She’d kill the entire population of the Castle if she could, for your sake.
Tarod laughed softly, and the old woman grimaced.
‘Oh, I can sympathise with her feelings - but I won’t be a party to any wrongdoing. I could release her, but she won’t flee the Castle; not without the stone, and not without you. And if I tell her where the stone is hidden, she’ll find it … and she’ll use it.
Still Tarod said nothing, and Erminet prompted uncomfortably, ‘There’s more to that stone than I know, isn’t there? Perhaps more than anyone knows, save you
He sighed, the sound echoing oddly in the dark room.
‘I’ve never denied what I am, Sister Erminet; nor have I denied the nature of the stone. Without it, I’m only half alive; yet it’s more than a receptacle for … well, my spirit, for want of a better word.
‘Your soul?
‘If you like. Whether it’s an evil gem or not depends on how you view such things. But the Circle can’t control it, even with me gone.’ He looked up at her, and his eyes burned intensely. ‘Cyllan’s right. I need it, if I’m to survive.
It was what she had expected to hear, and Erminet nodded with some reluctance. ‘Then I’ll ask just one thing of you.
‘What is it?
‘Your word on a single question. Either you’re a man of honour, or I’m a fool - and I think I’ve learned sound judgement in all my years. If Cyllan is released - escapes, shall we say - and she retrieves that stone and brings it to you … what will you do then?
It was a question Tarod hadn’t dared to ask himself during his imprisonment. Once, he had held an idealistic belief that the stone must be destroyed, even if it meant his own annihilation - but the humanity that was so paradoxically tied to the stone, and which had been lost with it, had wiped that slate clean. Cyllan had added her own influence, albeit one that he welcomed, and Tarod no longer knew what his ultimate goal would be. All he knew - and knew without a shadow of uncertainty - was that he wanted to live.
He lowered his gaze. ‘I’d become what I once was. I’d be - complete.
‘Yes,’ said Erminet. ‘I know.’ She wouldn’t allow herself to ask for the assurance she needed. It must come from him, unprompted, or it would be worth nothing.
A long silence ensued. Then, at last, Tarod said, ‘Vengeance would achieve nothing, Sister. I don’t crave it - I like to think I’m above such emotions, even if that sounds like arrogance. If the stone was in my possession once more - ‘ Now he looked up again, and Erminet read a terrifying message in his eyes. He could, if he chose, destroy the Castle and all who dwelt within its walls. He could erase them from the face of the earth, and laugh off any power short of that of Aeoris himself that tried to stop him. And that would only be the beginning The fire faded from his look, and she let out her breath with a sharp exhalation. ‘If the stone was in my possession,’ Tarod said gently, ‘Cyllan and I would leave the Star Peninsula, and neither you nor anyone else here would ever hear of us again.
‘And what would you leave behind you?
‘The Castle. The Circle. As they are, with not a soul harmed by my hand.
Aware that she was at a crossroads, with no retreat offered to her, Erminet said, ‘Do I have your word on that, as an Adept?
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘I’m no longer an Adept, Erminet.
But you have my word.
She twisted her hands together, licked her lips and wished that her throat wasn’t so dry. That’s good enough for me.
‘Then -
Erminet didn’t let him say what he’d been about to.
‘I’ll tell her where the gem is kept,’ she said, so quietly that Tarod could barely hear her. ‘And if I should forget to lock the door of her room behind me, when the good people of the Castle are sound asleep in their beds…
He smiled. ‘No one will ever know the truth.
I hope not, Erminet thought, and nodded. ‘There’s a banquet in two nights’ time; it’s probably the only safe chance there’ll be. She’ll come to you then.
He rose, but didn’t approach her. ‘I don’t know what to say to you. Thanks are so inadequate …
‘I want none. I’ve enough of a burden to carry without your gratitude to add to it!’ Erminet was near to tears without knowing why, and to counteract the emotion she raked him with a contemptuous glare. ‘In the meantime, I’ll bring you water to wash with, and a blade to shave yourself. If you confront the girl looking as you do now, she’ll change her mind and I’ll have risked myself for nothing!
It was the first time she had heard Tarod laugh unreservedly and wholeheartedly. When at last it subsided, he said solemnly, ‘I wouldn’t have that, Sister. Not for the world.
Her cheeks reddened. ‘So be it, then.’ She glanced down at her bag. ‘I’ve prepared a further dose of the drug that’s supposed to keep you quiescent. I’ll leave it here but I don’t want to know whether you take it or not.
‘If anyone chooses to visit me, they’ll find me as stupefied as ever.’ Tarod smiled. ‘You’ll be seen to have done your duty.
Erminet nodded quickly. She poured the prepared concoction, pressed the cup into his hands and made to leave. At the door she paused. ‘Ah … I all but forgot.
She said to tell you that the wound was quickly healed.
‘Yes. I thought she might say that … bless you, Sister Erminet. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.
She returned the look almost sadly, he thought.
‘Good fortune go with you, Tarod.
He listened to the heavy key turning stiffly in the lock, and to the sound of Erminet’s footsteps diminishing along the passage. When all was silent again he let out a pent-up breath, and felt a new strength flowing through him. He had hope where there had been nothing - hope of life, hope of a future. He could hardly yet believe it Sinking down on to the heaped rugs again, Tarod closed his green eyes and forced his muscles to relax, to ward off the excitement that threatened to overtake him. He must stay calm, expect nothing … the path from this moment to freedom was still a long and hazardous one, and rather than allow himself to indulge in speculation, he’d be better advised to conserve his energy lest some unforeseen trouble might occur. Even without the Chaos stone he had power, and the Circle’s attempts to weaken him had had less effect than Keridil hoped - but he was by no means invincible. He must make contingency plans … and make them quickly.
Turning his head and opening his eyes again, he reached for the cup which Sister Erminet had left. For a moment he weighed it in his hand; then with slow deliberation he poured its contents on the floor. The liquid mingled with the detritus on the flagstones, forming a dark pool which gradually spread and faded as it soaked into the porous stone. If need be, he could put on a good enough show of stupefaction for the Circle … and he needed all his senses intact now.
Settling himself as comfortably as he could, and aware of the rapidity of his pulse which no amount of will could control, Tarod closed his eyes once more as his mind began to reach out tentatively towards the future.
Cyllan knew that some untoward event was taking place in the Castle. Watching from her window - there was little else to occupy her during the daylight hours - she had seen the bustle of activity increasing since early morning, and her first horrified thought had been to link it with the High Initiate’s plans for Tarod’s execution.
But as the Spring day declined into a pleasant if chilly Sunset, it became obvious that this was a celebratory rather than a solemn occasion. People in their finest clothes converged on the main doors from all parts of the Castle, the tall windows of the main hall blazed with light, and as darkness fell she heard faint strains of music in the distance.
As the courtyard emptied, Cyllan left the window and sat on her bed, relieved from her immediate fear yet still fretting with impatience. It was three days since Sister Erminet had made her promise; three days during which the old woman had not been to visit h
er, and Cyllan’s initial hope was fast turning to despair and anger.
Surely, unless she was the victim of some complex scheme or joke, there should have been word by now?
Several times during the agonising wait she had been tempted to try calling on Yandros a second time, but memory of his warning had stopped her. He had said he couldn’t come to her again … she had no choice but to be patient. And to look to Aeoris for an answer to her prayers was hardly appropriate …
The music was louder now, and it irritated her; in her present predicament it seemed an intrusion and an insult. The Castle revelled while she waited, fear and uncertainty gnawing like rats at her stomach … it fuelled the anger that was growing inside her, made her want to strike out, yet gave her nothing to strike against.
The tension she felt was almost unbearable - and when a key turned unexpectedly in the lock of her door, she jumped as though under the onslaught of a physical blow.
Sister Erminet came in. Her face was pale and taut, but she managed a quick, wry smile as she closed the door quietly at her back.
Cyllan sprang up from the bed. ‘Sister -
Erminet put a finger to her lips. ‘Quiet, child. There’s no one about, but no point in tempting the fates.
Lowering her voice, Cyllan asked, ‘What news do you have of Tarod?
‘He’s well enough, if not exactly prospering.’ Erminet paused, studying the girl’s face. ‘I gave him your reply to his message, and asked for his word on the safety of this Castle, as I said.
‘And … ?
‘He gave it.’ Quickly, as though afraid of changing her mind, Erminet unlooped one of the keys that hung from her belt and held it out. ‘This will unlock his door. I can’t take the risk of releasing him myself. And you’ll find the jewel in the High Initiate’s study, locked away in a box he keeps in his cupboard.’ Her gaze wavered. There’s a banquet about to begin, to celebrate Keridil’s betrothal to Sashka Veyyil. I doubt if you’ll ever have a better opportunity to find the Castle deserted.
Very slowly Cyllan reached out and took the key.
Then, catching Erminet completely by surprise, she suddenly and impulsively flung her arms round the old woman’s neck, hugging her tightly. She couldn’t express what she felt, but the mute gesture was far more eloquent than any words. Flustered, Erminet extricated herself.
‘Now, don’t be so foolish!’ she scolded, trying to cover the fact that she was touched. ‘You’ve a long way to go yet, and this is no time to indulge in emotion.’ She stood back to study Cyllan critically. ‘That gown, for example.
The colour’s dangerously distinctive, and with your hair it makes you too recognisable.
Cyllan frowned down at herself. The dress was the one that Tarod had given to her, and she didn’t want to relinquish it. ‘They brought me fresh clothes,’ she said.
‘But I don’t want them.
Erminet, however, was adamant. ‘Want or no, you’ll change your attire now, or look forward to being recaptured! Here.’ She examined the garments which had been left for Cyllan on Keridil’s orders. ‘This will do - it’s neutral enough.’ She held up a dove-grey woollen skirt with a darker long-sleeved top. For a moment Cyllan seemed about to protest, then she shrugged her thin shoulders and reluctantly slipped off the red gown.
While she changed, Erminet instructed her as to Tarod’s whereabouts and made her recite the directions twice over to ensure she had memorised them, then finally handed her a short black cloak with a hood.
‘This will hide your hair well enough. Keep to the shadows, and if anyone approaches you, walk the other way as quickly as you can without drawing attention.
Are you ready?
Cyllan nodded.
‘Very well. I will leave first - I’m expected at the banquet, and there might be comment if I’m late. When all’s quiet, make your way across the courtyard. It’s unlit now; safer than the corridors.’ She gave her charge one last look, then nodded. ‘I wish you luck, child - even more for my sake than for yours. Aeoris help us all if you fail.
Cyllan remembered her encounter with Yandros, and smiled. ‘I won’t fail, Sister Erminet.
She stood back, watching as the old woman opened the door and peered out into the corridor. They exchanged a last glance, Erminet smiled conspiratorially, then she was gone. Cyllan waited, counting every painful heartbeat and hardly able to believe that what had happened wasn’t a dream from which she would wake at any moment. Then, when she could hear no sound beyond the door, she crossed the room and slipped out into the passage. Erminet had disappeared towards the main stairs; Cyllan paused to pull the cloak’s hood over her hair, then turned in the opposite direction towards a secondary flight which would, she had been told, lead her by a circuitous route to a side door of the courtyard.
And as Cyllan hastened away, the light of one of the wall-torches illuminated the rich velvet clothes and brilliant jewels of someone who stepped out of a side passage …
Sashka had been taking her time, despite her mother’s pleas, in preparing for what was to be her triumphant night. She had changed her mind and her gown three times before finally deciding what to wear, then had spent an hour under the careful hands of a trusted servant while her hair was coiled and dressed. At last her parents had been forced to leave without her, and she had spent a few private and pleasant minutes luxuriating in anticipation of the evening. She would be the focus of all attention, elevated in a single night to a status that every eligible woman in every province would envy, and Sashka was determined to make the most of it. Let the guests await her arrival - she’d make that much more of an impression when she finally did grace them with her presence.
At last, judging the moment to be right, she rose and made to leave, scorning the proffered arm of her father’s steward and telling him curtly to stay behind and mind his place. There would be a guard of honour waiting to escort her to the main hall; she needed no one else.
And so she had left her suite of rooms and walked at leisure towards the stairs. And, as she was about to emerge into the main corridor, Sister Erminet had walked briskly across her path.
Sashka instinctively drew back, irritated. She despised Sister Erminet, and the thought of having to walk with her and make at least an attempt to be civil soured her mood. Fortunately, however, the old woman hadn’t seen her … so she waited until the quick footsteps had diminished before emerging into the corridor.
It was sheer chance which made her pause as she started towards the stairs, and look back over her shoulder. And she was just in time to see a small, cloaked and hooded figure turning out of one of the rooms at the far end and hurrying away.
Sashka frowned. Something about the figure struck a chord in her memory, but she couldn’t place it. Yet…
wasn’t that the room where the Eastern girl, Tarod’s little drover slut, was kept? Sashka’s instinct for trouble assailed her, and she licked her lips speculatively. It was a ridiculous idea … but it would take only a moment to be sure.
Glancing about to make sure she was unobserved, she picked up her skirts and ran along the corridor.
The door from which both Sister Erminet and the mysterious figure must have emerged stood alone, and it was closed. Sashka grasped the latch-ring, turned it, pushed - and the door swung open.
The room was lit, but empty. Sashka’s gaze took in an unmade bed, a plate of food, half eaten - and a red silk gown discarded over a chair. Remembering the one time she had seen Cyllan, when Keridil had tried and failed to talk some sense into her head, Sashka recognised the dress immediately, and her heart began to pound suffocatingly. The slut had escaped - and Sister Erminet was implicated!
A peculiar sense of elation filled Sashka. She could raise the alarm now, and within minutes Cyllan would be apprehended - but there might be more to gain by waiting a while. She felt certain that Cyllan’s disappearance wasn’t the result of a simple mistake on Erminet’s part; the old woman was involved somehow in a deliberat
e plot, and Sashka felt certain that it might spring from a desire to spite her personally. Yet without direct evidence, she could prove nothing. Better, then, if she bided her time for just a little while, until she could trick Erminet into saying something that would damn her when she was confronted with the truth. The banquet would provide the perfect opportunity - it would also provide as many witnesses as anyone could desire - and she herself could secure the double triumph of ensuring Cyllan’s apprehension, and exposing a traitor in their midst.
To aid and abet a minion of Chaos was a serious matter … Keridil could surely no longer argue in favour of clemency for the drover-girl, and the thought that Sister Erminet might well suffer alongside Cyllan gave Sashka a good deal of satisfaction. As for Tarod … his hopes of escape would be thwarted, and he’d die as Keridil intended. All in all, Sashka thought, a more than satisfactory solution …
She turned quickly out of the empty room, closing the door behind her, and made her way with unhurried grace towards the main stairs.
Gyneth Linto, Keridil’s steward, leaned to pour wine into the two heavily ornamented silver cups that stood together at the high table. It was more than thirty years since these ancient chalices had been used to toast the betrothal or marriage of a High Initiate of the Circle, and Gyneth had insisted on taking personal charge of this duty, despite the fact that some might think it menial. A silence fell on the assembly as he completed his task with a flourish and stepped back. Keridil met Sashka’s eyes and as one they raised the cups, touching the rims together as the entire gathering rose. Every gaze in the hall was upon them, and Sashka felt a thrill of excitement course through her as, slowly and clearly, Keridil spoke the formal words of the betrothal pledge.
‘I call on Aeoris to witness this day that I, Keridil Toln, High Initiate of the Circle at the Star Peninsula, do pledge and bind to you, Sashka Veyyil of Han Province, to be protector and provider to you from the day of our marriage until my life’s end.
Sashka cast her eyes down, and her measured contralto carried through the hall. ‘And that I, Sashka Veyyil, do pledge and bind to you, Keridil Toln, to be helpmeet and comforter to you, from the day of our marriage until my life’s end.
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