticated beast. It’d been carved up for meat.”

  “No signs of men? Tents? Other pedes?”

  “No, m’lord. But Reduner marauders usually take everything, including men, if they attack a caravan. We didn’t see any graves.”

  “Are you still suffering Reduner raids into Alabaster?”

  “No. In fact, the Bastion was talking of allowing the mining settlements to be reopening. We assume Lord Kaneth has the Reduners contained.”

  “Not entirely, perhaps.” He thought of the courier and his guards, and felt ill. Dead? Slaves? He’d probably never know. “Sardi, how much is this new Alabaster policy—not trading with Khromatis, and not supplying labour—going to affect Khromatis?”

  “A great deal, m’lord. At least, that’s what people say in Samphire. Most of Khromatian mills are in the south, and almost all the workers are poorly paid Alabasters. If they employed Khromatians, everything’d cost more. And where would they get their salt and potash and soda? Of course, it’ll be a while before shortages are felt. And we haven’t acted on this yet; the Bastion is still awaiting an answer to his ultimatum. It could take a while, if Lord Bice sends to the Peak for advice.”

  “Do people feel the Khromatians will eventually give the Bastion what he wants?”

  There was a short uncomfortable silence before Sardi said, “Most do. A few, like my father, think the Khromatians will attack us.”

  “Go to war?”

  “Yes, m’lord. The Bastion doesn’t think that’ll happen, because of the difficulty of crossing the Borderlands and the Whiteout. They don’t have pedes. There’s no way they could use alpiners, though maybe they could seize some trade pedes already in the Southern Marches if they’re quick to be realising the Alabasters were leaving, once the exodus starts.”

  I’ll be spitless. Another weeping war. “So you don’t think the Khromatians would win?”

  “M’lord, if they were to send continuous storms they could melt Samphire to the ground. They don’t need to be crossing the Whiteout.”

  “Do they know Samphire is made of salt?”

  He shrugged. “If the Southern Marches are typical—well, they’re ruled by an armsman, commanding mounted fighting men. They’ve got waterlords trained in warfare. And they’ve got waterpainters, though not in the army. Everyone there fears waterpainters most of all. Not sure why. I’ve never heard of them being anything except healers, but there are tales about using them in battle. They’ve never been invaded, y’know. Another point is all our spear shafts come from Khromatis and all our iron is worked in the Southern Marches, because we don’t have fuel for furnaces and such. We’d soon be in trouble. But then, so would they, without our labour and skills.”

  “Is the Bastion willing to go
to war over this matter?”

  Sardi looked down at his feet and fidgeted. The silence was in danger of becoming uncomfortable when he spoke again. “My father thinks the Bastion believes war is unlikely because Khromatis has a lot to lose, but that he’s willing to be risking it. Feroze was the Bastion’s son, ye see. One of the family he was forced to be abandoning in order to become the Bastion.”

  When Jasper gaped, Sardi explained. “We believe a ruler shouldn’t have divided loyalties. A Bastion has to be relinquishing all ties to his family, to his home, to his wealth, even to his name. The present Bastion left his wife and young son, but Feroze sought him out when he was an adult. Some now say it’s the Bastion’s love for Feroze driving him to this confrontation with Khromatis.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  “I don’t know. What the Bastion says speaks to many, particularly young folk. Some of us are sick of believing Khromatis has the right to be despising us, to be using our labour and be paying us so little, to be buying our goods for a pittance while we’re the ones risking our lives in the mines and making the goods they want. We tend their flax fields, stoke their furnaces, dig their drains, protect their borders, keep their secrets. They tell us that’s our penance and our only way to heaven and God. Well, there are many who now say: enough.”

  Jasper thought in wonder that he’d learned more about Alabasters in a half-run of a sandglass than he had in the previous twenty cycles. I cannot let there be another war within the Quartern. I cannot. There has to be a better way. “Sardi,” he said, “I am going to Khromatis. In fact, I intend to be in Samphire before you are. I’ll leave the day after tomorrow, and I’ll take a shortcut across the Border Humps.”

  “There’s a problem with water that way—”

  “Not for a stormlord.”

  As Sardi made his way out of the door a little later, Laisa arrived in front of it. Without waiting for an invitation, she entered saying, “I heard there was a letter for you from Samphire.”

  “That’s right. And you decided you have a right to know what’s in it?”

  “Oh, don’t be such a sand-tick, Jasper. I’m a highlord and responsible for this city. Is there anything I should know about?” She sat on the edge of the table and neatly crossed her legs.

  She loves doing that, he thought. Because men always focus on the view it gives them… And to think there was a time when she could stir my desires. Right then, his adolescent days seemed a long way in the past. He said, “The Bastion is preparing for a confrontation with Khromatis.”

  “That shouldn’t be any concern of ours, should it?”

  “The White Quarter is usually considered to be part of the Quartern and therefore part of the Cloudmaster’s responsibility.”

  “I suppose,” she said indifferently, “as far as water matters are concerned. And trade. But for protection against outsiders?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you notice that we had help from the White Quarter when we needed it?”

  “All right, all right, I see your point. But what’s all this about? The Alabasters are hardly known for their aggression.”

  “Whatever the reasons, we can’t risk a Khromatian invasion of the Quartern.”

  Sliding down from the table, she sat in the chair opposite him. “I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. Just because Terelle’s in Samphire? Surely not. She could leave. She could even come back here, as long as you keep her well away from Senya.”

  “Nonetheless I’m going to Samphire.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They need a stormlord.”

  “What is it you’re not telling me?” Her foot tapped irritatingly against the chair leg.

  “Oh, waterless skies, Laisa, will you stop trying to see mysteries where there are none? Now if you don’t mind, I’ve a lot to prepare, so could you go and attend to your highlord affairs and leave me to mine?”

  She stopped then, but not because of anything he’d said. Her lips parted in an “oh!” of surprise. “I’ve been so stupid, haven’t I?”

  “I wouldn’t know. But you are certainly annoyi—”

  “You asked Terelle to see if the Khromatians would help us by sending us some stormlords. She and her grandfather. They’re in Khromatis, not Samphire! That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Stop jumping to conclusions.” The words sounded normal enough, but he couldn’t stop the flush rising in his cheeks. And she saw, of course.

  For a moment she was speechless, then said, “You’re mad. Given what our one true faith thinks of the religion of the ’Basters, you suggested that we import some of their sorcerers to manage our storms? And you sent the one person who was invaluable to your cloudshifting and has been helping to keep our cisterns full? Jasper, did you take leave of your senses?”

  There didn’t seem much point to any further denials; she would never believe them. He said, “They took her prisoner and killed some of the Alabasters with her. Including Feroze Khorash. Terelle is in danger, and the Bastion is risking a war on her behalf.”

  “She’s in Khromatis? And you intend to go after her? What about your stormshifting?”

  He heard real horror in her tone and winced. “Thanks to the rationing, we’re not short of water yet. In fact, I’m going to spend the rest of the time before I leave stocking Scarpen and Alabaster mother wells, and watering as many of the Gibber washes as I can. But please send a message to all the cities not to assume that my filling their cisterns now means they can abandon rationing. Supplies will be short over the next cycle.”

  “Sunlord damn you, Jasper—”

  “I trust it has not escaped your notice that I have been managing without Terelle.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed. And I have also noticed the number of your storms has been reduced since she went. Jasper, you can’t risk yourself for her. You can’t. You’re all we’ve got!” Her voice shook with fury.

  “I have to bring her back. Without stormlords or Terelle, or someone like her, we go thirsty.”

  “Jasper—no. Without you, we all die. You cannot risk yourself. That’s not just foolhardy, it’s beyond stupid. Criminal!” She stared at him, white-faced.

  “If she doesn’t come back, then we die.”

  “No, we don’t. As long as we have you and Taquar, we’re safe.”

  “Safe? Relying on that man? He brought us to our knees! Look at this city.”

  “He didn’t do that.”

  “No?” He took a deep, calming breath. “I’m going to Samphire the day after tomorrow. I’ll send Amberlyn to Iani with Zirca and Crystal. Fortunately they’re devoted to her, so there should be no problems. I doubt that Senya will object. And may I suggest that you send no messages telling Lord Gold about my intention to bring Khromatians here? It’s never going to happen, so there’s no point in arousing his religious ire.”

  “I agree, it doesn’t seem wise.” She shook her head in disbelief. “One thing about you, Jasper—you have enough gall to match Lord Gold any day.”

  That’s not quite a commitment to keep it quiet is it, Laisa? You’re the snake under the rock. Harmless until you bare your fangs… Just what are you up to now?

  She continued, “Is there nothing I can say to deter you from this course? Go talk to the Bastion, by all means. From what I hear the roads are safe enough now. But don’t cross the Borderlands. You may never come back. Send some rainlords instead.”

  “They would be helpless against the waterlords of Khromatis. And obvious too; our rainlords are all fair-skinned people, which Khromatians are not. They look more like me. Now please leave. I have some more stormshifting to do.”

  She gave him a look full of doubt and irritation, and left the room.

  Briefly, he closed his eyes, as if shutting out the visual world would also shut out his problems. At least, he thought, I can tell Terelle in person about Senya and Amberlyn.

  Oh, Terelle.

  Missing her was an ache that wouldn’t go away.

&nb
sp; Laisa went straight to visit Senya and found her entertaining some of her friends from the city. Lording it over them, Laisa thought, and sent them packing with a sweet smile and an implacable look in her eye.

  “Senya,” she said once they were alone, “we have a problem.”

  “Can’t I even have my friends visit without you—”

  “Listen. I have to get Taquar out of that cave in a hurry, much earlier than I thought.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “Jasper has decided to go to Khromatis.”

  “Why? Don’t tell me his snuggery slut went there!”

  Laisa decided it might be more diplomatic not to mention the danger Terelle was in. “To try to bring back some stormlords to help him shift storms. Trouble is, he’ll be putting himself in danger and we have to stop him. So I want Taquar out of his prison, living in Scarcleft again. Thank goodness I have all the uniforms and things I need ready. Even Lord Gold obliged with a full outfit for us to use.” He’d wanted something in return of course: a promise that his allowance would be continued and he’d be permitted to return to Breccia if Jasper was ousted from the city. Laisa had shrugged and acquiesced.

  Senya frowned, trying to take all this in. “And then what? I don’t understand.”

  “I can’t stop Jasper leaving Breccia. But I can make him come back in a hurry, before he leaves Samphire for Khromatis.”

  “How?”

  “By sending him a message telling him Taquar is free and has killed Iani. The timing is crucial, and I am not sure if we can get it all done in time…”

  “Is that enough to bring Jasper back?”

  “I certainly hope so. We have the right bait.”

  Senya pouted. “You keep saying that, but I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Amberlyn, my dear, Amberlyn. If Taquar has Jasper’s beloved daughter, we can get him to do whatever we want. For the rest of his life. And Jasper, very kindly, is sending her to Scarcleft.”