by Katy Winter
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When the travellers got to within half a mile of the city, they could distantly see a cloud of dust that coalesced into a large body of horsemen approaching purposefully at a gallop. Knellen rode out the front on his own, surprisingly untroubled and quite relaxed in the saddle. He signalled a halt to those behind him and drew up to await the fast closing riders who were Varen. They looked very big and forbidding. Arrived in front of the travellers, the Varen riders milled about then fell into the usual formation of aggressive intent. One rode forward.
“We’ve watched your approach. Name yourself, brother.”
“I answer to Knellen.”
“Knellen of Castelus?”
“Yes.”
“You are sought.”
“I am, yes.”
“Word was sent to us that you and others would attempt to enter the city. Why make such a fool of yourself, brother? You must know what awaits you.”
“I do, possibly.”
“So why have you come?”
“We ask for an audience with your Cynas, that is all.”
“He is warned you and your companions are a potential danger and must be dealt with. It is our duty to stop you. The Red Council wish to interrogate you all, one by one. Do you understand?”
“We do.”
“You will also be disarmed lest you try to struggle against what comes to each and every one of you who may choose to threaten the Patriarch.” The pointed teeth were revealed by a smile that was decidedly unfriendly. The Varen’s look took in the silent Castelus Varen riders who sat motionless behind the Doms and Companions. “The Varen behind you are, we are led to believe, traitors to the Cynas of Castelus. They will be dealt with also.”
Knellen shifted slightly in the saddle as he half-turned to look back at the Varen behind him, their faces expressionless, before he turned back to the Varen spokesman of Arrain-Toh and, for the first time, lifted his head so he looked directly at him.
“Your nomen?”
“I answer to Lisle.”
“Do you carry a writhling?”
Lisle’s face wore a sudden but fleeting expression of revulsion.
“It is to be done to us by the Red Council in the next two to three days.”
“Why? Do they doubt your loyalty?”
Lisle stared hard at Knellen, his fascinated gaze drawn to the strange and compelling eyes that looked so uncompromisingly into his.
“We are eternally loyal to the Cynas and the Red Council. We are the instruments of their control and power,” came the stiff reply.
“So were those with me,” responded Knellen gently. “They, too, were to have writhlings inserted by their Cynas and Red Council.”
“So why are they not doing their duty, brother?”
“They are. They are doing their duty to me and to their Red Council who owe allegiance to my master. They do not need writhlings to do so.”
“Your Cynas?” gasped Lisle incredulously.
“No, brother, to my master who is not Cynas Jamir: he is the master of the Red Councils and through that, of you and yours, as he is of me and mine from Castelus. The Red Council have promised him obedience, as have I and as have the Varen with me. It supersedes all other allegiances I may have, including to my Cynas. It is my duty.” Knellen paused and eyed Lisle thoughtfully. “I smell your fear of the writhlings, brother. Can you deny it?”
He saw beads of sweat on Lisle’s forehead.
“Do you not also?”
“Indeed I did, brother, but one among those who travel with me took me to someone who removed the one my Cynas had inserted in me. I owe that man my life.”
Lisle hesitated in a way uncharacteristic for a Varen.
“You carried one and survived?”
“I did.”
There was a collective indrawn breath from all about Lisle.
“We have been told we must submit to this as it is our duty.”
Knellen was highly thoughtful, his bright, large and beady eyes surveying the Varen in front of him.
“It does not have to be,” he said finally. “Though it is highly unusual and irregular for the Varen, in this case you do have a choice. You will not have writhlings inserted if you lead us to your Patriarch and Red Council for an audience. That is all we ask and we will come under your guard. The Varen with us will remain outside the gates.” There was a very long silence. “I do not, nor never would, ask you to go against what you are bred to do, brother. That is not the Varen way. I merely offer an alternative you may not have considered. You will still be doing your duty by bringing us into the city under guard. I will give you my weapons as a pledge of my intentions but the others will stay armed until an audience is reached. They may then accept being disarmed in your Cynas’ presence.”
“That is acceptable,” acquiesced Lisle. He glanced again at Knellen. “How can you ensure there is no writhling?”
Knellen’s pointed teeth actually gleamed as he smiled widely.
“I am trusting to your Varen honour, brother, as you must trust to mine.”
He got an answering smile that Saracen didn’t trust at all.
“Then follow,” instructed Lisle, turning his horse. “You will disarm inside the gate, brother.”
“I will.”
Knellen glanced back at the Doms and the Companions, beckoned to them, nodded curtly at the still mounted Varen who responded with bent heads of acknowledgement, then rode smartly after the city troop.
They cantered easily until they reached enormously daunting gates. These were instantly drawn back so they could enter without hindrance, only other city Varen guards eying them askance, especially Belika who rode with her long hair flowing free. Inside the entrance they all dismounted, Varen included, and were escorted to a waiting conveyance where they were ushered onto seats. They waited for the vehicle to move noiselessly forward, winging its way above the shuffling, surging crowds below. No one spoke.
When the vehicle slowed the travellers could see it was well beyond the city walls and when it came to rest, with a sway and a slight jolt, it could be seen they’d been brought some distance to what was a grandiose entrance. Once more on solid ground the travellers were now moved quickly up wide steps to a plaza where what looked like officials walked about in a business-like manner, their uniforms clearly indicative of status. Some looked pompous and self-important, others preoccupied and yet more had harried anxious looks about them.
One official, clad in a green robe, approached Lisle, beckoned him, drew him aside and conversed with him, his head every so often going back to look over the travellers in an assessing and decidedly calculating way. Then Lisle turned to Knellen.
“It is here you will disarm, brother. I will take personal care of your weapons. A strange Varen may never enter the presence of another Cynas armed, as you know.”
Knellen nodded and obligingly gave Lisle his arms, aware as he did of Javen’s high levels of stress and Saracen’s distrust of Lisle.
“May we now proceed?” he asked affably.
“The Mogon will escort us from this point, brother. I ask you to follow.”
Knellen inclined his head calmly in a way that confounded Lisle because he could neither smell nor scent the slightest trace of emotion about this strange-eyed Varen who appeared to be quite fearless, relaxed and untroubled by his possible horrid fate. It was baffling and unsettling.
The travellers traversed corridors and wide, circular staircases in a palace that made Quon grind his teeth at the opulence, before they finally reached the audience chamber of the Cynas. Once Jepaul would have stood breathless and stunned at the richness of the chamber. But now, standing on the threshold, he was repelled by it, aware, as he stood there, that others of Arrain-Toh struggled to exist and did so under appalling conditions of hunger and hardship. His lip curled disdainfully.
Harnath, Patriarch of Arrain-Toh, sat on a dais in a chair. It was studded with precious stones set in solid gold and chased in silver, other than the
back and seat that were deeply piled in velvet for his comfort. His feet reposed on an equally richly ornate stool and emtori scuttled about to obey his slightest behest. He held a gold goblet in one bejewelled hand and now casually turned his head to survey those granted an audience.
His voice was surprisingly light. He was heavily overweight, almost obese and his mouth was sullenly down-turned in a way that showed chronic ill-temper and petulance. The full lips showed self-indulgence. His eyes were calculating and his expression hard to read.
“So, travellers, you come to the end of a long road, do you? Are you fools that you willingly enter my lair? Can you conceive of the pleasures that await me and the Red Council as we treat you as you deserve?” There was an eerie silence at his words. Harnath stretched a little forward to peer at the group. “Not only stupid,” he announced. “But unable to speak either. Is it fear? Can you smell it?” he demanded of Lisle.
“No, my Cynas. I smell nothing.”
“Odd,” commented Harnath, again leaning forward. “We must give them some treatment that will engender the appropriate pain and fear. Bring them closer. I will speak to each in turn. Start with the tall one with the red hair.”
Lisle obeyed. He gestured at Ebon who strode forward, stood uncompromisingly and waited.
“Name yourself,” came the light voice.
“I answer to Coal.”
“Why do you come?”
“I travel with my friends across Shalah, nothing more.”
“What do you seek?”
“Justice.”
Harnath laughed and waved him back. He gestured at Sapphire.
“And you? On the same quest then?”
“Aye,” answered Sapphire, with a broad accent new to his travelling companions. “I answer to Marin but I seek retribution.”
“Another optimistic fool,” commented Harnath, now thoroughly entertained and relaxed. “And you are?” he asked, indicating Wind Dancer.
“I am Wind and like the others simply travel hither and yon as the whim takes me.”
“And what do you seek?”
“Not much, Cynas. Just answers.”
“A pointless quest, you poor old fool. Step forward you!” he commanded Quon. Quon obliged. “Well, old man?”
“Same as the others,” he replied in an inconsequentially bland tone that made Harnath stare at him. “I’m Sand and yes, I seek answers, retribution, and justice. I also seek the truth and true enlightenment.”
“Do you indeed? How amusing. You all have such noble aspirations that will come to nought. Such is existence.” This time Harnath laughed jovially. “I find you all unexpected and decidedly unusual. Maybe I shall delay your fates a little longer so you can indulge me in some discourse as we dine a time or two. Why not? You’re in my power and can go nowhere, not even though I see you’re all heavily armed. That, of course, can’t be permitted. You’ll be disarmed after this audience.” Harnath now gestured at Saracen. “You’re smaller than the others but you look very fit. Who are you?”
“Saracen from the north. I travel with friends.”
“How quaint. For what reason?”
“Friendship.”
“Even quainter!”
Harnath dismissed him and turned his eyes on Belika. He pursed his lips as she was pushed forward by Lisle. The eyes surveyed her from head to toe as the patriarch mentally stripped her bare.
“You are very unusual, woman. What is your name?”
“Belika from the north.”
“Same as the little man,” mused Harnath thoughtfully. “And do you travel for friendship, too?”
“I do.”
“Now that is interesting. I see you and I will have time together, more than the others, my dear, because you will entertain me in a way differently from them and, I can promise you, it will be often whether you think so or not.” Harnath licked his lips in an anticipatory and predatory manner. Belika stayed rigid and silent. Harnath turned his head to Lisle. “Take her, now, disarm her and have her prepared for me. Once this audience is over I shall come to her. And, Varen, if she appears unwilling have her shackled in the appropriate way. She will respond and will later require no restraints. I shall see to that, as will she when she learns not to do so is highly unwise.” None of the travellers moved in her defence which made Harnath raise an eyebrow. “Does no one question my action?”
“No,” replied Knellen stepping forward, his head respectfully bent in the way of the Varen.
“So you are this Knellen I’ve heard about?”
“Yes, honoured Cynas.”
“You approach your fate, Varen, along with these enemies of Jamir. What have you to say?”
“That I am here to serve you in whatever capacity you wish.”
“You’ll answer to my Red Council and pay the price not yet paid to Cynas Jamir of Castelus, nor will you leave here alive. You will pay in full, Varen.”
“I obey.”
“Until then you will go with the woman and assist with her preparation, something you may not wish to do as she is clearly a friend to you all. That will be the start of what you will experience, Knellen, and you will also watch what I do to her. You may even find you are required to participate in a way alien to you and all Varen. That will amuse me too.” Harnath glanced across at Javen and his eyes widened with incredulity and delight. “Well, well,” he drawled. “It’s long since we’ve met, Javen of Arrain-Toh. Your life’s forfeit.”
“Yes,” responded Javen morosely.
“You want more of the same as before, do you? Wasn’t it enough, Javen? Does torture and humiliation mean so much to you?”
“I travel with companions, Harnath. Since they came here, I accompanied them.”
“Do you remember how you once studied texts you said were associated with the Island?” Javen was silent. “Answer me!”
“Yes.”
“I destroyed them, Javen, and all like you who believed in such ancient rhetoric and nonsense.” Harnath smiled but it wasn’t a smile of warmth. It was cruel. “Like Knellen, Javen, you’ll not leave here alive. Be sure of that. You’ll all submit to the Red Council, including the woman when I’m done with her, an experience you’ve not yet enjoyed, any of you. And who, then, are you?”
This time Harnath beckoned Jepaul forward.
“I’m Light, Cynas. And I’m a seeker too, but what I seek is all the others rolled into one and it is an end to darkness.”
“What darkness?”
“The darkness wherein many walk, blind and ignorant and savage.”
“You speak like a philosopher, young man. You could be one with whom it would be possible to argue so it’s unfortunate you ally yourself with such fools. Your fate will be the same as theirs. Stand back.”
Harnath again gestured at Knellen and Belika. Lisle and two other city Varen converged on them, they were immediately shackled and their companions watched them removed from the audience chamber, their faces expressionless. Harnath smiled again at Javen. Another gesture saw another Varen cross to Javen, manhandle him ungently and hustle him away, Javen’s expression bleak.
“Now, my prisoner friends,” went on Harnath sweetly, “you will be disarmed, contained in my cells until we meet again for food and discourse, then tomorrow you will be interrogated by my Red Council. After that enlightening experience you will be readied for the initial purging. Prepare yourselves.”
Harnath waved a dismissive hand, but, as he did, the Varen guards still present went quite rigid and the Cynas felt a severe neuralgia in his temples, across the top of his head and down his face. The pain was intense. When he went to speak, he couldn’t. He felt as if lasers cut across his mind, dissected it, excised something he couldn’t comprehend, then left it. He came to, gasping, hands to his head. He felt deeply sick and stared blankly at men blandly regarding him. He didn’t notice the travellers remained armed as he gestured weakly at the Varen who also looked faintly bewildered as they hurried to obey and escort the travellers from t
he chamber.
The Varen carefully guided the travellers lower into the palace to where there were many occupied cells. Wretched faces peered through bars as they passed, until they were halted at a very large cell, bare but for a couple of palliasses, a chair and a few broken pieces of crockery. Unexpectedly one number short, the travellers were somewhat roughly and peremptorily propelled into it by the prison guards who stripped the prisoners of weaponry they piled up in the corridor, before they slammed shut and locked the cell door then sauntered away. There was no sign of Javen. Just before they entered the cell Quon spoke urgently with Saracen.
“You know where the key is, little man. We have that information from Harnath but not a clear understanding of who gave it to him. Encourage Belika to find out. Good luck, Saracen, and for the demons, take care.”
Saracen was gone on the words. He effaced himself wherever he went. He carefully insinuated himself with emtori at the first opportunity, stripped off his outer tunic that he tied round his waist, and found an unused emtori loose robe that covered him, almost from head to foot. It was an excellent disguise because it hid his weaponry and he looked as rough and disreputable as those he found himself among. He slunk along corridors and stairways until he reached the upper levels of the palace. There he began to ask, indirectly and casually, where the Cynas was as he was sent with a message and was also expected to take food and drink to the noble Patriarch. Where could he find refreshments and where should he take it? He was given impatient instructions, a few clouts and kicks, was verbally abused and finally found a food station where he calmly helped himself to food and drink then, fortified, collected a tray and began to fill it with sweetmeats, pastries and two full, large wine carafes, the red wine glinting ruby in the light, the sort of fare he guessed would be sampled by Harnath with pleasure. Carefully, Saracen began a laborious climb, unhindered, to the highest level of the palace and then began the circuitous route to the palatial quarters of the Cynas.
Belika was in one of the Patriarch’s extensive suites. She was peremptorily ordered to disarm which she calmly did. Lisle then spoke to his Varen, commanding them to leave him with Knellen and the woman. They hastily complied.
“Knellen, you know only a little what awaits you. We have, many of us, experienced what you now face with Harnath. It is physicality he knows repels us and not just with a woman but with himself. Our duty has enforced our obedience.”
“I understand.”
Lisle hesitated, then added, “I shall call those whose duty it is to prepare women.”
“Do so,” came the cold answer.
“But before I do, I shall remove your shackles. You do not need them to obey, do you?”
“No.”
In response to Lisle, two women in emtori attire came into the room. They approached Belika who impassively stood while she was stripped, allowed herself to be oiled and scented, then her body powdered, before silver shackles were clasped about her ankles and wrists. The women then disappeared. A eunuch, large and bald, walked into the room, nodded across the chamber to the two Varen, looked closely at Belika, then indicated she was to mount onto the bed.
“Do you lie willingly for our noble Patriarch, woman, or do I lock you down?”
Belika glanced up at the man towering over her.
“I submit,” was the answer in oddly meek tones.
“You are wise,” approved the eunuch, staring down at her. He frowned slightly. “To be locked down can be unpleasant. You are unlike others, larger too. You are fit and fulsome.” He ran a hand down between legs that he expertly parted. “He will have mellow play with one such as you.” His fingers moved with sudden practiced precision. “You’re not virgin. He wished to know if you were or no.”
Belika flinched at the suddenness and strength of the assault, but now lay passive as the fingers were abruptly withdrawn. They then passed lightly over her body, from inside her mouth to her feet.
“You are acceptable,” came the comment as the eunuch straightened. “You don’t require further preparation. You will remain as I place you.” The hands now moved again. “You do not alter your position until the Patriarch comes. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“The usual protocol is this, woman. The Patriarch enjoys as he chooses. You may respond in two ways. You can be passive or you can fight. If you fight it makes the Patriarch more violent and extreme. If you are passive he will try to provoke you to resist so he can respond more aggressively. He likes rough play.” The eunuch gave a chilly smile. “Either way, woman, you are unlikely to enjoy the experience. Indeed, I hope you survive it. Prepare yourself.”
The eunuch was gone.
Knellen and Lisle stood apart though Knellen watched Belika from the corner of his eye. He knew she had herself well under control, nor was the Varen under any illusions about what a warrior woman’s reaction to her treatment would be. He waited, his conversation with Lisle deliberately non-committal and casual as he asked about life for the Varen at Arrain-Toh and vaguely answered questions about his travels. Time passed. Belika lay motionless.
Finally, a knock at the door had Lisle move swiftly to open it. He saw a small, stocky emtori standing there with a tray.
“I bring refreshments for the Cynas, Master.” Knellen carefully avoided Saracen’s eye as Lisle went to take the tray. “I’ll carry it, Master,” offered Saracen, coming into the room and standing deferentially. “Does the Cynas like to eat by the bed?’
“Put it by the far side of the bed then get out before he sights you and has you flogged for dirtying his suite,” advised Lisle sensibly.
He turned away and went back to Knellen and continued their interrupted conversation. Belika watched Saracen’s approach with her head cocked to one side.
“Quickly,” she whispered.
Saracen, under pretence of laying out food and wine, spoke urgently before he finished with a clear description of where the key and prison cells were and where he’d be waiting for she and Knellen.
“Is there anything else?” he asked anxiously. “What about the shackles?”
“The eunuch checked them and put the key to them on the far table. Can you put it under the pillow?”
Saracen strolled casually over to the table, placed the empty tray there, then sauntered back to the far side of the bed, fidgeted with the wine carafe, put a small silver key under the pillow then returned for the tray. He quietly left the room.
Just as he did, a door on the other side of the chamber opened and Harnath billowed into the chamber in a voluminous robe that swathed his corpulence. He walked to the bed to smile gloatingly down at Belika, before he spoke curtly to Lisle.
“Leave the room. You will mount guard outside. Knellen here will oblige me, I believe, as his obedience is unquestioned.”
Lisle bowed low.
“My Cynas,” he murmured.
Harnath turned to Knellen with an amused expression.
“I will have some pleasure with you later, Knellen, as I see considerable enjoyment lies here before me for a while. You will, however, strip, so when I require your obedience you will be prepared. With you and this woman I expect to be fully preoccupied as time goes by. Obey me. Disrobe.”
Knellen acknowledged he had to do what to Varen was repellent, even repulsive. It was doing something unknown to most. As part of the role he’d chosen to take in Arrain-Toh he simply had to set his teeth and obey the curt order without emotion. He knew eyes watched his every move as he disrobed and that Harnath took pleasure from his extreme discomfiture at doing so. Naked, he stood erect and silent, aware eyes now went from his head to his feet.
“If nothing else, Varen make very fine physical specimens, Knellen. You’re no exception. You will now wait in silence.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sure you do.”
And this time Harnath’s smile was very cruel and his expression quite unpleasantly predatory.