The Raven Coven

by Emma Miles

  ‘I’m surprised they don’t go to Chem, surely it’s much nearer?’ Ayline frowned.

  ‘For women, Chem means enslavement. Most will risk the sea, the Fulmers, or even the stain of the blood magic on the Borrows, rather than that.’

  Ayline visibly shivered.

  ‘Right, shall we get you all settled in, then?’ Bractius adeptly changed the subject.

  Dia gave a slight bow. ‘Thank you. If you could spare me a moment there is a matter I would like to discuss with you.’

  ‘I thought there might be.’ Bractius raised an eyebrow. ‘Let me walk you to your room myself.’

  Ayline stared at them both. Dia’s instinct was to soothe the Queen, but she was itching to know news of her daughter. ‘Thank you, I would appreciate it.’

  Bractius beckoned over his stewards and they hurried forward to guide Worvig and Larissa. The king offered his arm and Dia took it, feeling a little uncomfortable. Instead of taking Dia up to the guest room in which she’d stayed previously, he took her to his private study. Maps adorned the walls as well as portraits of those Dia assumed to be previous kings. Bractius spoke the instant he closed the door behind them.

  ‘Before you react, bear in mind this was Jorrun and Kesta’s plan, they came here to convince me of it!’

  ‘Convince you of what?’ Dia’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Only they and myself know of this, no one else. They have gone to Chem.’

  The words kicked hard at Dia’s heart, she closed her eyes. ‘I feared as much. Go on.’

  ‘They have an ambitious plan to get rid of the last of the necromancers and set Jorrun’s brother, Osun, up on the throne of the Overlord. I think they want to form some kind of democracy.’ The King’s lip curled in distaste. ‘Still, if it works, they will turn Chem into an ally and trade partner and eliminate their threat forever.’

  To Dia, a democracy in Chem seemed like an excellent, if impossible concept. She could understand why a king might find the idea so concerning though. On the Fulmers the next Icante was always chosen from among the Walkers by the ruling Icante. Chieftains were elected by each Hold, but the Icante got to choose her own Silenes.

  She drew in air and considered her reply. ‘I’m not sure how to feel about that. Scared for my daughter, more than anything.’

  ‘Of course.’ Bractius patted at her arm, his gaze somewhere across the room. ‘I was reluctant to let Jorrun go, but it made sense. Apparently, there is another Dunham, Feren I think he said, in line to step in as Overlord. If nothing is done, we are hardly better off than before.’

  ‘Yes, we certainly don’t want to allow another necromancer to take charge. Have you heard anything?’

  Bractius pulled at his beard and turned to look at her. ‘Nothing yet, but they would have only been in Chem maybe four or five days. It would be difficult for them to send word.’

  ‘Doesn’t Jorrun do some kind of long-distance scrying?’

  Bractius stood up straighter and lowered his voice. ‘That’s Chem magic and involves blood. Jorrun refused to take any of my blood with him in case it falls into the wrong hands.’

  Dia’s intestines grew cold. Jorrun used blood magic? Kesta had never told her that. Did she know?

  ‘All we can do is wait and trust them.’ Bractius folded his arms across his chest and regarded her.

  Dia nodded, forcing herself to breathe more slowly. ‘I appreciate you telling me. Would you like Larissa to know so you have someone to confide in? I realise the more people who know a secret, the more at risk it becomes.’

  ‘I’m grateful for the sentiment of the offer.’ He looked across the room, his eyes meeting those of a portrait. His father? Dia wondered. ‘For the moment I’d prefer to leave it as the four of us. I must admit it’s a relief to speak to you of it.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me. Despite everything … I’m glad we started talking with Elden.’

  Bractius nodded. ‘We would be in a different world now if we hadn’t. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.’

  Chapter Nine

  Osun; Covenet of Chem

  ‘Trouble!’ he called out, reining in his horse.

  Cassien pulled his own mount up sharply and jumped down to draw his sword. Jagna was slower to react and turned his horse around further up the road. Osun cursed, they were almost within sight of Navere.

  The six men pursuing them slowed to a walk. From their leather armour and lack of any identifying marks Osun guessed they were ex-guardsmen, probably from a Dunham Coven. The way their apparent leader stared at him and halted his horse confirmed it.

  ‘Who are you?’ The man demanded, leaning forward over his horse’s neck with his reins held in one hand.

  Osun sat up straighter. ‘You know who I am.’

  The man narrowed his eyes, Cassien pushed his horse away from him to give himself more room. The man spat and Osun sighed. Why did so many men feel the need to do that?

  ‘I know what you are.’ The man looked at him unblinkingly. ‘I want to know who.’

  The ex-guardsmen all looked up as Jagna called flame to his fingers. ‘Answer enough for you?’ The young sorcerer called out.

  The man sat back in his saddle, his horse moving uneasily beneath him. He regarded Jagna and then turned back to Osun. ‘Very well, “master”, we’ll be on our way.’

  He gestured at his men and turned his horse around, heading off the path before breaking into a gallop.

  Jagna let his flames die away.

  Osun nodded at the young sorcerer. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I could have taken them, master,’ Cassien grumbled. He retrieved his horse, their supply horse still tied to its saddle.

  ‘Bandits?’ Jagna asked as Osun caught up to him. He looked shaken.

  Osun nodded. ‘Undoubtably.’ He had to stop himself glancing at his belt. He carried a fortune there not in gold, but in diamonds, everything he had to buy women with blood for his coven. ‘Let’s get on.’

  It wasn’t the first time they’d met trouble on their way back from Margith. They’d been attacked one night while camping by a river some three miles from the road. Cassien had proved his worth by dispatching the thieves before Jagna had even struggled out of his blanket. The sooner the Seats were settled the better it would be for the whole country.

  ‘We should get off the road,’ Jagna suggested.

  The young man had spent so much of his life hiding and trying to go unnoticed that travelling on the open roads with Osun had made him a nervous wreck. Osun supposed he couldn’t blame him, after all, Jagna didn’t know him, didn’t know Osun could hide himself in plain sight by playing whatever part was required.

  Cassien, on the other hand, seemed to have chosen to trust him completely. Perhaps it was just the nature of being a slave. It made Osun feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Osun?’ Jagna frowned, glancing around. His horse snorted and tossed its head.

  ‘The road is safer,’ Osun replied. ‘We’ll attract more attention if we try to sneak into Navere.’

  Jagna slumped a little in his saddle, but he turned his horse to fall in beside Osun.

  ***

  As always, the gates to the harbour city were open wide, the guards going about their business despite the chaos in the ruling Seats. Seabirds called sharply, large numbers of them perched on the granite walls, many more following the boats out on the sea. The guards paid Osun more attention than they did when he’d come through with his wagon as a merchant, but didn’t stop him. Osun felt a surprising amount of sympathy for them, at times like these it was probably best to keep out of any potential trouble and just wait to see who came out on top. With any luck it would soon be him.

  They stopped outside the Narwhale Inn, Gulden coming out himself to greet them and order about his slaves and servants.

  ‘Osun! Good to see you again so soon.’ Gulden took the reins of Osun’s horse as he dismounted. ‘I have three letters here for you.’

  ‘Thank you for keeping them for me,’ Osun rep
lied. ‘I’ll need a room for my friend here and somewhere for my servant.’

  ‘Of course.’ Gulden frowned a little at Osun’s formal manner. ‘I’ll fetch your letters.’

  ‘This is a bad place,’ Jagna muttered. ‘I can feel blood magic.’

  Osun waved a hand at him and scowled. ‘Adelphy kept his undead here, they’re long gone.’

  He followed Gulden inside the inn, it was busier than usual and Osun felt a moment of annoyance. Despite the crowded dining room, Gulden made Osun his priority and going to a strongbox took out the three letters.

  ‘Your usual room is taken, master Osun, but I can try to move the occupan—’

  ‘No need.’ Osun made a slashing gesture with his hand. ‘We’ll probably only be here a few nights this time and I know all of your rooms are comfortable and clean.’

  Gulden’s chest swelled a little, and he straightened his back. ‘Well now, master Osun, that’s good of you to say.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put a friend in a bad position for no good reason.’ Osun glanced about the room, noting those that were there to see if there might be any potential trouble. Jagna was shifting his feet, his back to the wall, hands twitching. Osun’s jaw tightened and he sighed. ‘Where’s that room, Gulden?’

  ‘Oh, this way!’ Gulden gestured at a slave and handed her two keys. He almost snarled at her. ‘Quickly!’

  The woman bowed and made her way to the stairs without making eye contact with anyone. She wore a thick, black veil and her long brown hair was tied back in a neat plait. She stopped at one door and unlocked it, going inside and stooping in a low bow with the key held out on her palm. Osun took it and, after a quick look around, handed the key to Jagna.

  ‘And my room?’ he demanded.

  The slave straightened up and led him along the corridor to open another door. Osun snatched the key from her at once. ‘This will do. Cassien, find out where your room is and then come back at once. I have work for you.’

  ‘Yes, master.’ Cassien raised his eyebrows in a way that would have gotten him a knock about the head from most masters, but he bowed and Osun chose to ignore it. The slave beckoned at Cassien for him to follow her and closed the door.

  Osun breathed out, his muscles relaxing. He went over to the window and looked down at the marketplace. Cattle stood miserably in pens and various goods sprawled beneath brightly coloured awnings. The slave pens were across the other side of the market and barely visible. He straightened up and turned away, his fingers curling up into fists and his eyebrows drawing in across his nose. Empathy could get him killed.

  He looked down at the letters crumpled in his hand and walked slowly over to the bed to sit down. He’d barely had time to read them all when someone knocked at the door.

  ‘Come!’

  The door opened and Cassien stepped in, closing it again behind him. Osun turned back to his letters.

  ‘Why do you do that?’ Cassien asked.

  Osun span about and put the letters down as hard as it was possible to do so on a soft bed.

  ‘Master.’ The young man added, although he gave a shake of his head.

  ‘Do you want me to beat you to death?’ Osun demanded angrily.

  Cassien’s eyes widened.

  ‘I might not be cruel, but that doesn’t mean I’m soft!’ Osun stood up and approached the window, his hands behind his back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Cassien stuttered. He actually sounded as though he meant it.

  Osun turned to him. ‘It isn’t just me you have to think of! Your impertinence reflects badly on me and could cause me trouble also. Don’t make me regret helping you.’

  Cassien swallowed, his grey eyes going to the floor. ‘I’m sorry, master.’

  Osun took in a deep breath and sighed it out loudly. ‘Now, what was your impertinent question?’

  Cassien shuffled his feet and didn’t look up. ‘You are hard to understand, master. It’s like you are … thirty different people. How you are with me, how you are with Jagna and that innkeeper, all different. And when you scry in the bowl, you are different again.’

  Osun regarded the young man, barely more than a boy although he had a man’s build. ‘I won’t chastise you for being observant, in fact I’d encourage it, but watch your tongue and your attitude. If you want to stay alive and have a chance to be a part of something that will change the future of Chem, then stay quiet, behave as you should, and do as you’re told. If you want to end up dead in the bottom of a fighter’s pit, then carry on the way you are! I’d be happy to get some of my gold back.’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Yes to what?’ Osun threw his arms up.

  ‘Yes, I’ll behave!’ Cassien raised his voice a little to say through gritted teeth. ‘Master.’

  Osun shook his head. ‘How are you even alive still?’

  They both jumped when there was another knock at the door. Osun glared at Cassien until the boy realised what he was supposed to be doing and went to open the door. Jagna pushed his way in, glancing around the room and going straight to the window to look down at the street.

  ‘So, what’s our next move?’ Jagna asked, scratching at his chin where his stubble had grown almost as long as his severely cut hair.

  Osun narrowed his eyes and regarded the young sorcerer. ‘My brother is close and should join us tomorrow night. Balten has arranged for one of his order to be on the docks and sign Jorrun’s ship in, no questions asked. He has also given me the address of a house near the harbour, presumably a safe house we can stay in. I’ll check it out tonight.’

  ‘I should come too, master,’ Cassien said.

  Osun nodded.

  ‘When do we take Navere from Cepack?’ Jagna asked.

  ‘That will be up to my brother. I’ll check out the palace and temple tomorrow, get an idea of what we’re up against.’ Osun hesitated, studying Jagna’s face and green eyes. ‘Be careful when you meet my brother’s wife. She’s from the Fulmers and you might find her … startling.’

  ‘I can deal with a woman.’ Jagna scowled.

  A laugh escaped from Osun, he couldn’t help it. He’d been shocked when he’d first met Kesta, then utterly transfixed by her openness and her fighter’s grace. Then jealousy had come creeping into his heart when he saw the relationship she had with his brother, despite their denial of it, a longing had overwhelmed him for something he hadn’t even realised was missing from his life. He could certainly understand Balten and his friends. Kesta’s opinion of him had crushed him and brought a flood of emotions he barely recognised, emotions he didn’t want to feel. Guilt. Remorse. Admiration had turned almost to hatred that long, quiet talks with Jorrun on their way back to Elden had calmed. He was nervous of seeing Kesta again. He doubted she’d forgiven him or ever would. He told himself her opinion didn’t matter. But it did. He’d considered what his mother would have thought of his behaviour towards Milaiya and his previous slave; what Jorrun’s mother, Naderra would have thought. No matter how many times he’d told himself he was a Chemman, that it was the way things were and he’d done nothing wrong, shame still burned him and he felt sick with it. Admitting it to Jorrun had eased it a little, but the ghost of it still clung to him.

  He glanced at the door, the walls of the room seeming suddenly too close.

  ‘Just be warned,’ he told Jagna. ‘You’ve never met anything so fierce.’

  He burned the letters in the fireplace and then left Jagna in his room. Cassien followed him out of the inn and into the marketplace.

  ‘I like the sound of your brother’s wife, master,’ Cassien said behind him.

  Osun snorted. ‘Yes, you would.’

  The address Osun had been given didn’t take him to the harbour but to a cobbler’s shop on the edge of the poorer part of the city. A few boots hung from long nails beside the small, grimy window.

  Osun hesitated to take hold of the rusty door handle.

  ‘Allow me, master.’ Cassien stepped forward and pushed the door open, causing a
small bell to give a dull, unmelodious thud. Osun waited as Cassien looked around, the young boy nodded and he followed him inside.

  The shop was dark and cluttered with tools and materials. One wall was filled with shelves from floor to ceiling that housed wooden lasts. A man stopped his work to look at them, his hammer still clenched in his hand. He looked to be in his forties and was as scruffy as his shop.

  ‘Help you?’ he muttered, looking from Osun to Cassien.

  ‘I need two left shoes,’ Osun said.

  Cassien looked at him as though he’d gone crazy.

  The cobbler looked him up and down. ‘I think I have your order, what was the name?’

  ‘Osun.’

  The cobbler put down his hammer and disappeared into a back room. Cassien swayed from one foot to the other, his hand near his sword.

  Osun frowned at Cassien and the boy stopped fidgeting.

  The cobbler returned and held out a key to Osun. ‘House with the black door on Net Lane. Someone will deliver your shoes there in a couple of days.’

  Osun took the key and nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  As curious as he was, Osun chose not to hang about. He headed straight for the docks and the narrow lane that ran alongside where the fishermen gutted their catch. Cassien wrinkled his face in disgust at the stench and swore when he slipped on some fish guts. There were still some women working alongside their masters despite the fading light. Osun watched one of them deftly using a sharp knife and shuddered, his hand moving to where a scar marked his chest.

  They found a black door, but Osun checked the whole lane to be sure there were no others. It also gave him the opportunity to check who was about. As he put the key in the lock, one of the female slaves looked up at him for two heartbeats.

  Interesting.

  It was dark inside, only a tiny shaft of light leaking in through the closed shutters. They stepped in and let the door bang shut behind them. Osun waited, letting his eyes adjust and straining his ears for any sound. Cassien was eerily silent beside him. When he was confident no one else was around, Osun opened the shutters.