‘Who taught you the Kellach tongue?’ asked Dyam. ‘You speak it well.’
‘An old Kell man in Plateau City,’ Daphne said.
‘So you know three languages?’ Lilyann said.
‘Four. I also speak Sanang.’
Lilyann put a hand to her mouth. ‘Is that where…?’
‘Where what?’
The table hushed as Lilyann’s face went red. Bridget picked up the jug and filled everyone’s mugs.
Lilyann stared at Daphne.
‘Where the Creator spoke to you?’
Daphne snorted, ale coming out of her nose.
Bridget slapped her on the back.
‘How did you know that?’ Daphne said.
‘So it’s true?’
Daphne lit a cigarette.
Lilyann watched her, her eyes alight.
‘Well?’
‘I’m not going to talk about it right now,’ Daphne said. ‘Who told you?’
‘A man.’
‘Millar?’ Bridget said.
Lilyann nodded.
‘Deacon Millar,’ Bridget said to Daphne. ‘He’s a missionary from the One True Path who keeps trying to get onto the estate. He sneaked in once, and found our mages.’
‘And he told you about me?’ Daphne said to Lilyann.
‘He said lots of interesting things about you,’ she replied. ‘He said I was to be very careful. That you were dangerous.’
‘Have you converted to the creator-faith? ’
‘Do you deny it’s true?’
Daphne shook her head, and took a drink.
‘This ale’s all right,’ she said, ‘but it’s making me want to pee. Are there any spirits?’
‘Gin,’ Bridget said. She called over to the serving boy, who nodded.
They sat in silence as the boy brought over a bottle, and four small cups. Bridget poured, and Daphne took a sip.
‘That’s more like it.’
Bridget smiled.
‘What did he say to you?’ Lilyann said.
‘You still talking about that?’ Daphne said.
‘The Creator spoke to you,’ Lilyann cried. ‘Am I the only one that thinks that’s not fucking normal?’
Bridget shrugged. ‘Daphne’s religion is her own business.’
‘I’m a wee bit intrigued,’ said Dyam. ‘This Creator is the god of the Holdings, right? And we’ve banned their missionaries from coming in. But if Daphne really has spoken to their god, then they’re telling the truth, and maybe we should allow them in.’
‘Exactly,’ Lilyann said. ‘Daphne’s living proof that the church is right.’
All eyes turned to her.
‘The church have tried to kill me several times,’ she said, ‘and my daughter.’
‘Because you turned from them,’ Lilyann said.
‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ Daphne said, glaring at the young mage. ‘You’ve heard a bit of truth mixed in with the church’s lies, and fallen for it.’
Lilyann opened her mouth to reply, but Bridget growled at her from across the table, and she sat back in her seat, scowling.
‘Religion is banned as a topic of conversation,’ Bridget said, refilling their cups with gin. ‘Does nothing but cause arguments. Let’s stick to a safer subject, like sex.’
Dyam smirked. ‘Funny how you only want to talk about it now that you’re getting some. ’
Bridget grinned.
‘That big ginger oaf?’ Lilyann said. ‘You shagging him?’
Daphne laughed, her head swimming from the gin. She checked her pockets, and realised she had left her keenweed at the mansion.
‘And what about you, Daphne?’ Dyam said. ‘You and Killop been getting it on?’
She thought back to that morning and smiled.
‘Aye,’ Lilyann said, swigging from her cup of gin. ‘What’s he like?’
‘None of your business,’ Daphne said.
‘Aw, go on,’ Lilyann said. ‘Is he good?’
‘I’m not discussing it with you.’
‘Be like that,’ Lilyann frowned. ‘It doesnae matter if you tell us or not, we already have a pretty good idea what he’s like, judging from the noises that Larissa used to make.’
Daphne narrowed her eyes as the table went quiet.
Dyam glanced at Bridget, alarm on her face.
‘Who?’ Daphne said.
‘No fucking way!’ Lilyann cackled. ‘You mean he didnae tell you about Larissa?’
Daphne looked over to Bridget, who shrugged.
‘It’s when he thought you were dead.’
Daphne pushed back her chair and got to her feet, the sound of Lilyann’s laughter in her ears.
‘You, shut it,’ Bridget muttered at her. ‘Stupid wee cow.’
Daphne walked to the door.
‘Where you going?’ Bridget called after her.
‘Need a minute,’ she said, slamming the door behind her.
It was evening, she noticed, and the breeze was chill on her cheeks. She shivered, through a mixture of cold and rage.
Why had he not told her? The thought of him with another woman made her feel sick, but she couldn’t condemn him, not if he had believed she was dead. But to leave her open to such humiliation was too much. She staggered, then shook her head and began striding up the hill towards the mansion .
The courtyard was quiet, and she entered through the main doors. She tried to remember where their rooms were. They were on the top floor, she thought, her mind clouded by drunken anger. She needed to find some stairs.
‘You lost?’ a voice said.
Daphne gazed down the hall to see a middle-aged Kellach woman approaching.
‘I’m Draewyn,’ she said. ‘We met briefly when you first arrived. I heard that you were back… Are you all right?’
‘Fine.’
‘You been drinking?’
‘Was out with Bridget,’ Daphne said. ‘Could you help me find where I’m supposed to be staying?’
‘Of course,’ she said, turning. ‘This way. Out with Bridget, eh? No wonder you look so drunk. I saw you come in on the wagon with Killop earlier today. Did you have a good time away?’
Daphne said nothing, concentrating on not tripping up the stairs they were climbing.
‘I suppose Bridget told you about her and Bedig,’ Draewyn went on. ‘Been stuck to each other for days. Mind you, he’s a good-looking young lad, and he’s cheered Bridget up no end. She was moping about the place when you and Killop first went off…’
‘Could you stop talking, please?’ Daphne said.
Draewyn tutted, but said nothing. They reached the top of a flight of steps and Draewyn gestured to a door, her lips closed.
‘Thanks,’ Daphne muttered, and barged through.
She came into a large chamber, with a fireplace, tables and chairs. Kneeling in front of the fire was Bedig, playing with Karalyn, who noticed her mother, and emitted a squeal.
In the other corner of the room Killop was standing leaning over a table with Kalden, examining documents.
Daphne steeled herself and walked over.
Killop turned, his eyes doing a double take when he saw the rage on her face .
‘I just had to learn about Larissa,’ Daphne said, ‘from that little bitch Lilyann.’
Killop’s face fell.
Kalden coughed, and sidled away.
‘I was going to tell you,’ Killop said.
‘We had twenty days,’ she said, her right fist clenched. ‘You should have told me.’
‘I didn’t want to ruin our time together.’
Her anger boiled up, and for a moment she felt like lashing out at him, as Lilyann’s laughter echoed in her head.
Karalyn let out a high wail, and Daphne felt a wave of raw power come from her daughter, and surge towards Killop. It passed through Daphne’s protections as if they weren’t there, and penetrated his mind.
Killop’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the flo
or, convulsing.
Draewyn screamed and ran forward.
‘What’s happening to him?’ she cried.
Daphne tried to get close, but his limbs were thrashing about. Specks of foam spattered down his beard. Bedig came over, holding Karalyn, who was crying, her face wet. He passed her to Daphne, and knelt next to Killop, gripping the chief’s shoulders and pinning him down.
‘What the fuck?’ yelled Bridget, rushing into the room, Dyam and Lilyann behind her.
‘Help me,’ Bedig said. ‘He’s having a fit.’
Bridget and Dyam took a leg each, while Daphne tried to calm Karalyn, who was wailing.
Killop’s convulsions stopped, and he lay still on the rug, drenched in sweat, his eyes closed.
‘He’s breathing,’ said Draewyn, leaning close.
‘What happened?’ said Bridget.
Daphne shook her head, unable to form any words.
‘He was rowing with Daphne,’ Draewyn said. ‘Then he just toppled over. ’
Bedig caught Daphne’s eye. He glanced at Karalyn, but said nothing.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ Daphne said.
‘Let’s get him into his bed,’ Draewyn said. ‘Hopefully he’ll sleep it off.’
As they lifted Killop, Daphne sent a thin thread of vision into his mind.
She flinched, sensing the raw pain that his consciousness had retreated from. His thoughts screamed, and his memories lay scorched and shredded. She tried to weave more protection around him, but there was nothing to latch on to, just agony.
Daphne started crying, and Draewyn put an arm around her shoulder.
‘There, there,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’
Bedig, Dyam and Bridget lowered Killop onto his bed. Dyam glanced at Draewyn, and they nodded and left, taking Lilyann with them.
Bedig and Bridget stood to one side, as Daphne held Karalyn and wept.
‘I think we should tell Bridget,’ Bedig said.
‘Tell me what?’ Bridget said. ‘Do you know what happened?’
‘It was Karalyn,’ Daphne said, ‘but you can’t tell anyone outside this room.’
Bridget stared at her, mouth open.
‘It’s true,’ said Bedig. ‘Both bits.’
‘She has mage powers?’ Bridget said.
‘Yes,’ Daphne said, ‘but she’s never done anything like this before. She can sense my moods, and I was angry with him.’ She looked down at Killop’s unconscious body. ‘I wanted to hit him. Karalyn sensed it, and…’
‘She did this,’ Bridget said. ‘Fucksake, Daphne, I don’t know if I can keep this quiet. Your daughter is a danger to everyone. What if you get angry with Bedig, or me? Fuck, Lilyann won’t last a day.’
‘I’ll stay in this room for now,’ Daphne said, ‘with Killop and Karalyn. No one will be in any danger. I just need to figure out how to stop her from doing it again.’
‘Do you think you’ll be able to?’
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I have to try.’
‘All right,’ Bridget said. ‘I’ll not say anything about this, but if you can’t stop her, we’ll be having this discussion again.’
‘I understand,’ Daphne said. ‘Just give me a few days.’
Bridget nodded, then glanced at Bedig, and the two Brig left the bedroom.
Daphne sat on the mattress next to Killop, and gazed at Karalyn. She entered her daughter’s mind, but could see no regret, or even any real memory of what had happened. The child’s consciousness intertwined with her mother’s, and Karalyn beamed in joy.
Daphne turned toward Killop, leaned over and kissed his clammy forehead. She sat Karalyn down and took Killop’s hand. A sense of helplessness fell upon her. She had lied to Bridget. She had no idea how to stop her daughter.
‘What have you done, Kara-bear?’
Chapter 15
Winning
B roadwater, Kingdom of Sanang – 24 th Day, Second Third Autumn 506
Agang was glad that Chane had gone, that she wasn’t there to witness his failure.
Rain was falling, but he ignored it, standing still and alone on the roof of the Great Hall, the highest point in Broadwater.
A third had passed since Chane had left, a third in which the news had grown grimmer by the day. More scattered veterans of engagements with the rebels had streamed into Broadwater, their will to fight extinguished.
Beechwoods, his home for nearly a decade, had been taken, and burned to the ground, Drechtan and his garrison along with it. The firewitch had a simple method of dealing with any village, homestead or fort that tried to stand against her. Surrender, or burn. And if you surrendered, you had to join her army. Drechtan had refused to surrender, probably knowing he would be killed either way, and Beechwoods had burned.
Agang had moved his remaining regiments to the west of Broadwater, to block their advance, but the rebels had surprised him, and circled round to the south, crossing the Twinth near the mountains. The smoke on the horizon was coming from the east, about ten miles distant he guessed.
That it was the firewitch, there was no doubt. Scouts and fleeing civilians had been running towards Broadwater down the east road all morning, splashing across the river fords into the town. The main street was filled with wagons that had been prepared to transport the last Holdings out of Sanang, but the trip had been cancelled when it became clear the rebels were advancing down the road the evacuees had hoped to take.
Legate Robban had been furious, and had ordered every Holdings up to the citadel for safety. They knew what happened to their folk who were captured by B’Dang, and many locals had mocked the fearful expressions on their faces.
He scanned the town’s defences. Thick palisade walls were useless against the firewitch, and there was no knowing where she might choose to break through. Agang had two thousand soldiers in the town, while reports stated that the rebels had at least twenty times that number. It didn’t matter where she broke through. The town was doomed.
He had never received definitive word that Mandalecht was dead, and he harboured wild hopes that his faithful one-eyed commander would appear, leading his regiments to the fords of the Twinth, the site of so many battles against the Holdings. This time Agang would be fighting his own people. To them, he was just like the Holdings, and represented the empire, which they had rejected.
Fools, he thought. They would rather descend back into barbarism and warfare than embrace any kind of progress. With B’Dang in charge, Sanang would revert to its worst, a land where lives were worth nothing. He had tried to end the violence, and this was his reward.
He had been unable to look Pieper in the eye since Chane had told him about the war god, and the powers possessed by the Holdings mages. She had worked it out, while he had been blind and gullible. How they must have laughed at him, fooled by an illusion into allying with the Holdings, instead of crushing them .
If he ever got his hands on the priest responsible, he would rip his head from his shoulders.
He was relieved that he had told no one else about his vision during the siege of Plateau City. Hodang and his other advisors believed the alliance had been due to Agang’s strategic foresight, rather than the result of a Holdings priest donning a mask and impersonating the war god.
It was too late to do anything about it, he knew, as he watched the smoke grow closer. The firewitch was razing a swathe of forest by the road, where a small lookout fort stood, still several miles from the town.
‘Uncle,’ he heard from behind him.
Agang said nothing as Gadang approached.
‘The garrison is on full alert,’ he said, ‘and is awaiting your orders.’
The king nodded.
‘I will go down and lead the defence of the town myself,’ he said. ‘You will remain in the citadel to protect the royal household. If I fall, you will be king. I trust you will do what is required.’
Gadang’s face paled. ‘Yes, uncle.’
Agang turned and made his way
down the steep wooden steps, Gadang following. They passed by the floors of the Great Hall, where guards and servants rushed down corridors. On the ground floor groups of people were milling around, clutching onto their possessions, or carrying weapons. Pieper and Legate Robban tried to get his attention as Agang strode towards the main entrance, but he ignored them. A squad of soldiers were waiting for him in the mustering yard in front of the hall, and he nodded to their officer.
‘Your Majesty,’ he bowed.
‘Let’s go,’ Agang said, and the squad moved into a flanking formation.
‘Wait!’ a voice cried.
Agang turned to see Hodang run across the yard.
‘Your Majesty,’ he panted. ‘Where are you going? The citadel is the most secure part of Broadwater. We agreed to stay here.’
‘And you shall,’ Agang said. ‘Lock up the citadel once we’ve gone. I intend to confront B’Dang D’Bang from the town walls, where my people can see me.’
For the first time Agang could remember, Hodang struggled to find anything to say.
‘Don’t worry old friend,’ Agang said. ‘I don’t intend to die down there. At least not before I’ve strangled the life out of that bastard B’Dang.’
‘You have a plan, your Majesty?’
‘No.’
Agang turned and began walking towards the citadel gates, his escort keeping pace. As they reached the wide earthen ramp leading down into the town, the stout wooden gates of the citadel were closed behind them with a thud.
They passed the old training grounds on their left, where so many of Agang’s regiments had been drilled. On their right was a row of walled-off warehouses, filled with the remainder of the gold and valuables taken from Rahain, the treasury in the citadel having been filled up. All of it would soon be in the hands of B’Dang, Agang thought, trembling with rage.
Soldiers filled the main street, the civilians having been forced back into the residential areas in the northern half of the town. The wagons that had been meant for the Holdings withdrawal were now blocking the gates to the ford, lashed together and piled up. Like a bonfire, Agang frowned.
The gatehouse towers were fully manned, with crossbowmen lining the narrow battlements. Agang made his way there, passing groups of soldiers, many drinking or smoking to prepare themselves. At the gatehouse, soldiers cleared a path for him, and he ascended to the top of the main tower astride the gate.
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