by Cas Peace
“You look better, Bull.”
He ducked his head. “Yes, I know I’ve been hitting the bottle a little too hard recently.”
She smiled. “You’re not the only one.”
Tad and two other boys arrived, deftly balancing plates of food, and Rienne spared the youngster a grin. They had all grown fond of the eager lad who never missed an opportunity to ask for news. Everyone knew he meant news of Robin, and Cal had remarked early on that the young lad had a terminal case of hero worship.
Now Tad hung back when the other lads returned to the kitchen, hopeful eyes fixed on Bull. The big man took a forkful of meat and chewed appreciatively. He looked round at the others, catching their attention.
“I’ve had some news.”
They all stopped mid-chew and Rienne dropped her eating knife. “It’s alright,” he added hastily, “it’s not bad news.”
Rienne retrieved her knife with a hand that shook, and Bull continued. “I finally sobered up enough to receive a message from Robin this morning.”
Rienne stared at him, her heart in her eyes. “How is she?”
“She’s fine … well, as fine as she can be. Listen, I’m going to tell you all an incredible tale. You might find it hard to believe. I know I did. Robin assures me it’s true, though, and it might just give us some hope.”
Eyes wide, Rienne urged Bull to continue. While they ate, he related everything Robin had told him about the journey to Caer Vellet, their reception at the Citadel, and Sullyan’s subsequent collapse. When he reached this part, Rienne’s face went pale. “I thought you said it wasn’t bad news!”
He patted her hand. “Wait till you hear the rest.” He went on to tell them what the Hierarch had revealed about Sullyan’s parents.
Taran was stunned. “That’s incredible. She can really claim kinship with the Hierarch?”
“It seems so, although it’s more of a blood bond than true kinship.”
Rienne’s face relaxed as she took in Bull’s words. “Brynne,” she murmured, trying the sound of it. “It’s an unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. I have to say it suits her.”
Bull grinned. “Knowing Sully, she won’t know what to do with it. She’s lived with just one name for so long it’ll take some getting used to.”
She nodded. “What did you mean about giving us some hope?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “According to Robin, the Hierarch says that it’s possible for Rykan to remove the poison from Sullyan’s body, undo the damage it’s done. His power put it there, so his power can remove it.”
Rienne gasped and Bull held up his hand. “He has to do it of his own free will, though. He can’t be coerced.”
She slumped, her optimism dashed. “What kind of hope is that, Bull? There’s no way he’ll do it.”
He shrugged. “I agree, it looks unlikely. But would any of us ever have thought she would end up related to the Hierarch or find out about her parents? Come on, Rienne, there’s a bit of hope here, surely?”
She gave a wan smile.
Taran thought it was time to change the subject. “Bull, have you thought any more about what we discussed a couple of days ago?”
“Going back, you mean? I’m still thinking about it. I didn’t mention it to Robin when we spoke. I think we should wait a little longer and see how things turn out. Now that Robin is reporting more often—or will do if I remain sober—we can monitor the situation and make a decision when we know more.”
Tad went back to the kitchens, and they finished their food, relaxing with cups of fellan and mulling over what they had heard. Dexter left them to attend to his duties, and slowly the commons emptied. Taran saw Cal glance at Rienne, expecting her to return to the infirmary, but she let Hanan leave without her. A subdued air of expectancy hung about the place.
Taran scraped back his chair. “Come on, Cal, I feel like doing some work. Let’s go into the arena. It’s not too cold out there yet.”
Bull stood too. “I might come with you. I could do with a workout myself. Get some of that firewater out of my system.”
Rienne shot him a sideways look. “It’s about time.”
He grinned sheepishly and threw an arm about her shoulders. Cal merely smiled, no longer threatened by Bull’s protective behavior toward Rienne.
They collected their cloaks, for despite Taran’s words it was frosty outdoors, and made their way to the arena. Some men from the Major’s company were already there, and Cal looked surprised. Taran hid a smile. He and Cal were on nodding terms with most of these men since the invasion, but they had rarely seen so many training in one place at the same time. A few gave them friendly waves. Even Dexter was there, talking to one of his corporals.
Taran found a free space for them to work in. The regular swordsmen, accustomed to Artesans, knew to keep well away, and Taran soon had his Apprentice building portways by himself, anchoring them, and then dismantling them. Once he had done a few to Taran’s satisfaction, he moved on to shielding. He was fast becoming strong and proficient.
Taran was impressed. Cal was working well, totally engrossed in what he was doing. He told Cal to go over his psyche, looking for weak spots and strengthening them. The younger man was concentrating so hard that he didn’t notice General Blaine’s arrival. The man walked quietly to the benches, sat down, and nodded to Taran. Had Cal seen him, he would have been amazed by the swordsmen’s lack of response to their highest-ranking officer. He might even have realized they had been expecting him.
Taran ended their session by having Cal compare his psyche with Taran’s. He asked him to identify the differences between them, and point out where Taran’s was stronger. Again using his Apprentice’s distraction, Taran glanced at General Blaine. He noted Cal’s puzzlement as another glowing pattern suddenly insinuated itself into his consciousness. The younger man frowned at Taran, but he only gazed back in silence. Understanding grew in Cal’s eyes and he grinned. The swordsmen around them had ceased their sparring, and both Bull and Rienne wore smiles.
Taran planted himself squarely before Cal, arms folded across his chest. “Apprentice Tyler, are you feeling strong today?”
He sensed the thrill that ran through Cal as he recognized the ritual phrasing. The young man’s grin widened. “Yes, Adept Elijah, I am feeling strong today.”
“Then your final test before becoming Apprentice-elite is to identify the Artesan behind this pattern.”
Cal paused. This wasn’t as simple as it sounded. He knew there were only a few Artesans at the Manor, but it didn’t follow that this complex and subtly glowing pattern belonged to someone he knew. It could be someone from Taran’s past. It could be someone Bull had once known. It certainly wasn’t anyone Cal recognized.
Taran watched as Cal set to work, sensed him examining the pattern’s component parts, getting glimpses of its owner through its characteristics. He knew Cal would think it might belong to Rienne, for although she was an empath rather than a full Artesan, she still had a pattern of psyche. On his first pass through it, though, Cal realized its owner was male, and silently Taran applauded his skill. Gradually, Cal built his picture. Male, middle-aged, maybe a touch older. Fairly powerful, Master-level at least. He smiled as the Apprentice suddenly caught an echo of infrequent use and saw him snatch at the clue. After one more pass Cal was convinced. He grinned at Taran, and reaching out to the person behind the glowing pattern, touched the mind it belonged to. They both felt the congratulatory response.
General Blaine dampened his psyche, came over to Cal, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, Apprentice-elite.”
It was the first normal smile Taran had ever seen the General display. Cal managed a hasty “Thank you, sir” before the men in the arena surged around him, all wanting to slap his back in congratulation.
Blaine turned to Taran. “Well done to you also, Adept. You’ve done a good job with him.”
Taran inclined his head. “It was the Major who showed
me what to do, sir. She really deserves the credit for this.”
The General’s face clouded and he turned abruptly to Bull. “I believe you have some news for me?”
“Yes sir. I heard from Captain Tamsen earlier today ….”
The two moved off together, and Taran stared after them, contemplating the change in the General’s demeanor. Then Rienne came over, put her arms around him, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Taran. This means a lot to Cal, and to me. I wish I could feel happy for him, but I seem to have forgotten how.”
Taran’s heart lurched. “I know what you mean. I wish there was more we could do.”
“So do I,” she murmured. Releasing him, she stared at the throng surrounding Cal. “So do I.”
+ + + + +
Sullyan and Robin made their way back to their suite. Once he was sure no one could overhear him, Robin asked, “How on earth did you know this Ky-shan was a pirate? I’ve never even heard you mention the eastern seaboard, let alone anything about sailing.”
She gave him a straight look, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. “Lucky guess, Robin.” He hissed in shock and she shook her head. “No, you misunderstand. What I told them was true. I have been to the eastern seaboard and I did spend time aboard a vessel whose captain and crew turned out to be free traders. It was Ky-shan’s ‘profession’ I guessed at. The style of his name gave it away. It abounds among sailors in that region. Besides, the man is obviously someone who has given much trouble. Vanyr would not have suggested him otherwise. That told me he was not just a minor noble, but someone with his own authority. There was only one obvious possibility left, so it was not really much of a guess.”
Robin didn’t look convinced. “But if he’s given so much trouble, why are you so keen to take him on?”
She sighed. “‘Keen’ is not the word I would have chosen. I knew I would not be given much choice, and I would rather accept a command of my own free will than have one forced upon me. And there is another factor here, something Vanyr probably does not know, which might make all the difference.”
He waited but she didn’t continue. “Well? What is it?”
She grinned. “Unlike the rest of this bigoted realm, it is not unusual on the eastern seaboard to find women working alongside men. Sailors, particularly legitimate traders, often spend many months at sea, and some take their women with them. It seems that easterners are more practical than these western types and can appreciate a woman’s merits.”
Robin’s troubled expression cleared and Sullyan lifted a warning hand. “Do not assume that this will make them easy to sway, Captain. It is still rare to find a woman in a position of authority, and this Ky-shan is obviously a man full of his own importance. We must be very careful. I may have to resort to a dangerous tactic in order to convince him.”
“What do you mean? What tactic?”
She refused to enlighten him and continued toward their suite. On reaching Marik’s rooms, she stopped to inform the Count of the meeting’s outcome and to extend the Hierarch’s invitation. He was pleased to learn that he would be included in her new command but was terrified of attending the dinner-party. She was aware that most of the Hierarch’s court regarded him as an enemy, even a traitor, so she could understand his nervousness. She said casually over her shoulder, “You just have to convince them of your loyalty, Ty.”
Marik didn’t say a word, and her apparent indifference gained her a sharp glance from Robin. She ignored him and returned to their suite, where she stripped off her dress uniform and indulged in a relaxing bath. At one point she heard Robin answer a knock at their door, and soon he appeared in the pool room, bearing a covered jug.
“Deshan left this for you. He said to drink it all—he’ll send more later.”
She grimaced. The drink was bound to taste foul. Healers seemed incapable of making their potions taste pleasant. However, when she emerged from the pool room and tasted the brew, she discovered that it was actually quite refreshing.
There was some food on a tray by the settle, and once they had eaten, Robin clearly expected her to rest until the dinner engagement. Sullyan had other plans. She pulled on her combat leathers and Robin frowned, watching her attach the Hierarch’s rank-badge to those she already wore.
“Where are we going now?”
She looked up. “To see Ky-shan, of course.” At his worried expression she pursed her lips. “Oh, you thought I would rest on my achievements today, did you? Well, may I remind you that this realm is at war and we came here to ensure that Rykan does not win? I intend to take the field tomorrow, so we have no time to waste. Does that not suit you, Captain? Would you rather spend your time relaxing here? You only have to say the word.”
His surprise turned to chagrin and he held up his hands. They were back on a military footing, their old working relationship re-established. Knowing she needed his wholehearted support, he replied briskly.
“Of course not, Major, I’ll be ready when you are. You can rely on me.”
Her smile warmed him. “I know I can.”
Half an hour later, they were walking through the snowy streets of the lower town, heading for the northern quarter. Alone, dressed in combat leathers and cloaks trimmed with the Hierarch’s purple, they attracted much less attention than when they had arrived three days earlier. Her weatherproof cloak concealed Sullyan’s gender and also hid her sword. She was on surer ground now that she had a clear purpose. The potion Deshan had brought her had certainly improved her vitality, and she moved with her usual grace, her gaze missing nothing.
Although they saw no one they knew on their journey, they found Ky-shan’s compound easily enough. Sullyan stopped and took in the scene. The pirate band might not be officially captive, but their freedom was certainly being restricted. There were large numbers of Velletian Guard drilling conspicuously nearby, and Sullyan noted their presence grimly. Taking a breath, she strode past them and approached the pirates’ courtyard, its entrance guarded by two huge fellows in breeches and greatcoats. Both men carried long pikes and sported thick beards, a rarity among Andaryans, who mostly went clean shaven. The two were so alike that they had to be twins. At Sullyan’s approach they stepped together, barring her way.
She halted before them and flicked back the corner of her cloak, letting them see she was armed. The two men were clearly puzzled and glanced mutely between her and Robin.
“I am Major Sullyan,” she said. “I wish to speak with Ky-shan.”
The giants fixed her with identical blank stares and remained silent. Sullyan sensed Robin preparing for trouble, but then another man appeared, strolling through the compound toward them. Medium height and powerfully built, he walked with a sinuous gait. His large, calloused hands were thrust through a thick leather belt, from which hung a heavy sword with a curved tip. Clean shaven except for a thin mustache, his eyes were very blue in his tanned and weathered face. He halted just behind his men and regarded the two Albians down a large, rudder-like nose.
Sullyan immediately gave him her attention, while he studied her with disparaging interest. Robin shifted uneasily and Sullyan was careful to keep her hands away from her sword hilt.
“Ky-shan,” she said pleasantly. “How blow the winds across the Triple Sea?”
The man called Ky-shan frowned. When he opened his mouth to reply, he displayed large and very even, white teeth. His voice was deep and he spoke slowly. “They blow westerly, steady and strong.”
She held his gaze. “Then it will be a broad reach over to Tallimore.”
From the corner of her eye she caught Robin’s bemused look. He had no idea what was going on. Thankfully, the pirate found meaning in her words and turned to the giants by the gate.
“Almid. Kester.”
Both men put up their pikes and stood aside. Ky-shan gave a dramatic flourish with his hand, inviting the Albians in. Sullyan inclined her head and stepped past him, into the pirates’ compound. Robin followed, shaking his h
ead.
Chapter Eighteen
Men were lounging about the compound in attitudes of boredom and more came strolling out of the buildings on either side. All were strong and swarthy, some darker of skin than others. Their eyes were mainly blue or grey and of a greater intensity than most Andaryans’. They were stocky rather than tall, the two by the entrance being exceptions. Their ages ranged from twenty-five to fifty-five, Ky-shan being one of the oldest. Two were much younger than the rest, younger than either Sullyan or Robin, and one of these, judging by his features, was Ky-shan’s son.
The men crowded silently around, surrounding the two Albians. Sullyan felt her Captain grow nervous and took care to hide her own discomfort. Standing confidently at Ky-shan’s side, she openly assessed his band. Most of them stared right back at her, but a few wouldn’t meet her gaze. Eventually, her eyes came to rest on Ky-shan’s son, and she probed his mind delicately. She caught the aura of raw, untrained talent and the promise of strength. The youngster didn’t respond and sullenly avoided her gaze. Withdrawing her attention, she turned to face Ky-shan.
He raised his brows. “You wished to speak with me, Lady?”
Hands on hips, she stared pointedly. “I came to see if you and your men have had enough of the easy life, Ky-shan, but by the looks of this lot, they have lost sight of what they came for. Perhaps they are content to laze here in comfort while others do the fighting and collect the bounty? I am disappointed. I thought eastern seaboarders were doughty fighters, but these do not look at all fearsome to me.”
There were gasps of outrage, the loudest coming from Ky-shan’s son. He took a step forward, his hand on his sword hilt. Ky-shan frowned deeply. Robin’s hand strayed to his own sword, and Sullyan could feel his tension. She understood. He had never heard her speak so rudely to a stranger before and had certainly never known her to goad a man so deliberately.
Contempt showed on Ky-shan’s face. “We came here to fight, Lady! It’s hardly our fault they sent us bilge-bailers instead of officers.”
