‘Did you bind the last Reader,’ Orla asked. ‘Iliana Rowntree?’
The woman looked away, pursed her lips and nodded.
‘I’m surprised that you have been allowed to remain here,’ Orla said, ‘given the views of the Brethren on the practise of magic.’ She saw a shift in the woman’s expression and wondered if she had overstepped her bounds.
‘Oh, I am easy enough to overlook,’ Feona said quietly. ‘I do not seek to be noticed, do not seek to be involved in the affairs of the Palace. I do not have any true magic, just the remnants that were passed on to me by my Teacher when I was but a girl not even as old as you. Still, they are effective enough when used on a mage-born. I bring the string and you bring the glue, as it were.’
Orla paused. She listened. She could sense the guard outside. He was bored, restless, distracted. Nobody else was within shouting distance. And there was something about this woman… In a moment, she had decided.
‘I need your help,’ she said in a low voice.
Feona said nothing.
‘I need you to bind me again. To a further purpose.’
The woman looked at her, eyes narrowing in a hard, searching expression.
‘Before I was brought here my sister, Merryn, was captured by the Uruhenshi. She was accused of crimes she did not commit and was executed. I promised to save her and I failed. The man who captured her, who ordered her execution, will be arriving at the Palace next week as a member of a party of Uruhenshi that are having audience with the King.’ She paused, and reached out for just a moment, met the woman’s mind. She sensed that Feona was torn – between duty and anger, love of the King and hatred of the Brethren. Orla took a breath, then plunged.
‘I intend to kill him.’
‘And you wish me to bind you to that purpose?’ Feona said.
‘I do. I can pay you…’
The woman made a harsh, guttural sound and spat on the floor beside them.
‘I do not perform the binding ceremony for gold.’
‘I… I’m sorry. I just meant–’
‘The blood of a Brethren would be payment enough.’
Orla started.
‘You mean–?’
The woman nodded. ‘But if we are to do this, we need to do it quickly and have it done. Nobody must guess. Nobody may know. Do you understand?’
Orla nodded dumbly.
She found herself seated on the floor before Feona, being anointed with something that smelled spicy and tart.
‘Hold your purpose in your mind while I recite the binding,’ Feona said in a low voice.
Orla closed her eyes as the heavy smoke wafted from the herbs Feona burned, and then she felt herself drifting, fading, and somewhere, far away, a voice intoning words so ancient that their meaning could only be guessed at. And then the touch of calloused fingers on her forehead, her throat, her chest. A heat that turned to burning, and then, in an instant it was done.
It took her a few minutes to come around, and as she did Feona bustled about finding the equipment Orla required and packing her a small bag of the tea they had drunk.
‘I can tell you like it,’ she pressed the bag into Orla’s palm. ‘Go well young one,’ she said, but her eyes were shadowed with doubt as she said goodbye.
✤
When Orla returned to her room, she saw the guards had changed. Farlin and the golden-haired woman were gone, and a pair of younger men had taken their place. Their dark hair was cut short in the style of the King’s Guard. Their stance was formal and their gaze unwavering.
One stepped before the door as she was about to open it.
‘Am I not permitted into my own chamber now?’ Orla said.
He was around her age, with hard blue eyes, and a small scar above his right lip.
‘You are Orla, Reader to the King?’
‘I am,’ she said, holding his gaze.
He stepped aside once more.
She opened the door, and started – Roland was sitting, waiting for her. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.
‘Are they your doing?’ she asked, gesturing towards the door.
‘I was concerned that your guards were becoming complacent. Two attempts in as many weeks on your life. Now is not the time for laxness.’
‘I liked the old guards. I’d gotten to know them.’
‘Never mistake friendliness for competency.’
Orla placed the vessel down beside the fireplace, waiting for the inevitable questions that she was sure Roland would ask. Then – surprised to find they did not come – she sat down beside him.
‘I’ve hardly seen you in weeks. Are you in hiding? Have you been losing on the cards recently?’
‘Far from it,’ Roland said. ‘And you should know by now that winning is much more dangerous than losing. I wished to speak with you, Orla.’
She felt immediately suspicious. ‘About what?’
‘I need you to know that things might change, and soon. I need you to be prepared.’
Orla regarded him curiously. ‘Things are always changing. It is the law of Ishkarin. All changes, nothing remains.’
‘Yes, yes, so the saying goes, but some changes are more… consequential than others. There is a difference between a shift in the wind and a typhoon bearing down.’
‘And we are facing the typhoon?’
He nodded.
‘You cannot tell me more?’
He shook his head. ‘I only know what I know from rumours and guesses…’
‘Can you tell me those?’
‘Better not, I think. Rumours should always be contained. With your permission, though, I’d like to put a plan in place should anything eventuate, to ensure your safe removal from Kir-Enkerelan. Would you allow me that?’
It would hardly matter, Orla thought. So long as she made it to the meeting with Piroxi, she didn’t care what came after.
‘What is your plan?’
‘There are more ways of entering and leaving the Palace than most people realise. I will ensure that there are guards with you at all times who know those ways, and who have the promise of a great reward should they bring you out safely, on my signal.’
‘And what if you’re not around to give the signal?’ she said. ‘You’re almost never around these days.’ She didn’t like these obscure allusions to danger and disaster.
‘They will know the correct time to act.’
She looked at him sitting there. Roland was the one person she had felt she could always rely on. He had brought her back to health and back from despair. He had been the first person with whom she had been comfortably able to be herself. And yet. And yet. She knew so little about him. He seemed to be somehow untouchable by the Council, he had free access to the King, and he commanded his own men amongst the guards. No small feats, Orla thought, for one who not so long ago had sworn he was nothing but an elderly man approaching death who never wished to set foot in the Palace again. She knew that if he was hearing rumours or becoming concerned, she should probably take notice. But once again she wondered: who are you really? And why do you care?
‘Kynan has returned,’ Roland said, leaning back in his chair as though the matter was settled. He sipped at the cup of tea he’d poured himself before she’d arrived.
‘Really?’
‘Indeed.’
‘And where has he been, all these weeks?’
‘His work sometimes takes him away from the Palace. He has, could you say, diverse interests.’
‘I look forward to seeing him,’ Orla said, and she did. She’d tried to put his absence out of her mind but she felt it nonetheless. She felt more isolated and less protected without him around.
Roland smiled. ‘And he you, I am sure,’ he said. ‘And have you heard from Ged since his sudden departure?’
Orla regarded him curiously. ‘You know?’
‘I am the Reader’s keeper. It is my business to know everything that concerns you. Even the things you don’t. Are you certain you want
him to do this thing for you? He is stubborn and perceptive and has highly developed research skills. If there’s anything to be found, he will find it.’
‘I’m certain,’ Orla said, then had a sudden rush of nervousness about what might be uncovered.
‘Aderon worries about this bond that has developed between the two of you, but I believe only good can come of it,’ Roland said.
‘It seems it is everybody’s business but ours,’ Orla replied.
Roland laughed. ‘Are you really that naïve, little one? If it effects the stability of the realm, it is all of our business.’
Orla stared. The stability of the realm? Her friendship with Ged?
Roland eased himself up out of the chair, groaning a little and rubbing his back.
‘Have you lost weight?’ Orla said. She was sure that his stomach was a little less rotund, his movements a little quicker and more precise.
‘Now that is certainly not your business,’ he chided her.
‘Must be the Palace cooking.’
‘Awful,’ he agreed, shaking his head. ‘Well, remain alert. You can trust the guards I’ve set. They may be humourless bastards but they will take care of you should it come to that.’
Orla nodded, a sudden feeling of ice in her veins. ‘I wish you could tell me more,’ she said.
Roland smiled gently. ‘In time, perhaps.’
She knew when she was being brushed off.
Chapter forty-one
She checked the hanging branches each day. The drying proceeded as she hoped it would, the flowers fading and becoming brittle, the berries turning to small hard balls that crushed to a powder when she rubbed them between her fingers. By the end of the week they were ready.
She was just about to begin preparation when there was a knock on the door. She rushed to open it, hoping as always that it might be Ged returning. As the days passed, his absence worried her. She didn’t doubt his ability to navigate a library or decipher ancient texts, but she was not sure how he would manage on his own, out in the wide world.
She opened the door and stepped back.
‘My lady.’
Kynan bowed deeply. His hair was in disarray, his clothing rumpled. He looked like he’d just now stepped off a boat after a long journey from the outer isles.
‘Roland said you had returned. Come in.’
The equipment she had been preparing to use was in a pile on her desk. She steered him to the seat under the window and hoped he wouldn’t notice it.
‘You must think terribly of me,’ he began, running a hand across his forehead as he sat. ‘I take you from the Vaults and deliver you to the clutches of my dear sister. I visit you a total of once while you’re in the care of Roland. I present you to the Council and then leave.’
Orla blinked, unsure how to respond.
‘Of course, I knew you were in good hands with Roland as your Keeper. And he has kept me up to date too, so far as possible. You’ve been doing remarkably well, Orla. And in many ways, it’s probably better that I have not been here. My presence is sometimes divisive…’
‘I’ve been meeting with the King,’ Orla said finally. ‘Just as you hoped I would.’
‘I’m glad. Anyway, I’m not here to beg your pardon, although I know that’s how it sounds. I’m here to ask you to accompany me on a short trip.’
Orla opened her mouth. She couldn’t afford to go anywhere. She had the potion to prepare, and the Uruhenshi could arrive any day. She had to be ready. She had to be here.
‘I think the King expects me to be available to him…’ she said.
‘Oh, don’t worry. They wouldn’t let me take you far. I’d have half the Guard after me if I took off with the King’s Reader. No, I just mean an hour or two out of the grounds. I’ll have you back by nightfall.’ He looked at her, his expression hopeful and expectant.
It seemed she could not avoid it.
‘I’d be happy to see some more of the mountains of Vaturi,’ Orla said at last. ‘I hear they’re very beautiful.’
‘And so, you shall,’ Kynan grinned.
✤
She’d expected they would take a coach as they had done for their previous travels. To her surprise, Kynan escorted her directly to the stables where a pair of horses were already saddled and waiting.
‘I’m sorry, I should have asked. You do know how to ride?’ he said, as he unhitched the larger of the two and prepared to mount.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said. She’d ridden a little on Joseph’s farm. She wasn’t a natural, but her gift helped. If nothing else, she could soothe the animal that bore her so it was less likely to startle and bolt.
Kynan helped her up and then they rode together, following a narrow bridle track through the Palace grounds, under broad-branching trees, then past a guardpost and onto a road that wound steadily upwards.
‘Where are we going?’ Orla asked.
‘A place I used to visit with my father, when he was Councillor. It was where he went to think. Not many know of it.’
They rode on in silence. It was a warm afternoon, the insects buzzed amongst the trees and birds called clear notes above them. Orla felt that if she could just close her eyes and breathe, forget for a moment everything she’d been through, everything that was to come, the world might be almost perfect. For a moment, at least.
‘Tell me about your father,’ she said finally, to break the silence.
‘Ah, my father. Councillor Westron. What is there to say about a man such as him…’
‘Which of you take after him, you or Genevieve?’
Kynan laughed. ‘I see what you’re getting at there. Gen, without a doubt. He was a fierce man, principled and unbending. He gave his life for the Council.’ And then Kynan faded off into silence. Orla sensed something tingeing the air, some deep sadness. She was sorry she had asked.
Kynan continued after a pause. ‘He took it all so seriously. The deliberations, the speeches, the formalities. The responsibility of it weighed heavily. To allow himself a break from it all, he used to hunt, here in the Palace grounds. He’d exchange one moving target for another, the King would say. My father would take me with him and complain that I was bad luck, I seemed to keep the prey away. I’ve never been one for blood-sports. My sister on the other hand…’
‘I can imagine,’ Orla said, thinking of the look that Genevieve had given her when she’d seen the serpent in Orla’s chamber.
‘Ah, here we are…’ Kynan slowed his horse, dismounted, and tied it to a tree. Orla followed his lead.
‘This is a sight that few ever see,’ he said in a low voice, and gestured. Orla looked, then gasped.
They were only trees, Orla tried to tell herself, but she knew that was not true. She took a step forward, then hesitated.
‘It is an Ashkar grove. You may enter. You will come to no harm.’
She walked to the centre of the clearing. It was as though the air hummed with a sweet and gentle tune. The light seemed golden, the earth soft beneath her feet. The trees’ canopy arched delicately. She felt embraced by it, by the world itself. It was a feeling beyond words.
She turned to Kynan and saw him smiling.
‘I thought you would feel it. Not everybody does.’
‘The trees, are they tended?’ she asked. She recalled what the King had said to her about the Ashkar trees and the Ashkarai, growing together.
Kynan’s face darkened, and he shook his head. ‘Sadly, no. But still, even wild, they have a beauty to them, do they not?’
Orla nodded. She couldn’t speak.
Kynan drew a deep breath in through his nostrils and sighed. ‘I need to talk with you Orla. That is the reason I came back.’
It was as though a cloud passed over the sun. The warmth was gone.
‘I thought you’d come back because you are a member of the King’s Council and have duties that you are required to perform.’ The words sounded harsher than she’d intended them.
Kynan looked at her, his gaze dire
ct, unflinching. ‘The thing is, you see, I fear that soon none of that will matter. I have not been certain, so I haven’t spoken sooner, but I believe the time is almost upon us. The Darkfall is coming, Orla. And we are not ready.’
Orla instantly felt her skin prickle as she thought of her dream; the blacked-out sky, the rain of fire, the hideous creature standing over her…
‘How could you know that? It’s been so long. How do we even know there will be another Darkfall?’
‘We don’t. But there are signs, if you know what to look for. I will not say more, it might not be safe for you to know. But I would not tell you this without reason. It is coming. And it may be upon us faster and sooner than any could imagine. And then, all this–’ Kynan gestured to the spires of the Palace roof just visible above the tree-line. He did not finish the sentence.
‘Why are you telling me? What am I to do?’
‘There is one last sign I seek. I will leave again tonight. And then, when I return, I hope to have proof that will convince all but those who are completely lost to the dogma of the Brethren. In the meantime, I ask that you warn the King.’
Kynan was leaving again, and so soon? Something sank within Orla. Then she reminded herself that she was bound to her own darkness. By the time Kynan returned with his proof, she would just as likely be dead. What happened beyond that would be somebody else’s story, not hers.
‘The other thing I ask is that, if the darkness comes, remember this.’ He gestured at the trees, the grove, the sunlight. ‘Hold it strong within your heart. May it be a light to guide you, Orla.’
Chapter forty-two
She sat in the high library surrounded by books in languages she didn’t read or speak. She had been there for two hours now, paging through the volumes to keep the librarian at bay, although he still shot her untrusting glances every few minutes, as though he knew she were up to something, he was just yet to work out what it was. And she was up to something. The exact spot she had chosen to sit, at a desk on the mezzanine beside the large window, was the best place to see carriages approaching.
The Dying Flame Page 20