Stormlord Rising

by Glenda Larke

  When she was ushered into her sister’s room a little later, Vivie was still wearing her night robe and her eyes were heavy with sleep. She stared at Terelle blankly. “I’ll be waterless,” she said finally. “It really is you. I didn’t know whether to believe the maid when she said my sister was here. Though I did hear that Stormlord Jasper was back and Highlord Taquar’s been imprisoned. Was that something to do with you? I’ve been puzzling and puzzling as to why two such important men would both be interested in you.”

  Terelle had been about to hug her, but resisted the urge. Vivie didn’t sound particularly pleased to see her.

  “I paid back everything you owed Opal,” Vivie went on, “if that’s what’s worrying you. The bitch wouldn’t let me go until I paid everything.”

  “Shale said he gave you enough to be free of this kind of life.”

  Vivie shrugged. “And what would I do? Where would I go? I prefer this.” She waved a hand around the room and brightened. “See this, Terelle? Silk sheets, no less! Changed every day. Look in my jewelry box over there. It’s full of corals from the Giving Sea and opals from the Gibber. I have one customer a night, and I get to choose who. You know what happened? When people heard both Lord Taquar and Lord Jasper had sought me out, men—rich men—came asking for me. They wanted to know what was so special about me. Then Madam Suzur heard about it and made me an offer. And now—now men line up for a night with Viviandra! Who would have thought it?”

  “Are you happy, Vivie?”

  “Of course! How can I not be? Terelle, you haven’t come to—to spoil things for me, have you?”

  Terelle stared at her, not comprehending. “How could I do that?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe Lord Jasper wanted his money back or something. Or maybe now that you mix with all these fancy people, maybe you’re ashamed of having a sister who’s a handmaiden…”

  Terelle shook her head, at a loss for words. Vivie really did want to be a handmaiden? “Don’t worry about it, Vivie. You do what you like.”

  Viviandra looked relieved. “Are you staying in Scarcleft?” she asked politely.

  Terelle shook her head. “No. I’m leaving with Shale. Jasper. He is going to join the rest of his army. We are going to reclaim Qanatend.”

  Vivie’s relief disappeared under a worried frown. “I did hear rumors Scarcleft was in danger from Reduner attack. Is that true? Are they going to try to take this city the way they did Breccia City and Qanatend?”

  “We are going after them first. Shale thinks he can stop them before they cross the Warthago Range again. Better that than waiting for them to arrive here and having to defend the city, the mother cistern and the tunnel.”

  “But… isn’t that dangerous? I mean, for you to go with Lord Jasper? Why don’t you just stay here?”

  Terelle looked at her sister in silence. She wasn’t going to explain that she had to paint a picture for Shale every day just so he could make clouds. “Shale needs me,” she said finally.

  Vivie’s puzzled look dissolved into a knowing smile. “Oh! Really? Pebbles and sand, you have done well for yourself, then, haven’t you? But you know, you ought to call him Lord Jasper, like everyone else does. Men like that kind of thing.” She grinned cheerfully, having at last reduced Terelle’s situation to something she understood. “You are the lucky one. He’s nice, Lord Jasper. D’you know, he wouldn’t sleep with me? Although I did offer. I’ve often wondered why not. I mean, he’d paid for me and all.”

  “I think he probably had other things on his mind,” Terelle said kindly. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with your charms. Vivie, I have to go. He’s expecting me back in Scarcleft Hall. We have a lot to prepare before we leave. If—if there’s anything you ever want, you can find me through him.”

  Outside again a few moments later, Terelle paused to lean against the gate while she took a couple of deep breaths. Her armsman escort, supplied by Shale, politely looked away.

  There I was, she thought, worrying myself sick over my sister, who is perfectly happy with her imperfect life. While I, the companion and assistant to the Quartern’s only stormlord, surely now more respectable than I ever thought I would be, feel trapped. She pushed herself away from the wall and headed up to Level Two. Irony was so very, very irritating.

  “I don’t understand why I have to share a myriapede with her,” Senya said. She was speaking to her mother, but her gaze was on Terelle, already mounted on the first segment of a hack from the Scarcleft stables.

  “Perhaps because she knows how to drive one and you don’t,” Terelle told her sourly. “Frankly, I don’t relish the idea of riding seated in front of a spoiled, whining brat. So just mount up and stop whingeing.”

  “How dare you!” Senya snapped.

  “Easily. Believe me, after all I’ve been through, I’d dare almost anything.”

  “Just mount up, Senya, dear,” Laisa told her daughter wearily.

  “But I don’t understand why she has to come, anyway,” Senya continued. “She’s not a rainlord. What use is she going to be when we go to battle? Who is she? She’s just a nobody.”

  “A nobody who is getting very sick of being discussed as if she wasn’t here,” Terelle snapped. “Just plonk your rear end into that saddle before I really lose my temper!”

  This time it was Laisa who took umbrage. “You would do well to remember who you are addressing,” she told Terelle.

  “Oh, I remember. The traitorous daughter of a traitorous mother. Believe me, I am wondering why you are here, Senya. I can understand why Lord Laisa may be of use, as she has sworn fealty to Lord Jasper and he has need of all the rainlords he can get—but you? What possible use are you?”

  “Not another word!” Laisa snapped. “There is an odor about you that I don’t like, Terelle Grey. Rumor has it you started life as a snuggery handmaiden, so maybe that explains it. And I have an idea I have seen you before somewhere. I suspect you must be lying about some aspect of your past.”

  Terelle shrugged, unworried. She thought it unlikely their paths had ever crossed, but she didn’t trust Laisa and had chided Shale for being overly trusting. She’d also asked him why he wanted to bring Senya along. Pressed for a reason, he’d said, “I promised her father I’d take care of her.” And he’d flushed as he said it.

  Senya tossed her head. “Oh, you’re just jealous because Jasper has been in my bed and he’s going to marry me, not you. I’ve seen you looking at him with your tongue hanging out like an ant sipper.”

  Terelle, speechless with shock, stared at her. When her brain started working again, she thought bitterly, She’s not as dumb as I thought. Or as harmless.

  Senya, looking past her, halted her spiteful tirade, but only because Shale had ridden up. He was dressed in the finest of clothes, looking like an upleveler of wealth and power. Around his neck he wore his piece of bloodstone jasper, now polished and mounted on a gold chain; Feroze Khorash had returned it to him and he’d taken it to a jeweler. He looked like the lord he now was—but he’d obviously overheard Senya because he was flushing a deep red.

  He glanced at Terelle and said woodenly, “Climb up behind me. Senya, you share your mother’s hack. We’ll leave this one to some of the Gibbermen; they could do with another mount.” He signaled one of the guards to come and take the reins.

  Terelle couldn’t speak, and her thoughts were in turmoil. Is it true? Did you—? Senya? No, surely not! Not that piece of useless frill.

  Wordlessly, she climbed down and mounted behind him. He swung his mount around toward the hall gate and—still in silence—they began their journey north to meet up with the joint Quartern army being assembled in the Warthago.

  She wondered if he could feel her glare boring into his back as they rode. He must have heard what that stupid girl had said; wasn’t he going to say anything about it? Sandblast him! She’d be weeping waterless before she’d start the conversation. She wasn’t the one who had some explaining to do… Oh, how could you, Shale!


  They’d left The Escarpment and the walls of Scarcleft behind them and were climbing up through the drylands of The Sweeping, the peaks of the Warthago ahead of them, before he spoke. He turned his head sideways so she could hear and said, without looking at her, “I’m sorry—”

  So it’s true, she thought. He did bed her. She interrupted abruptly. “Whatever for? You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I owe you more than that. And I am sorry.”

  “Perhaps it is Senya you should be apologizing to, not me.”

  “Perhaps. But I didn’t want you hurt.” His face flushed even redder as he said the words. He still wasn’t looking at her, and all she could see was his profile.

  “Hurt? Who says I’m hurt? I’m snuggery-raised, remember? I am used to what men do. It doesn’t matter. You never promised me anything beyond friendship, anyway.” So why do I feel as if I have been gutted?

  He looked over his shoulder then, his expression wretched. “Please try not to argue with her, Terelle. She’s very young and silly yet. And she has been through so much. First she lost her father and her grandparents. Then she lost her home and her city. Then her mother married Taquar. And now—now, she has lost Taquar and all the security he offered. She is much to be pitied.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line to stop the tears collecting behind her eyelids. She was damned if she would cry.

  What the sand hells does he see in her?

  The answer was obvious, of course. Senya was as pretty as her mother was beautiful. They deserved each other, Shale and Senya.

  That thought was followed quickly by another: No, Shale deserved better, for all that he carried his brains between his legs. No one deserved that little bitch. I’m just jealous. How stupid is that? She was wise enough in the ways of the Scarpen, surely. When would she ever learn? She was a lowleveler, born in the Gibber, brought up in a snuggery, and his beginnings might have been humble, but he was Cloudmaster now. They stuck together, these rainlords. All uplevelers at heart, and they didn’t like it that a nobody from a downlevel snuggery was close to the new Cloudmaster.

  And of course, none of them knew why she was so important. She had insisted on that and he had agreed. They both knew Shale had to have stature to rule. He was young and inexperienced, yet he was putting himself forward as the Quartern’s Cloudmaster. The Council of Rainlords had yet to ratify him in the position. It wouldn’t have been wise for anyone to know he still couldn’t shift clouds without another’s help. So she had only herself to blame that all the rainlords around Shale, including that awful Lord Gold peering down his priestly nose, looked askance at her. They all knew she had been raised in a snuggery—Laisa had made sure of that—and their scorn and contempt were on their faces every time they looked at her.

  He bumbled on. “I made a mistake,” he said. “I was stupid. I botched things up, and it has been horrible. Please, Terelle, don’t turn away. I don’t think I could bear it.”

  “A few words of apology doesn’t mend broken things, Shale. Are you telling me you are free to marry whomever you please?”

  He was silent.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” she said when it was clear he had nothing to say. “Because I’ll be sandblasted if I have anything at all to say to you.”

  It’s not fair. I could love him so well… Sweet water save me, this is going to be an interminable journey.

  “You can’t do this to me!”

  Jasper tilted his head. “Pardon?” he asked politely.

  Horrified, Taquar was staring at the scattered stones of a ruined building and the grille set into the cliff slope behind the ruins. For three and a half days he had been drugged with festin root to make sure he didn’t use his water-power on his captors. Strapped to a transport pallet, he had been manhandled like a sack of bab fruit on and off a pede. The effects of the drug were wearing off, and the rainlord was now sitting upright on the pallet where Jasper and Iani had unloaded it.

  Jasper knew what the drug was like. Not only had Laisa used it on him, but so had his Reduner kidnappers when he was a boy taken from his village at Taquar’s instigation. It had been an unpleasant, terrifying experience for a lad who had just seen his family murdered, and he had little sympathy for Taquar now.

  Dispassionately, he contemplated the scene. The ruins had once been a caravansary on the main route between Breccia and Pebblebag Pass in the foothills of the Warthago; the grille barred the entrance to what had been the caravansary’s cistern cave. The whole complex had been abandoned when a landslide further along had swept the track into a ravine, making the route permanently impassable. Few people even knew of its existence anymore.

  Iani had selected the place and shown Jasper, and only the two of them were there now with Taquar. Together with Terelle and the guardsman Dibble, they had parted company with the army over a day earlier, leaving their destination a mystery. Terelle, deeply reluctant to have anything to do with Taquar when he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, had gone with the guardsman to explore the ruins while the two men dealt with the rainlord.

  Jasper handed Taquar a crutch; then he and Iani helped him stand upright. Taquar’s left leg was healing well, but doubtless it still hurt too much to put it to the ground. He staggered, and had to lean against the pede for support.

  “We thought it appropriate,” Jasper said. “I spent nearly four years locked behind a grille like that one there. So did Lyneth. Eight years, between us, and Lyneth was only a child. You’re an adult. Eight cycles should pass quickly enough, don’t you think?”

  “Eight years?” Taquar stared at him, aghast. “Why? I didn’t hurt you!”

  “Didn’t you? Oddly, that escaped my notice. Still, we have no intention of hurting you, either. Physically, that is. You will have adequate food, just as I did. All the water you can drink. We have refilled the cistern. We’ve supplied furniture, clothes, blankets, books. A rainlord will personally deliver your supplies every thirty days, just as you did to me. If it happens to be Iani, I wouldn’t rile him, if I were you. He hasn’t exactly forgiven you for Lyneth’s death, or Moiqa’s for that matter. Take my advice and be extra polite. He is the new Highlord of Scarcleft, did he tell you that?”

  He took Taquar by the arm and guided him firmly into the cavern. Most of the wide cavern opening had been blocked with solid metal bars, still sound after several centuries. The entry grille door was narrow. The single long cavern beyond was about a hundred paces deep, the back of it lost in darkness.

  Iani, limping on Taquar’s other side ready to catch him if he fell, said, “It goes without saying we have devised several locks for the grille that don’t depend on moving water. And, by the way, this whole prison thing wasn’t my idea. I wanted you dead. Still do. At the very least, I wanted to put you in an underground room without light and feed you on bab mash for the rest of your life. Jasper has said I can only do that if you don’t behave here. He also said I had to tell you that. And so now I have, but believe me, there won’t be a second warning.”

  He didn’t have to say why it was impossible to imprison Taquar in Scarcleft. How could you keep a rainlord behind bars when he could threaten to kill any water-blind person within range of his powers? When he could move water in other parts of the building to do whatever mischief he wanted? He had to be isolated.

  Taquar looked from one to the other. He was pale-faced, but he managed defiance. “Davim will bring you down, Shale.”

  Shale, not Jasper. The blighted bastard. “He will try, certainly. When I have his head on a trencher, I will send it to you.” He looked across at Iani. “Let’s get on with it.” As he took Taquar’s other arm, he added, “Davim is already on his way back into the Scarpen, by the way. He’s still north of the Warthago Range, but he’s heading south from Qanatend.”

  “How the hell could you know that?” Taquar growled.

  “I can sense his water. Or rather the water of an army as large as his, and it is huge. But other than that, I sent for
him, in a manner of speaking. After you did, I will admit, but I have a quicker way of communicating than sending a messenger on pedeback. Either way, Davim might think he is riding to your aid, but I intend his defeat on a ground of my choosing.”

  Taquar looked at him blankly.

  “I don’t like our chances if we ride deep into the Red Quarter,” Jasper explained. “Yet I dislike the idea of letting Davim loose once again in the Scarpen. So I am enticing him into a trap. By the time I finish, there will be no Sandmaster Davim. I intend to wipe the scourge that is his dune and his marauders off the face of the Quartern.” He steadied Taquar as the man stumbled.

  “You sent him sky messages.”

  “That’s right. Signed by you, of course. Handy skill, I find.”

  “He’s not going to believe they came from me.”

  “He might—because you so obligingly asked him for help anyway. In my messages, I just increased the size of the bait. Myself. Delivered up, supposedly by you, to do what he wants with.”

  Taquar snorted. “We shall see, shan’t we?”

  “Jasper is soft-hearted,” Iani added. “He says we might consider letting you out after eight years. I say you deserve to die several times over. We haven’t resolved that question yet.” He walked to the back of the cave to pump some water from the cistern into the pede trough outside the cavern entrance. The pede ambled up to the trough to drink, and Iani went out to unload it.

  “We have already supplied you with some of the basics,” Jasper said, waving a hand at jars and barrels and boxes arranged along one side of the cavern. “Seaweed briquettes for fuel, oil, candles, preserved food. And these are your first fresh supplies,” he said, as Iani brought in the first of the sacks. Jasper knew better than to ask him if he needed help. Iani’s pride made him resent any suggestion that his weakened arm and leg curtailed his ability to do normal tasks.

  Taquar lowered himself onto a chair with an involuntary groan. Jasper, remembering the painful effects of being tied to a pallet for hours, guessed he was aching all over. Iani went to get another sack.