Captain Suthers saluted, then turned and the troopers went back down the stairs, Baoryn walking between them.
‘Did you see that?’ Shella said once they had gone. ‘He didn’t even look at me. In the entire fucking time that little reptile spent in Akhanawarah, he never spoke to me once, not one fucking word. Just followed Kylon around like a Holdings puppy.’
Bedig shrugged. ‘He hardly spoke to me either.’
‘It was good of him to come,’ Daphne said.
‘Must have been feeling guilty,’ Bedig said, ‘after what they did to you and Killop.’
Daphne raised her right hand for assistance, and Bedig helped her to her feet.
‘Let’s get some tea,’ she said.
They went to a large, warm sitting room, with a wood fire burning. Daphne rang the bell, and got settled into a huge armchair. Shella and Bedig found seats close by.
Servants brought in tea, and set up a table by the fire.
‘Could you pour, Shella?’ Daphne asked after they had gone.
Shella wrinkled her nose. ‘Yuck. I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.’
‘It’s all that’s keeping me going,’ Daphne said.
The door opened and Celine walked in.
‘You heard the news?’
Daphne looked up as Shella poured.
‘The alliance has broken into the tunnel. Whole army’s storming through, apparently.’
‘I thought Rahain mages had blocked it up,’ Daphne said, picking up the sugar bowl.
Celine rolled her eyes. ‘The whole town is in raptures over some crazy vision mage, who scaled the mountains, got past a fort and into the tunnel, and then blew out the blockage from the inside.’
Shella laughed. ‘Do we have a name for this dashing hero?’
‘Benel.’
Daphne shrugged. ‘Don’t know him. But then, I’m not exactly close to any of the other Holdings mages.’
‘That’s because most of them are priests,’ Shella said.
‘Benel’s not,’ Celine said. ‘He’s a mage-scout, belongs to the army.’
‘That’ll be why they’ve made his name known,’ Daphne said. ‘The mage-priests creep about in the shadows.’
‘Or just lie to your face,’ Shella muttered.
Celine looked around, and lit a cigarette. ‘Got anything to drink?’
‘Tea,’ Daphne said, stirring sugar into her cup.
Celine sighed, and sat. ‘We can’t be out of booze.’
‘We’re not,’ Daphne said, ‘I’m just rationing it. It’s costing me a fortune, and we need to be more discreet anyway.’
Shella winked at Celine. ‘She’s just pissed off she can’t have any.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Daphne, in half a third or thereabouts, you’ll be able to drink again. By then you’ll have a baby, so you’ll have plenty reason to drink.’
‘I wish Ariel was here,’ Daphne said. ‘No offence to you three, but she knows what it’s like.’
‘My sister Noli had sixteen brats,’ Shella said. ‘I have experience, believe me.’
‘Sounds like a nightmare,’ Celine said. ‘Sixteen in one go. I mean, how could you even remember which one was which?’
‘It took a while,’ Shella laughed. ‘I think I was still getting some of their names wrong before I left. But the mothers see their spawn in the pools for thirds, when they’re still swimmers. Apparently that’s when they bond.’
‘Spawn,’ Celine said. ‘Sounds…’
‘You can say it,’ Shella said. ‘Sounds like frogs.’
Celine flushed. ‘I didn’t mean that!’
Shella laughed. ‘It’s okay. I don’t expect mere monkeys to understand.’
‘That’s what you say,’ Celine said. ‘I don’t think we come from monkeys.’
‘Come on,’ Shella said, ‘you and the Kellach? And the Sanang are practically swinging from the trees.’
‘Apes,’ Daphne said, pouring some milk into her cup.
‘What?’
‘We come from apes, not monkeys.’
Shella rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever.’
‘But you believe in the creator,’ Celine said.
Daphne shrugged. ‘I didn’t say I understood it. I read some science books in Rahain while I was there, and it was enough to convince me, but I don’t know how to reconcile that with the existence of the creator.’
‘It’s all just folk guessing,’ Bedig said, the teacup tiny in his massive hands. ‘None of us know anything about the world, or the gods, or how we got here. I remember back in Brig, when all we knew was Pyre, the fire god. This was before we knew there were any others races in the world, or religions. We were so sure. Even though we were doubtful about some of the legends, most of us still believed. And it was all a load of crap. The Rahain proved that when they destroyed the god’s mountain. The bastards levelled it.’
The others listened in silence.
‘And then we knew,’ he went on. ‘There was no fire god coming to save us. There had been no fire god all along. Out of all the Rahain we met, none of them believed in any gods either. It was only when we arrived at your city, Shella, that we realised that other people had their own gods.’
‘The Rakanese are so gullible,’ Shella said. ‘Back home there are thousands of gods and demi-gods and spirits and everything in between. Some people even worshipped my sister as a god during the Migration. She had her own cult priestess.’
‘So not only are you a princess,’ Daphne said, picking up her tea, ‘but you’re related to a god.’
Shella smirked. ‘I could handle that. I think I’d make a pretty fucking good god. Except for the living forever shit. I mean, who wants to live forever? How excruciatingly dull, having to watch feeble mortals fighting each other for all eternity.’
Daphne smiled and drank her tea. There was a loud thump to her right.
Shella slapped the teacup from Daphne’s hand, sending it flying across the room. The Rakanese woman pounced on her, putting her right hand on Daphne’s chest, her eyes fierce.
Daphne felt her stomach tighten in a burst of agony, and she gagged, bringing up the hot tea and spewing it over the front of Shella’s housecoat. Shella backed off, and Daphne retched again, her chest burning with pain.
Shella raised her hand. ‘We got it all out.’
She turned to where Bedig was on his knees, vomiting. She walked over to him, and ran her fingers down his back.
‘You’ll be okay Bedig,’ she said. ‘You Kellach seem to throw up poison on your own.’
‘Poison?’ Daphne said, gazing around the room, her throat on fire.
Shella pulled off her housecoat, sick dripping from it.
‘I’ll get the servants,’ Celine said, getting to her feet.
‘No,’ Shella said.
She walked over to the table and extended her hand towards the teapot.
‘Fungal spores of some kind,’ she said. ‘Toxic. Well, except to those brutes.’ She nodded at Bedig, who was sitting on the floor, rubbing his stomach. ‘Water’s clean, though,’ she went on, and poured a glass.
‘Here,’ she said, passing it to Daphne. ‘Swill it round your mouth and spit it out.’
Daphne took the glass. ‘Thank you. For saving me, I mean.’ She filled her mouth with the cool water, and spat it back into the glass.
‘It was one of the servants,’ she said, trying to clear her thoughts. ‘Is the baby all right?’
‘Sure,’ Shella said. ‘We got it out in time.’
‘You got it out, you mean,’ Daphne said. ‘That’s twice you’ve saved me.’
Celine sat back down, staring at the teapot. ‘Who would do this? Why would anyone try to kill you, Daphne?’
‘Maybe they weren’t after me,’ she said.
Shella gave a wry smile. ‘The servants all know I hate tea, and I hardly think that Bedig is worth assassinating. No offence.’
The Brig grunted, wiping sick from his face.
‘And the tea was a
lready served when I came in,’ Celine said. She shook her head. ‘Listen, I probably should have told you before, I mean I guess you already know…’
‘What?’ Daphne said.
Celine flushed. ‘There are people in the city who don’t like you.’
Daphne frowned.
‘As your sister-in-law,’ Celine went on, ‘people don’t say much to my face, but I can sense the hostility from some quarters, and I get hints and insinuations, and groups stop talking when I enter a room. Some are old enemies, who’ve never forgiven your part in the conspiracy a couple of years back, and others hate you for a different reason.’
Daphne narrowed her eyes, trying to remain calm.
‘What reason?’
‘The baby,’ Celine whispered.
‘What about it?’ Daphne snapped.
‘I’ve heard some pretty nasty things being said,’ Celine frowned. ‘Some of the priests in particular have taken against you. Not all of them. Most are reconciled to your pardon, and wish you no harm, I’m sure, but there are a few…’
‘I don’t understand,’ Shella said. ‘There’s no law here against having a baby.’
‘They say it’s unnatural,’ Celine said, ‘mixing the blood of Holdings and Kellach Brigdomin. And the fact that you’re a mage, a high mage really, and the father is the brother of another powerful mage. Some fear what will result.’
‘And do you?’
‘Of course not, Daphne,’ Celine cried. ‘I joined this family when I married Vince, and I’m Holdfast now. I’m proud to call you my sister.’
‘Thank you,’ Daphne said. ‘Sorry for doubting.’
‘That’s all right. Someone’s just tried to poison you and your baby. You’re entitled to be pissed off.’
‘Yes. Someone in this house.’
She turned to Bedig. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Pretty much better,’ he said. He stood, picked up the flagon of water, and drank a pint’s worth.
‘Stand by the door,’ she said. ‘Make sure no one gets in.’
‘Aye, miss,’ he said. He walked over to the door and leaned against it.
‘So,’ Daphne said, ‘how do we catch them?’
Shella and Celine cleaned up the sickness and spilt tea, and swept away the remains of the broken cup, while Daphne sat, her back aching. She rang the bell and sighed, longing for the day when she could move without the extra weight.
The door opened, and Daphne readied herself.
‘Mistress?’ her housekeeper said, two other servants behind her.
‘I’m afraid we were so busy chatting,’ Daphne said, ‘that we allowed the tea to go cold. Could I trouble you for a fresh pot, please?’
‘Of course, mistress.’ She signalled to the man and woman behind her, and they came forward.
Daphne focussed on the housekeeper’s eyes, and entered her mind.
An air of impatience, a tired feeling of duty, a longing for spring.
She blinked, and turned to the young male servant.
Hunger, nervousness around the mistress and the princess, a fondness for Celine.
Daphne pulled back, feeling tired and sick, and moved on to the other female, Mona, a middle-aged woman whom she recognised from many years of service to the family.
Hate, confusion, fear.
Daphne withdrew from the woman’s mind, almost gagging again, a headache growing behind her temples. She nodded to Bedig and pointed.
‘Her.’
The housekeeper blinked. ‘What is it, mistress?’
Bedig stepped forward, and grasped Mona by the shoulder.
‘Get off me, you godless savage.’
‘Send someone you trust to summon the nearest guard patrol,’ Daphne said to the housekeeper, the ache in her head intense, ‘and let no one else leave. She might not have been working alone.’
‘I don’t understand, mistress.’
‘Someone tried to poison me and my baby,’ Daphne said, ‘and everyone else in this room.’
The housekeeper nodded, her eyes wide, and left the room, the male servant rushing after her.
‘Mona,’ Daphne said, squinting from the pain, ‘you’ve been with my family for years. I can remember you from the estate when I was a child. Why did you do this? Have I hurt you in some way?’
‘Whore,’ Mona spat. ‘You have sinned against the creator, the abomination you carry in your womb is a wicked crime against him. You are a curse upon the sacred magelines of the Holdings. We are the chosen people, not the Kellach. The creator chose us to fulfil his plan, and you have polluted his vision, by lying with another race.’
‘Well,’ said Shella, ‘I think that might count as a confession.’
Daphne said nothing. She sat back in the armchair, her headache subsiding. She had guessed that some of the more fanatical in the church might fear the birth of her child. She had pondered the mingling of vision and fire skills herself, and what it might mean for the baby’s future. But that was a question for over a decade hence, as mage powers became evident in one’s teens, no matter which race someone belonged to.
‘Do you have nothing to say, whore?’ Mona cried.
Shella stood and slapped her across the face.
‘You degenerate toad,’ Mona said, her lip bleeding, but standing tall and proud, Bedig’s firm hand on her shoulder. ‘Your people came crying to us, and we fed you and gave you what you asked for. Now you serve us. We are your masters now.’
Shella raised her hand.
‘She’s baiting you,’ Daphne said. ‘Don’t give her what she wants. Leave it to the authorities to punish her.’
Mona laughed. ‘I will be happy to take the stand in a trial. I will denounce you to the world. When the judges ask me why I did it, I will tell them, and I’ll also tell them of the narcotics and alcohol that have been consumed here. You arrogant nobles! You think the rest of us beneath you, those who serve your every petty whim. Your mother’s a good woman. I know why she isn’t here, she is ashamed of you, humiliated at your behaviour.’
‘How dare you speak of my mother,’ Daphne said. ‘You have betrayed the family.’
‘The Holdfast name is beyond redemption,’ Mona said. ‘Between you and your father, you have dragged it through the sewers.’
Mona choked, blood appearing on her lips, a knife point emerging from her chest.
Bedig jumped back, as Celine pushed Mona to the floor, a bloody dagger in her hands.
‘Celine!’ Daphne cried.
Celine gazed down at the body of Mona, blood leaking from her mouth and chest.
‘She tried to assault you,’ she said, her voice toneless. ‘She would have killed you. I stopped her.’
‘That’s what I saw,’ Bedig said.
‘Fucksake, Celine,’ Shella said. ‘I could have done it without any blood, made it look like a heart attack.’
‘More realistic this way, I think,’ Celine said.
‘All of you stop,’ Daphne said. ‘I knew her. I’ve known Mona since I was little.’
They stood in silence for a moment, before the door burst open, and a sergeant of the town guard strode in, a pair of troopers and the housekeeper behind him.
He took in the bloody scene on the floor. ‘Mistress?’
‘This servant tried to poison us,’ Daphne said. ‘The teapot there, have it checked. While I was asking her why she did it, she attacked me. Thankfully Celine was here, and she protected me. She saved my life.’
The sergeant walked over.
Celine stood trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks, the knife clutched in her hand.
‘Your Highness,’ the sergeant nodded to Shella.
He took the knife from Celine, and knelt by the body of Mona.
‘Did she say why she did it?’
‘An old family grudge,’ Daphne said. ‘She’d been harbouring it for years, and had waited until my father had departed so I would be alone.’
The sergeant stood and picked up the teapot, sniffing it.
>
‘All the same,’ Daphne said, ‘I’ll miss her. I had no idea how she felt.’
The sergeant nodded.
‘We’ll come back for statements in the morning,’ he said. ‘For now, we’ll leave you in peace.’
The two troopers picked up Mona’s body, and the sergeant took the knife and teapot.
‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ Daphne said as they left. She put her head in her hands, exhausted.
The housekeeper remained, staring at the patch of blood on the carpet.
Shella nodded to her.
‘I think the mistress of the house could do with some more tea.’
Chapter 24
The Call
Severed City, Rahain Republic – 30th Day, First Third Winter 505
The sun was low in the western sky, and shadows rolled up the long frozen valley where Killop and a squad of warriors lay hidden.
The road through the valley was quiet, as was the entire countryside around the Severed City. Killop had taken the squad out further than normal, though this time he was not looking for Kellach slaves to free.
The Rahain convoy came into view. Four carriages, just as the scout had reported. They were heading west, away from the rebel city and towards the security of the Rahain heartlands. The wagon-wheels crackled on the icy surface of the road, and the gaien lumbered along, their breath creating clouds of mist by their lowered heads. Four guards sat atop each of the carriages, their crossbows aimed outwards, their eyes scanning the valley for danger.
Killop pulled his own crossbow up, and peered through the thick, thorny undergrowth, looking along the sighting peg. He waited. The cold was severe, as harsh as it had been all winter.
Two shots each, then charge, those had been his orders to the squad.
The first carriage passed by, then the second. As the third drew level, he aimed and loosed.
A Rahain soldier twisted in the air as the bolt struck his shoulder, and the rest of the squad began shooting, peppering the guards.
Killop aimed again, and got off his second shot, into the stomach of a soldier who was hit at the same time by another bolt in his leg.
He flung the crossbow over his shoulder and pulled himself to his feet. With his thick cloak wrapped around him, he barrelled through the thorn bush, roaring his war cry.
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