Sunstone

by Freya Robertson

  Demitto nodded, met Catena’s eyes again and walked back to his horse.

  An uncharacteristic wave of sympathy swept over Catena for the brave boy. Over the years he had done nothing except irritate her, but now she wished she had taken the time to get to know him better. Everyone needs affection in their lives, she thought. The Arbor knew she had been starved of it for long enough herself, and that her loneliness had affected her deeply.

  She rested a hand on the Prince’s arm as he went to walk past her. “Are you sure you feel well enough to continue?”

  Tahir looked up at her, his unusual golden eyes reflecting the bright sunshine; so dazzling she had to blink for a moment to clear her vision. “There is no point in drawing this out,” he said. “I just want to get it over with now.”

  He walked past her, and she followed him slowly. He was right of course. His name was already written in the Quercetum, his future imprinted upon time as surely as if it had been carved into stone. Delaying his arrival would serve no purpose now. The time for worrying, for debating, for anything but action had long gone.

  She mounted her horse and they set off again, and for the rest of the day they spoke little. Tahir remained pale but composed, Demitto seemed lost in thought and the Heartwood guards talked in low voices amongst themselves, so Catena spent her time looking around, enjoying the chance to see something of Anguis for once.

  It surprised her how much the countryside had changed since her last visit to Prampton several years before. The bush had encroached a lot further across the landscape and in places it had covered the road so much that they had to push aside ferns and vines to continue their journey. Sub-tropical insects buzzed between lush vibrantly coloured flowers, while to the east what had once been fertile fields of wheat lay parched and barren.

  Catena looked to the west, where the range of mountains that ran down the centre of Anguis reared above the jungle, disappearing every now and then into the clouds. At their bases where the earth’s crust thinned and lakes pooled, geysers erupted regularly, while the occasional plume of smoke curled into the air. The whole world seemed to be bubbling, she thought, a pocket of unease settling in her stomach. She had grown used to the tremors that ran through the ground, but she was sure they had increased in frequency and severity since she was a child. Why was that? What was causing the land to boil like a hot stew?

  She cast a glance across at Demitto, sure he knew more than he was letting on about the current situation. There was no doubt the mysterious emissary was a lot more than he made himself out to be. She had watched him captivate Tahir with his tales as if casting a spell over him, and there was something… otherworldly about him that marked him out as much more than a simple ambassador.

  As she had suspected, halfway through the day when they stopped to refresh the horses and partake of some lunch, he had unbuckled his fancy armour, wrapped it carefully in cloth and stowed it in the panniers on the back of one of the spare horses. Now there was nothing to mark him out as anything other than a standard traveller, dressed in breeches and boots and a thin sleeveless tunic; his dark hair once he had removed the helmet in its usual disarray. And yet still he exuded a strange aura that she could not quite put her finger on…

  The day passed slowly and by the time they reached the small hamlet halfway between Harlton and Prampton she was ready for rest. They handed their horses over to the inn’s stables for rubbing down and looking after. It was too warm to sit inside the inn so they stretched out in front of one of the streams and the landlord’s daughter brought their food and ale to them outside.

  She tried to engage the others in conversation but Tahir was sullen and Demitto seemed distracted, so in the end she played dice with a couple of the guards and then went to bed.

  The rooms were warm and stuffy, and although she managed to doze for a short while, she tossed and turned restlessly and eventually sat up, uncomfortable and irritable, wanting a drink of water. Tahir lay quietly on the pallet beside hers, Atavus at his feet, and the other guard in the room with them also appeared to be asleep, so she rose soundlessly and left. The tap room was empty, everyone abed, so she made her way outside.

  The night was clear, the Light Moon on the wane high in the sky. It cast an eerie silvery-pink glow over the dozen buildings in the hamlet, filling the place with shadows and shining patches wherever it hit metal.

  Beneath her leather boots she could feel a faint vibration in the ground. At first she thought it was one of the rumbles they had been experiencing, but instead of stopping after a few seconds like it normally did, this time it continued, as if a hundred wild horses were galloping along the road towards them.

  Frowning, she walked through the buildings, seeing no sign of what could be causing the vibration. She rounded the last house and stared up the road to the north, still not spotting anything suspicious, but as she walked a little way away from the hamlet, the vibrations seemed to increase, travelling up through her bones and making her teeth ache.

  She walked about a hundred yards up the road. Here the bush hadn’t quite sunk its claws into the countryside and so the road was flanked by natural forest, oaks and ash trees, the undergrowth choked with bracken and nettles.

  The vibrations increased. Heart pounding, her brain told her that she should go back to the hamlet and get Demitto to come with her, but her feet refused to wait and crunched through the bracken towards the source of the rumbling. Chinks of moonlight slid through the network of branches above her head, coating every other leaf in silver.

  Something moved in the trees and she stopped and slid behind the trunk of a large oak, then gradually made her way forward to what appeared to be a tiny clearing. A figure – a man – sat in the centre, legs crossed, his hands thrust into the grass in front of him.

  It was Demitto.

  Catena stared. As her eyes grew used to the darkness, she saw that his hands rested on a wooden object pressed into the earth. He was mumbling something under his breath, and it was only when a reply came that she realised with shock that another figure stood in front of the emissary. And yet it wasn’t a real person. The shape of a man shimmered against the leaves – an illusion, composed of shadows and light, a tall figure cloaked and hooded – and it was from him that the rumbles were emitting.

  Before she could think better of it, she gasped aloud. The figure immediately vanished. Demitto’s head snapped around. He stared at her, and Catena’s breath caught in her throat, terror filling her at the sight of his eyes flickering with orange-red flames.

  III

  Sarra walked back along the quayside, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, looking across the Great Lake. The White Eye had nearly disappeared across the rim of the Caelum, and the crowd were beginning to realise that there wasn’t going to be a great revelation – that basically the appearance of what she knew to be the Light Moon in the sky meant no significant change in their lives, and everything would carry on as it had always done. The rich would stay rich and the poor would stay poor, and nobody would be saved.

  The mood had turned from joyful to rebellious, and the Select had poured from the palace, distinct in their gold sashes, and were breaking up the crowd and sending everyone back to the districts. It was taking a while, though, excitement and despair and anger making the people unruly, and above the raucous singing the occasional yell or scream rang out, along with a splash as someone got pushed into the water. Occasionally an individual got frogmarched back through the palace gates.

  Sarra couldn’t stop herself glancing up at what she now knew were Comminor’s private rooms. There were no lanterns on the wall at that height and therefore the long window remained in darkness, which was probably why she had never noticed it before. She could not see a figure there, and it was possible he was somewhere on the quay helping to regain order, but still a shiver ran down her spine at the thought that he could be standing there, watching her.

  Her head was still spinning. The Chief Select was interested in her.
She would not be a woman if she wasn’t immensely flattered by that. Of all the females in the Embers, all the rich women who would have done anything to be chosen, he had picked her.

  She was baffled by his decision. Mirrors were rare in the Embers, but she knew from the occasional glance in the blade of her eating knife that she did not possess the sort of beauty so prized by their society, nor the plumpness that marked one out as wealthy. She had been puzzled enough when Rauf had shown interest, let alone his superior. She was nothing special.

  Because of this, she could not help but feel convinced that Comminor had an ulterior motive. Perhaps he thought to gain her loyalty and then she would spill the details of the Veris like the sliced stomach of a salamander would spill slimy intestines.

  His affection had seemed genuine though. His kiss had been soft, his eyes filled with amusement and interest, not determination or curiosity. She had been frightened of him because she had heard such awful tales of his cruelty, and yet standing there before him, she had found it difficult to believe in them. Was it possible for a man to be so gentle and tender one minute, so cruel and hard the next?

  She shook off her doubts. Comminor had not known she was pregnant. His affections – even if they weren’t real – would not have been so fervent had he known.

  Reaching the edge of the quay, she looked across the Great Lake to the far side. Nele was just visible, standing in the shadows by a shop that sold plates and bowls made from turtle shells, their agreed meeting point. Along from him she could see Turstan walking down the edge of the lake, ostensibly in his role as Select, but privately waiting for her to join them ready for the journey they were supposed to start that night. She could not see Geve, but she knew he would be there, as would the others, waiting for her.

  They would be wondering where she had got to. They had agreed to meet just after the evening lanterns had been extinguished, but now she was an hour late, and she knew they must be starting to panic.

  There was still time, she thought as a fight began just fifty feet away from her and numerous Select rushed to break it up. She could circumnavigate the lake and make her way to the others, and then they could slip away into the shadows and begin their journey.

  She looked up into the darkness. Was he there? Was he watching her at that moment? Did he know they were supposed to be leaving that night – was that why he had chosen to find her during the ceremony? Or was it just a coincidence?

  She could not risk it. Turning, she slipped through the crowd and made her way back through the Primus District to her rooms.

  Sarra was standing in line in the communal food hall the next day when she felt a presence against her back and glanced over her shoulder to see Geve there. Her mouth curved automatically into a smile, but when he met her gaze, his eyes were stony and his lips stayed in a firm, hard line.

  Her smile faded, and a peculiar ache twisted her inside. She had spent most of the night lying awake dreading this confrontation. She had tried to convince herself that he wouldn’t be angry, but it looked to be as bad as she’d feared.

  “What happened?” he murmured, glancing around the hall to make sure they weren’t being watched.

  She looked down at her hands miserably. They used to talk openly, but since she had entered the Veris, their communication was always conducted in whispers and in secret. She missed the gaiety of ordinary life, and she missed her friend. Why had she got herself caught up in all this?

  “Comminor came to me,” she whispered.

  Geve went still. “He knows?” His words sounded tight, forced out through gritted teeth.

  “No.” She swallowed. “It was nothing to do with… anything. He wanted… to see me.”

  “You?”

  She moistened her lips. “He expressed an interest in me.”

  For a while, Geve said nothing. They shuffled forward in the queue, and when they reached the table, she held out her bowl for that morning’s helping of porridge. The dark oats that grew in the northern Primus caverns cooked in goat’s milk did not look particularly appetising, but she knew she had to eat for the baby’s sake.

  Geve received his breakfast and joined her at one of the tables. Luckily, following the celebrations, with most of the population having a hangover, the room was nearly empty and they were able to speak in privacy.

  “Was he serious?” Geve asked.

  Sarra met his gaze. For a moment she was speechless. She knew how he felt about her, had always known, right from when they were young. And she liked him. Who wouldn’t like the curly-haired joker with his teasing comments and his quick wit? But although she knew he would have liked to take their relationship further, she had never felt about him in that way. He had always been more like a brother.

  Until she met Rauf, she hadn’t really understood why she had never urged Geve to court her. Geve was not harsh to look upon, he was gentle and considerate, and he liked her. He would never rank highly in the Embers’ strict social hierarchy, but she had no expectations in that regard and knew he could provide a stable enough existence for her.

  It was only when she met Rauf and fell in love that she realised what had been missing in her relationship with Geve. She did not love him, and once she had tasted the strength of that emotion, she knew she could not have a relationship without it. Rauf had made her heart thunder, and no man yet had done the same.

  Briefly she thought about Comminor, and how she had felt when he kissed her. Then she pushed the memory away.

  Was he serious? Geve had asked.

  “I… do not know. Maybe. Although I cannot think why.”

  Geve gave a wry smile as he ate his porridge. “I know you cannot. That is part of your charm, Sarra dear.”

  “Geve, do not tease me. I am hardly the epitome of beauty. I am so thin my ribs show through my skin, and my hair does not shine like that of the ladies from the palace. I am not educated in literature or music, and I have no outstanding talents to speak of.”

  He continued to look at her, the hardness in his eyes softening. “There is something within you that shines forth like a lantern,” he said. “I cannot explain it, but it has always drawn me to you. Rauf saw it, and now it seems that Comminor has seen it. I am not surprised.”

  He wiped his lips and studied her thoughtfully. “Are you considering his offer?”

  “Geve! How can you even say such a thing?”

  “I would not condemn you for it,” he murmured. “Marriage to the Chief Select? You would never want for anything again.”

  “It was not marriage he was proposing, and do you really think I would even think about it for a moment?” She leaned forward, guilt at the memory of how she hadn’t pulled away from Comminor’s kiss, forcing her to fake indignation. “I am part of the Veris, and I have sworn to guide you to the light. I do not go back on my word. Besides, he does not know I am pregnant. Can you imagine what will happen when he finds out?”

  Geve shrugged. “Maybe nothing, if he wants you that much.”

  “He would not want to raise another man’s child!”

  “You know him so well, Sarra? He wants you – you do not know what lengths he will go to get you.” Her friend’s blazing eyes betrayed his jealousy. He knew he could not compete with the most powerful man in the Embers, and it burned him to the core.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “He has given me a month. So we must escape within that time. I am still not sure he is not using me to get to the group. I am not as convinced about my ability to charm men as you are.” She winked at him.

  He dropped his gaze and pushed the porridge around his bowl. “I am sorry. I should not be jealous. I have no claim on you.”

  “You are my friend – the best friend I have. Of course my welfare is of importance to you.”

  His eyes rose to meet hers. “You know you are more than a friend to me, Sarra. You know I would wish to be more to you than that.”

  Words stuck in her throat as if she had swallowed brambles. “It would not be wise for us
to pursue a relationship while Comminor insists he is interested,” she said cautiously. “He will be watching me. We should not even be talking really.”

  Geve’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. Of course.” He went to rise.

  She caught his arm. She could not bear for him to lose hope. He was a good man and he had set his heart on having her, but she knew he would never force himself upon her, and there were many men who would. He would make a good husband, and even though he did not make her feel as Rauf had done, she should not turn her back on such hope for her future, for her baby’s sake if not her own.

  “Geve… If we do make it out of here, make it to the Surface and start a new life…” She hesitated and met his eyes. “I would be yours. If you will have me.”

  He held her gaze. Passion and hope flared in his eyes, and for a brief moment Sarra saw him how he truly was – a man, not the young boy she had known all her life, thin and scrawny and with a high, infectious laugh. Although still slender, his shoulders had broadened and his muscles were firm, and for the first time she could imagine them under her fingers, her hands sliding beneath his tunic over his skin. He would make a good mate.

  “Until the Surface,” he said, his voice husky.

  “Until the Surface.” She watched him walk away.

  Two men, she thought. Two lives that could not be more different. Both tempted her for different reasons. One was safe, promised security and protection for her and her child. One risked everything for the chance of a better life. Or maybe both terms could apply to each option? The thought made her smile wryly. Each choice had its risks. And its rewards.

  Which should she choose?

  CHAPTER SIX

  I

  Julen tracked Horada as far as the forest, only to find that her trail vanished about halfway into the woods. He had long suspected that she possessed similar talents to himself and that she knew perfectly well how to make herself invisible should she truly desire, and so the distinctive – to his eyes – blurring of the leaves down by the stream and the sudden absence of her aura did not completely surprise him. But he was concerned as to why she had suddenly had to employ her abilities, especially once he saw the charred footprints amongst the dry leaves on the ground.