by Ian Whates
Her wine-dark eyes gleamed. “They say that when my people arrived there was nothing around the pinnacle but marshy tidal flats. Now look at it.”
Between the port wall and the palace were houses three and four storeys high, packed with True-men, women and children. The southerners were small of stature, with golden-skin, sleek dark hair and darting black eyes. And they were clearly uncomfortable with my lady, legend given life.
A pilgrimage to the last home of the Wandering Wyrds, I could understand but I did not see what my lady hoped…
“My price for saving the King’s heir will be access to the palace records.”
She’d skimmed my mind again. I looked down to her pale fingers curling around my forearm. Touch enhanced her gift. I used to resent her casual mental intrusion, until I realised that forbidding her this intimacy would be like asking a sighted person not to look.
“Surely you understand, Gyf?” She searched my face. “I’ve always wanted to learn where my people went.”
“The Wandering Wyrds sailed west into the Endless Ocean and were never seen again.”
She sent me a slanting look. “Only the ignorant believe they sailed off edge of the world. My people must have had a destination. They wouldn’t have risked their children.”
“They had no choice. The locals rose up against them.”
“They were great ship builders and sailors.”
“True…” But it was over six hundred years since the Wandering Wyrds had set sail and in all that time no one, not T’En or True-man, had arrived from beyond the setting sun. I feared my lady’s search would bring her only sorrow.
Wordlessly, she squeezed my arm.
“You there, Wyrd!” a man bellowed.
I tensed and went to rise but my lady shook her head and it was she who straightened slowly, making him come to her as the locals watched.
He wore the island king’s colours, cerulean blue and silver. His chain of office was bright against the sun-bronzed skin of his broad shoulders and his sarong sat low on his hips. From his waist hung a nasty scimitar. As he strode across the tavern courtyard, he kicked a foolish fowl aside.
A big man, indeed.
But he had to lift his chin to meet my lady’s eyes and this made him grimace. “They say you can heal when all else has failed. Is this true?”
“If I can heal, I do.”
“None of your Wyrd riddles. I want a straight answer.”
She lifted her hands, palm up. “How do I know if I can heal until I see what’s wrong with the person?”
“You’ll see soon enough. The King commands your presence.” Despite his bluster, his words had the ring of a request. Few True-people could meet my lady’s eyes and fewer still could hold them and remember what they’d meant to say.
I grabbed our travel bags and stood, turning to reveal the deformed side of my face. My head looked as if it had been squeezed while the dough of my skull was still soft, causing my right cheekbone and eye to bulge.
The kingsman made the sign to ward off evil, before leading us out onto the street where half a dozen men formed an escort. Despite the whispers of war, people thronged the market place. Spicy scents made my mouth water. The locals stood aside as we passed and our escort’s swift rhythmic jingle filled the growing silence.
A small boy darted out, face alive with curiosity. The very next moment, a butcher cuffed him over the ear and dragged him off muttering, “Lazy blood-eye.”
Blood-eye… slang for half-blood Wyrd. My lady cast me a troubled look. Slavery was common in the lagoons. If parents became indebted, they indentured their children. But this boy had been unlucky twice over. He combined the southerners’ golden skin with a half-blood’s mulberry eyes and copper hair so dark it was almost black. More proof, if needed, that Wyrds had lived here and interbred with the locals.
So much for King Charald the Conqueror’s attempt to eradicate Wyrds. Banishment had only sent them out into the world, and it hadn’t rid his kingdom of their impure blood. Even now his subjects still produced half-blood babies and, despite the royal edict, not every tainted babe was exposed at birth.
With their vivid colouring the half-bloods were pretty creatures. What’s more, they didn’t have the dangerous gifts of the full-bloods. To this day there was a trade in half-blood infants. Sold as exotic slaves, they were scattered across the mainland. My lady’s own parents had been runaways. They’d sacrificed their lives so she could escape capture when she was fifteen. The following winter, she’d rescued me and I’d been her devoted servant ever since.
She was mine to adore and protect but I could not protect her from herself. I cursed the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer with their hollow legends of Lost T’En.
Just before we reached the palace gate a shout went up as our party met a group of wounded kingsmen. There was talk of Sundowners attacking. I tried to catch my lady’s eye but her mouth was set.
Passing through a beautifully proportioned archway, we entered another white-walled courtyard. As people hurried to help the injured men, my lady hesitated and I knew she was fighting the urge to heal. Such was the power of her gift. Sometimes, it laid her low with mysterious seizures. It was my honour to guard her until she escaped the nightmares.
Our escort led us through a rabbit warren of little rooms where True-people had divided the once grand T’En chambers. At last we came to a tiled ante-chamber and were told to wait. I went straight to the window. It was a long way to the port -wall and freedom but I memorised several paths just in case.
“His Majesty,” a servant announced. “King Vonanjiro, ruler of the Seven Islands. Saviour of Pinnacle Isle. Greatest King in all the Myriad Isles.”
Vonanjiro swaggered in. White haired and heavily overweight, he had to be seventy yet he wore elaborate armour. According to the stories, he was an iron-willed empire builder. At his age, he should have been a grandfather but both his marriages had been cursed with stillbirths. Only three sons had survived to adulthood and they’d died leading armies to serve his ambition. When the last one fell without issue eight years ago, the King had married for the third time and produced another son, a last precious male heir.
My lady and I bowed then I introduced her. “Last of the Legendary T’En, the Lady Shen is blessed with the Gift of Healing.”
“You claim to be a healer, Lady Shen.” The King gestured to me. “Yet you haven’t corrected your manservant’s deformity.”
“Ask him why.”
The King looked at me.
“I wear the face I was born with because the only friends I want are those who can see past it.” If people dared to ask, they usually approved of my answer but I swear the King’s lips twitched.
He turned to my lady. “They say you brought plague to Sundowner Isle. If so, I thank you for killing my enemies.”
“Plague is everyone’s enemy, sire. If you wish to save your people, you’ll isolate every new ship for ten days. Then, only if the crew and passengers are healthy, let them disembark.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “You are a long way from home.”
“I am a student of history. Is it true your family has ruled in an unbroken line from father to son for over six hundred years?”
“It will be true if you can save my son. He languishes with a mystery illness no medicine man can cure.”
“I will do my best, but –”
“You want gold. No matter.” The King was dismissive. “I rule more islands than any other King of the Myriad Isles.”
“I was going to say that I can make no promises and my price is not gold. It is access to the palace records. I’m writing a treatise on your illustrious kingdom.” My lady held out her hand. “Done?”
“Done.” The King grasped her hand briefly. “Come.”
A servant met him at the bed chamber door, reporting on the Prince’s health as they both approached the bed.
Under cover of their conversation, I whispered, “What did you sense, my lady?”
“He’s not long for this world. He has the sugar sickness.”
“Not that. Can he be trusted?”
“His mind is multi-layered. The deepest part hides behind a wall of stone.”
I was not surprised. Some True-people had the innate ability to shut her out.
We entered a dimly lit, sumptuous bedchamber. It was stiflingly hot. Despite the season, a fire burned in a brazier and heavy brocade curtains shrouded the windows. Semi-precious gems glinted in the candlelight but my gaze was drawn to the small figure on the huge bed.
Whatever I might think of King Vonanjiro, I felt for his son. The boy was about six. Slender and pale, he fought to hold his eyes open.
The senior servant joined three lower servants.
“This is Crown Prince Vonanjiro,” the King told my lady. “The medicine men tried everything, even an elixir of crushed pearls and gold dust dissolved in…” He frowned at the corner, where a woman stood in the shadows. “What’s she doing here?”
The senior servant glanced to the child.
“Please, Father,” the boy whispered. “Don’t send her away.”
The King grimaced. “If she must stay, she’s to keep back and remain silent.”
“Tronanova…” the senior servant muttered. It sounded like an insult but it could have been her name.
There was a knock at the door and a kingsman peered in. “Forgive the interruption sire, there’s been an attack on –”
The King swore and strode out, calling over his shoulder, “Bring the healer what she needs.”
The door no sooner closed than my lady turned to the senior servant. “Let in light and fresh air.”
He did not approve but he ordered the curtains opened, which revealed a lattice-shrouded verandah. I beckoned a servant and we went to open the lattice.
“Who is Tronanova?” I asked softly.
“Not who, what,” the servant said. “A Tronanova is an unacknowledged royal child.”
“She’s the boy’s sister?”
“Half-sister.”
I glanced through the archway to the unfortunate woman, seeing only dark hair and eyes. “She is…” I searched their language for the word that meant illegitimate. “She was born outside of the royal bed?”
The senior servant barked an order and my informant hurried off.
I returned to find my lady examining the young Prince. On seeing the painful bruises on his inner arms where the medicine men had bled him, my lady’s lips tightened with anger and a rush of power swept through the room. To me it felt like a fresh breeze, but the boy’s unfortunate sister gasped and the servants looked askance.
“There, that’s better.” My lady sounded pleased.
The boy’s unblemished skin made the servants mutter. Fools, what did they expect of a renowned T’En healer?
“You have been very brave, little man.” My lady’s voice was like honey on a warm day, rich and sweet. “You will sleep and when you wake you will be well. You understand?”
He nodded.
Smiling, she pressed the sixth finger of her left hand to his forehead. At her touch, he fell into a deep slumber.
Then she stood abruptly, eyes glittering. “All of you out. You, too.” She gestured to the unfortunate sister. The senior servant protested but my lady overrode him. “My giant will watch the boy. Go.”
I waited until they were gone. “What’s wrong?”
“Poison.” Her voice shook with anger. “Someone has been poisoning the Prince. Who has the most to gain?”
“His sister?” I gestured to where the unfortunate woman had stood. “If he is the last of the King’s sons, she would be next in line.”
“Tronanova is his sister?”
“The word means unacknowledged royal.”
My lady frowned. “If she’s illegitimate then she can’t inherit.”
I shrugged. “Maybe she wants revenge after being passed over in favour of her brothers.”
“The boy loves her.”
“That makes it easier to slip him poison.”
“Perhaps… But I heard rumours of an ambitious nephew. I must warn the King. Meanwhile, don’t let anyone in.”
I caught her arm. Someone in this palace was willing to poison an innocent boy and she was a hated Wyrd. “My lady –”
“Don’t worry. Vonanjiro needs my gift.”
So I sat by the bed to wait. As the afternoon wore on, I heard people in the courtyard. They spoke as if war was inevitable. At least the boy was on the mend, already his colour had improved.
I could not bear the thought of my lady alone and in danger. Coming to my feet, I found my hand on the hilt of my knife and prowled the chamber. In one way, war was good. If the islanders were distracted we could slip away.
Eventually, the sun set across the sea. Night came quickly this far south. My stomach rumbled, and still my lady did not come back.
I’d just returned to the chair by the bed, when a soft click drew my eye to the fire place. In the dim light I saw a panel shift. Was this how the poisoner had reached the prince?
Feigning sleep, I snored softly as someone approached cautiously. Judging the moment right, I grabbed the intruder only to find the unfortunate sister struggling in my arms.
“You!” And to think, the boy had defended her. Disgusted, I lifted her off her feet, carried her out to the balcony and I swung her legs over the rail.
She gasped, clutching me.
“How could you? The Prince loves you.”
“And I love him.”
“Not as much as revenge. Your father doesn’t acknowledge you, so you poisoned his son to punish him.”
A wild laugh escaped her. Was she mad?
I shook her. “Do you deny that you poisoned him?”
“My brother was never in danger. I needed to lure Lady Shen here.”
“If harm has befallen her, I swear –”
“I would never hurt your lady. My own son is a full-blood Wyrd.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“Why not?” Thrusting her hand in front of my face, she splayed her fingers.
For a heartbeat I saw nothing wrong, then I understood. “Six fingers. You’re a half-blood.”
“Exactly, a Tronanova. So the last thing I would do is hurt your lady.”
The moment I released her, she scrambled back over the rail. In the moonlight, her dark-copper hair and mulberry eyes looked black. It was hard to pick her age. Around thirty, perhaps.
“I am not your enemy, Lord Giant. I need Lady Shen to save my son. The King keeps him locked in the dungeon, poor boy.”
Behind a stone wall… Vonanjiro hadn’t been blocking my lady’s gift as much as hiding his secret.
The unfortunate sister took my hand. “Unless you trust me, Lord Giant, your lady will never leave the palace. My father will imprison her to keep her healing gift for himself.”
“Others have tried.”
“The King is not like other men. Where they have hearts, he has only hunger for power.”
“He might imprison my lady but she would never –”
“She would agree to protect you, just as he kept me prisoner by –”
“Threatening your son. And the boy’s father too, I’ll warrant.” A thought occurred to me. “Was he a half-blood slave?”
“No.” She flinched. “My own brother.”
I was aghast.
She shuddered. “Wyrd blood has always run strong in our line. My father locked away his Tronanova sons, claiming they’d been stillborn.”
“But… why would the King want a throwback?”
“Power. He wants to harness the Wyrd gifts.” She grimaced and her chin trembled. “It was too much for my brother. He took his own life. I was going to smother the baby at birth, but he was so helpless…”
I reached out to her.
She shook her head, every bit as determined as her father. “The King’s gamble paid off, my son has visions.”
“I’m sorry.” I hated to d
estroy her illusions. “They’re not visions, only hallucinations caused by gift-induced seizures. My lady suffers from them too.”
“My boy saw you. He told me to trust the philosopher with the ruined face.”
I was still trying to make sense of this, when she took my hand, leading me inside. “We must go.”
“I can’t leave the Prince. I promised my –”
“He’s safe. And it is not your lady who is in danger.” The unfortunate sister drew me across the bed chamber. “The King has sent men to –”
Voices came from the adjoining room and the connecting door started to open. We ran for the fireplace. I had to bend double to get through the opening but once inside the secret passage I could stand normally. The panel closed just in time then I felt her turn towards me in the dusty dark.
In silence we listened, as around half a dozen men entered. Unable to find me, they feared the King’s wrath and went to search further afield.
“I must warn my lady.”
“Do you love her?”
How could she ask? “I’d do anything for her.”
“Then come with me.” The unfortunate sister pressed a candle stub into my hand. “This place is riddled with secret passages. They’ll get us as far as the palace wall. I’ve made hooded cloaks but I’ve never been outside the palace.” She struck a spark and her mulberry eyes gleamed with fanatical determination. “You must promise to take my boy with you.”
“Of course.” With a little boy to love, my lady would have what she’d been searching for. “I won’t fail you or her.”
Voices reached us as more people entered the chamber. The unfortunate sister snuffed the candle.
“…see for yourself, sire,” my lady said. “Your son is sleeping safely.”
“The poison?”
“Will be gone by tomorrow.” A pause. “That’s odd. I told Gyfron to watch –”
“I have your giant locked in my dungeon,” the King said. “Do you think me a fool, She-Wyrd? You come here calling yourself a student of history but I know you’re here for revenge. It was my ancestor, Vonanjiro the First, who led the rebellion against your people. He was going to murder them in their beds but someone sounded the alarm and the Wyrds fought their way to their ships. We executed those left behind, put their heads on pikes along the port wall. The only good Wyrd is a tame Wyrd, I say. And that’s what you’ll be, now that I have your giant.”