Stormwarden

by Janny Wurts

  Without taking time to speak to the boy, the sorcerer stepped out into the night, letting a gust of rain across the threshold. Within the hour he had calmed the storm enough to send a boat to the mainland for a healer. But Emien had never forgotten the fact that his presence had been ignored.

  Taen's convalescence progressed slowly. The Sathid learned patience and endurance through the days she lay abed suffering the pain of her healing leg. The Stormwarden spent hours visiting her and his walks into the hills with Emien were curtailed. At first the boy moped sullenly in the kitchen until his mother scolded him for idleness. Deprived at one stroke of the sister and the sorcerer who were his only friends, he spent his afternoons alone in the meadows and refused to seek other companions. Aware of his resentment but unable to console him, Taen bore her own misery in silence; as a cripple, she could never fully earn her keep in the hard life of Imrill Kand. The fleet would forever sail without her.

  While she dreamed through the weary months of recovery, the Sathid deepened its grip on her mind. Slowly, experimentally, it sorted what it had learned and in the first poisoned seed of conflict sown between Taen and her brother, it found the weakness it sought in her character. The girl perceived Emien's shortcomings well enough, but cursed by the clarity of her gift she also understood him. Bereft of the security of her father's love, she would forgive the boy, though his flawed personality caused her pain and destroyed her emotional equilibrium. There the Sathid read potential for conquest.

  The matrix probed for more detail. With utmost delicacy it examined every aspect of Taen's relationship with her brother and through that discovered the estrangement created by her loyalty to Anskiere. The Sathid weighed alternatives. While Taen relived the anguish brought on by her brother's rejection of Imrill Kand, it gained maturity. Soon the matrix and the girl's mind became inseparably interlinked. The Sathid's psychic strength combined with Taen's gift of empathy and expanded her abilities to paranormal proportions.

  A day came when the Sathid launched the girl's awareness beyond the bounds of her own subconscious. Above the capsule which encased her body, a needle quivered in a meter embedded in the control console set to monitor her life functions. The Vaere noted the deflection and began actively to monitor. The Sathid sought a deeper hold to secure its bid for power. Taen would face her brother in Kisburn's court again; but with the Sathid's psychic strength now linked through her gift, she would learn more of his character than she ever wished to know....

  * * *

  Emien ran full tilt down the corridor leading from the King's apartments, unaware his movements were observed by his sister and an alien matrix. "Wait!" he called after the small blond footpage who raced ahead of him. "You promised."

  But the child, who was barely twelve and a recent addition to Kisburn's household, hesitated only an instant, then ducked through the portal which led to the King's private orchard.

  Emien swore in exasperation. Though exertion went poorly with his best velvet tunic and fine silk shirt, he put on speed and hurried after. He caught the heavy door panel before it swung closed and sprinted down the steps. Cold struck through his thin sleeves. Dead grass crackled under his boots, stiff with winter frost, as he dodged between the statuary of an ornamental fountain; the basin stood clogged with ice and dead leaves. Emien cursed again, annoyed by the fact he had left his cloak behind. But the boy he chased must be equally chilled, clad as he was in the royal livery.

  "Stop!" Emien called. "Do you always keep your word this loosely?"

  But the page never slackened pace. Emien caught a glimpse of maroon brocade through the bare boughs of the fruit orchard, and with a scowl of black anger he leaped the stone wall and pursued. Twigs scraped his face as he fended the branches away from his clothes and his breath clouded on the frigid air, but gradually he closed with the child, who ducked like a frightened rabbit into the densest part of the orchard. A scant step behind, Emien reached out and closed his fist in light blond hair.

  The page yowled and tripped over a root. Yanked off balance, Emien missed stride. Both boys rammed into the unforgiving trunk of a pear tree.

  Scuffed by bark and the sharp ends of numerous twigs, Emien scowled down at the footpage who had nearly caused him to tear his best shirt. "You're a nuisance," he said sharply.

  The page lifted his chin, frightened of the older boy but determined not to cower. He leaned against the tree, panting heavily from his run, and refused to answer.

  "When does Tathagres go for audience with the King?" demanded Emien. "The lists were written this morning. Surely you've seen them by now. Did you think I gave you that silver for amusement alone?" He caught the page's collar and twisted the cloth cruelly around the child's throat. "We had an agreement. Dare you break it?"

  White-faced, the page shook his head.

  Emien released his hold, dusted his hands on his tunic. "I thought not." His tone turned peevish. "Fires! It's not as though you were giving away state secrets, or anything. Now give. When does Tathagres have audience?"

  The smaller boy swallowed and wiped his nose. "Tomorrow," he said miserably. "Did you have to mess up my tabard?"

  "Did you have to run me around the King's gardens?" Emien mimicked. He rummaged in his pocket and tossed a double copper to the ground by the child's feet. "Give this to the maid. If she complains, tell her you were lucky to get off so lightly."

  The page regarded the coin with visible reluctance. Although his skin was blue with chill, he waited, shivering under the trees, until Emien had gone. Then in a fit of helpless rage he stamped the coin again and again into the weeds before he returned to the palace.

  In her capsule beneath the ground on the Isle of the Vaere, Taen experienced the footpage's humiliation as though it were her own. For the first time since her dream began, she recognized the increase in her ability as a dream-reader. As yet oblivious to her peril, she tested her new powers and found she could skip from Emien's consciousness into the minds of others in his presence. The experience excited her, went to her head like wine. And like the nestling discovering the first use of its wings, she decided to accompany her brother when he went to spy on the audience between King Kisburn and the witch Tathagres. The Sathid did not object. Her response to Emien's cruelty precisely followed the pattern it sought to establish.

  * * *

  The Sathid and Taen waited with Emien as he crouched in the dusty darkness of the hidden passage behind the audience chamber. Exhilarated by his own daring, he pressed his eye to the small spy-hole concealed by the room's ornate decor. On a bet, he had bested the chamber guard three times with practice foils, with access to the passage his claimed forfeit. The guard was an unimaginative fellow; linked with the Sathid's powers, Taen picked up the man's feelings without effort.

  Though relieved not to be losing his beer money, the guard had agreed reluctantly to Emien's plan. He could be tried for treason if the boy were discovered. But gambling of any sort was forbidden to the guard, and the boy could cost him a month's docked pay if the captain was informed of their wager. Like many another in Kisburn's court, the guard placed little trust in Emien's scruples; Tathagres' young squire had a look of dangerous ambition about him, and his dicey temper was certainly no secret. He was fast becoming the sort of person nobody wanted to cross.

  While the guard sweated at his post, Emien studied the officials present in the council chamber. Only three of the King's advisors were present. As usual, Lord Sholl sat to the right of the throne, bald head tilted behind his hand while he whispered in the royal ear. To the left of the arras stood the court's grand Conjurer, a position held by any of three sorcerers who currently held the King's favor. Tathagres had not yet arrived. As a boy raised to a fisherman's poverty, Emien stared, still enthralled by the presence of the King.

  His Grace of Kisburn was slender, stooped, and barely thirty-three. He had a face like a mouse, quick, shifty eyes which missed very little, and a mind whetted to a fine nervous edge. His aspirations knew no boun
ds. Though he looked like a sickly scholar, engulfed in his heavy robes of state, the idea of conquest obsessed him. He ruled with a quick sharp hand, and if dissidents at court claimed he listened a bit too readily to Lord Sholl, his Grace the Ninth Sovereign of Kisburn never made foolish decisions. Emien watched with envious fascination as the King shook his head in denial. Lord Sholl straightened in his chair, lips puckered with displeasure. For a moment he looked as if he might speak again. But the King waved his hand impatiently, dismissing the issue, and that moment the doors opened to admit Tathagres. The King glanced up expectantly.

  Emien leaned closer to the spy-hole, rapt with anticipation. Today his mistress intended to end the long months of waiting. If the King approved her proposal, they would return to assault Cliffhaven with an army, and at long last Anskiere would fall. Taen, as observer, suppressed her dismay. Unless she remained passive, her brother would discover her presence and raise defenses against her.

  Tathagres strode boldly into the audience chamber, unencumbered by her usual court finery. Emien was startled to find her clad in a man's heavy riding leathers, boots, tunic and breeches impeccably brushed and a cloak of dyed wool falling in luxurious scarlet folds from her shoulders. Except for Lord Sholl, the advisors regarded her with stiff disapproval as she bowed neatly before the royal dais.

  Tathagres unpinned the brooch at her throat and flicked her cloak over her arm with an air of confidence difficult to disregard. Emien was forced to admire her tactics. In a court entangled with corruption and intrigue, Tathagres abandoned any feminine wiles; with an air of uncompromising directness, she brought nothing to the audience chamber but the sure recognition of her own power. And though custom demanded that the King speak first, her stance gave the impression that she waited for him to petition her for information.

  The King leaned eagerly forward, wiry fingers laced together in his lap. "Have you come to tell me your plan concerning Cliffhaven? If not, be brief. My patience is growing short where you are concerned."

  Behind the King's shoulder, two of the advisors exchanged surreptitious whispers. With the major war fleet lately smashed to splinters by Anskiere's storm, most of the court opposed further dealings with Tathagres; shipwrights labored day and night to replace the broken ships, but at least a year had been lost to damages. Only Lord Sholl supported Tathagres, and to the annoyance of many he still held the King's favor.

  The witch behaved as if the setback never occurred. "If I bring about the defeat of Cliffhaven, our bargain still stands. With the Kielmark fallen, your passage through Mainstrait would stand unopposed and the Free Isles would lie open for invasion. You will deliver me Keys to Elrinfaer tower then, is that understood?"

  One of the advisors stiffened at her affront. "With permission, your Grace." The King nodded irritably, granting him leave to speak. "Lady, may I point out that the loss of the war fleet seriously hampers any invasion campaign at this time?"

  Tathagres smiled, her fingers still on the folds of her cloak. "When Cliffhaven falls you may replace your ships." She dismissed the advisor with a slight toss of her head, and addressed her next line to the King. "Why not invade the Free Isles with the Kielmark's fleet? His ships are known to be the finest vessels on Keithland. After his defeat, they will be yours to command as spoils."

  The King settled back. Jewels flashed on his doublet as he drew a fast breath. But he tempered his impatience before he spoke. "Defeat Cliffhaven? You jest. Without an inside accomplice, it cannot be achieved."

  "It can, your Grace. If you give me leave, I can deliver the fortress intact."

  "How?" the King demanded, at last unable to restrain his eagerness. To his left the advisors shifted apprehensively in their chairs. Lord Sholl's expression remained impassive, but he toyed with his rings, his hands betraying his anticipation. To Emien, watching, it seemed as if the first advisor to the King held a stake in Tathagres' plan. But Taen, through the expanded resources of the Sathid matrix, caught the peripheral discomfort of the man's two colleagues; they were very much aware Lord Sholl was party to the witch's schemes, and the idea displeased them hugely.

  Having won the edge in her exchange with the King, Tathagres lifted her cloak from her arm and draped it carelessly over the back of a carved chair. "Have I leave to sit, your Grace?"

  The King assented with a gesture of annoyance. "How do you propose to take Cliffhaven? Many have tried." He did not belabor the fact that the wreckage of seven royal assault fleets littered the sea bottom beyond the Kielmark's harbor; the former sovereigns of Kisburn had many times emptied their treasuries in attempt to eradicate that den of renegades.

  Tathagres arranged herself in the chair with maddening grace, and spoke only after she had settled herself in comfort. "I had other tactics in mind," she opened, as if answering the King's thought. She glanced up at the dais, her violet eyes gone chilly as arctic sunset. "There are those, among Kor's Accursed, who are willing to become your allies. How invincible would Cliffhaven be against a force which included demons?"

  XIV

  Bid for Mastery

  The advisors shot bolt upright and the taller one banged his fist on the table top with a crash that shook the candlesticks. "That's madness!"

  "You'll bring about our ruin!" shouted the other. "Kordane's Blessed Fires, witch, no man bargains with demons with impunity. Never in Keithland history has there been a precedent. And may I remind that Kor's Brotherhood will never sanction your alliance. That would enrage the populace, surely as tide, quite possibly provoke a revolt against the crown." The advisor paused for a near-hysterical breath.

  But the King spoke before he could continue. "I would hear what motivates the demons, Lady. Why should they wish to support us?"

  The advisors subsided with a rustle of brocades, their worry evident, even to Emien who observed still from the peephole. But linked with the Sathid matrix, Taen could perceive their minds directly; both men regarded Lord Sholl with a mixture of panic and admiration. His opinion very likely might spring the King's decision beyond prudent limits.

  Taen considered Lord Sholl through Emien's eyes, and encountered the same disquiet she remembered from the first time she followed Emien to his apartments, as if the chief advisor's form were somehow draped in shadow. Although she had not attempted direct contact with the man's thoughts, he glanced up and stared at the peephole, perhaps aware someone observed him. Taen felt Emien repress a shiver of discomfort; the secret passage hid him from view, and probably none other than the King knew a peephole existed in the wall. Presently Lord Sholl looked away and Emien found everyone in the chamber had stilled to hear Tathagres' reply.

  "The demons have a grievance with Anskiere." She paused a moment, her eyes distracted, as if she collected her thoughts. But a glance at Lord Sholl betrayed otherwise. Judging by his rapt, predatory expression, Emien would have bet silver upon the possibility the chief advisor was privy to her plans.

  Tathagres resumed. "They wish the Stormwarden's death and access to the sanctuary shrine at Landfast. The Council of the Alliance will certainly defend the Brotherhood's interests; they'll not accept surrender, and for that they must fall. Demons have no scruples, every man knows. They'll direct their own campaign if they must. But since your interests lie along similar lines, why not make an alliance and so preserve the isles under a Kingdom overlord? I can negotiate for his Grace. The consequences shall be mine alone, this I promise."

  Lord Sholl touched the King's sleeve, leaned close and spoke into the royal ear. None in the room heard his counsel. But Taen, quickly becoming more adept with her added powers, quite easily tapped the royal mind with no one the wiser for her prying. She overheard the chief advisor's whisper as clearly as if the man had directed his advice to her.

  "My King, you must be aware of the ramifications of this. The woman is in league with demon powers and has been for quite some time. Better Kisburn controlled her than leave the option for an enemy to exploit."

  Taen detected the fact the Ki
ng's interest was engaged. As a spoiled product of a decadent court, Kisburn held a suppressed fascination for the forbidden, interlaced like thread through a tangle of morbid curiosity. Beneath the state concerns which framed his desire for expansion, he ached to level Cliffhaven, at last eliminate the Kielmark's humiliating demands for tribute on shipping through the straits. Kisburn also coveted the Free Isles, saw their addition to the Kingdom as vindication for an early and shameful defeat at the council table. Taen picked up enough echoes of passion underlying the royal ambitions to convince her; with very little encouragement, the King could be persuaded to accept Tathagres' proposal, dangerously immoral though it was.

  Taen withdrew, distressed by her discovery. With Emien involved, her worst fears would be realized should demons be called into alliance by Tathagres. She could not allow such heresy to proceed unimpeded. Her loyalty to her brother lay too deep. Somehow she would reach him, set him free of Tathagres' influence. Yet even as she resolved to act, the Sathid within her gathered itself expectantly; the trap it had set to bring about her defeat was nearly ready to be sprung.

  Beyond the peephole the advisors groped, desperately trying to raise an argument to counter Tathagres' proposal. "You suggest heresy," said the stouter of the two. He clutched his chain of office as if it were a fragment of the Blessed Relic, proof against the works of Kor's Accursed. "How dare you encourage your King to transgress Kordane's Law? The arch priests should have you burned."

  Slowly, maddeningly, Tathagres smiled. "Let them try." She paused, and for a single fleeting instant her expression sobered. Only her eyes brightened with the same joyous challenge Emien recalled from the time she had commanded him to land the pinnace on Skane's Edge. In link with him, Taen felt the chills which prickled the length of her brother's spine. But she had no time to trace the cause of his uneasiness before Tathagres resumed.