Besieged (The Outcast Chronicles)

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  ‘...so there is no way of telling if the babe will be born a True-man or a half-blood?’ Hiruna asked.

  ‘Not if you don’t know when it was conceived. What will you do if it’s a half-blood?’

  ‘I don’t even want to think about it. Kolst has his heart set on going home.’

  ‘We can both go home. Set me free,’ the she-Wyrd urged. ‘I’ll take the baby and your boys to my people.’

  Izteben would have left their hiding place and confronted the she-Wyrd, but Sorne caught his arm, and a moment later Hiruna found them on the stairs.

  ‘You heard?’

  They nodded. Sorne asked, ‘Why is Da so sure the baby won’t be a half-blood?’

  ‘He’s served the church for thirteen years as a penance. He thinks this baby is a sign the gods have forgiven him for being arrogant when he was a young man.’

  ‘What will happen if the baby is a half-blood?’ Izteben asked.

  Their mother shuddered. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘ONLY ONE BROTHERHOOD warrior.’ Imoshen shaded her eyes but the distance to the boat, and the glitter of sunlight on the sea, made it impossible to identify the lone T’En. If her father had sent only one of his two seconds, then...

  ‘It will be Hand-of-force Irian,’ Frayvia said.

  Imoshen chewed her bottom lip. ‘My father’s never failed to visit before.’

  ‘Perhaps he is ill.’

  Baby Iraayel was sitting up now. He waved a chubby hand and sang out. Imoshen smiled and planted a kiss on his dear little neck. He wriggled with delight. This last half year, she had never been happier. Not only did she have Iraayel to love, but Frayvia had proven to be a true friend. Even so, she had been looking forward to seeing her father and uncles.

  Shading her eyes, Imoshen stared across the sea. The boat was close enough now for her to see the lone T’En wasn’t either of her uncles. Only something serious would keep Irian from seeing his son. ‘Not Irian or Ardeyne.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Frayvia asked. ‘Has this ever happened before?’

  Imoshen shook her head.

  ‘I hope...’

  ‘Me too, Fray.’

  When the boat drew close, Imoshen asked, ‘Do you know this T’En?’

  Frayvia shook her head. ‘I didn’t have much to do with the T’En. My brother made sure of that.’

  She hadn’t said who her brother was, but Imoshen gathered he was a high-ranking Malaunje. Then it struck her, he might be T’En, which would explain why Frayvia never mentioned his name.

  As the boat pulled into the shallows, Imoshen studied the lone T’En. He was more boy than man: long legs, soft cheeks, rather pale. By the way he carefully climbed out of the boat, she concluded he wasn’t used to the sea.

  The island’s Malaunje had gathered on the beach and now hung back, whispering. She detected an undertone of worry.

  As the lone T’En came up the beach towards her, Imoshen set off to meet him. ‘Who are you, and where is my father?’ Then she recalled her manners. ‘Welcome to Lighthouse Isle. May your stay restore your balance. Is something wrong with the all-father?’

  He hid a smile. Did he think her gauche? Imoshen bristled.

  ‘Is Voice-of-reason Ardeyne safe?’ Frayvia asked, adding quickly, ‘and Hand-of-force Irian?’

  ‘They’re well.’ He gave Imoshen the formal obeisance of equals – no one had ever bothered before – then removed a message from under his vest. ‘But it was not safe for them to leave the city.’

  Imoshen passed Iraayel to Frayvia before accepting the message. The moment she touched it, she sensed the youth’s gift. The message contained no more information than she already knew. It was written in formal language, and addressed to the cook, which made it most unsatisfying.

  He stepped closer, lowered his voice and explained kindly, ‘In case I was killed on the road and the message discovered, it’s made out to the cook to keep your identity–’

  ‘...hidden. I’m not stupid,’ she told him, and stepped back. Why couldn’t he keep his gift reined in?

  ‘I’m to stay to check the catch and the island’s tithes. They said you might send a message with me when I return but it would have to be written as if you were the cook.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘How old are you?’

  He drew himself up. ‘Eighteen.’

  A youth then, not much older than her. It seemed she was no longer important to All-father Rohaayel, otherwise why would he send an errand boy?

  Imoshen sighed. ‘I suppose you’d better come up to the lighthouse. Cook will get you something to eat and I’ll show you to your room.’

  She turned to find the gathered Malaunje waiting. Of course, they wanted to know what was going on.

  ‘Brotherhood business has prevented All-father Rohaayel’s visit,’ Imoshen announced. ‘Bring your tithes to...’ She glanced to the T’En errand boy. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Initiate Reothe, tithe-collector for Tithe-master Ysanyn.’

  As Imoshen led him towards the lighthouse, a Malaunje followed with his travelling kit. She recognised him as Netaric, a regular visitor, one who might know more – if she could just get him alone for a moment.

  Once inside, Frayvia took Iraayel upstairs for his nap while Imoshen showed Reothe into his bedchamber.

  Netaric put his things down. ‘Will that be all, Initiate Reothe?’

  ‘Find me a study so that I can collect the tithes and check the catch records.’

  Netaric nodded and left.

  Imoshen went to follow him.

  ‘Imoshen?’ Reothe called after her.

  Why was he staring at her like that? ‘What is it?’

  ‘They didn’t tell me you were beautiful.’ He flushed, and she felt his gift surge.

  Immediately she raised her defences. When her father called her lovely, she’d always assumed that he was biased because he loved her. Reothe’s observation surprised her. It also confused her, because she couldn’t see the relevance. Perhaps this was how they talked in the city.

  She gave the obeisance of equals, as he had done earlier, and tried to formulate a polite reply. ‘Thank you. You are very beautiful, too. I have work to do now. If you need anything, Cook can be of assistance.’

  And she left him, running downstairs after Netaric. Through the door to the kitchen, she could see him chatting to the cook. Imoshen hung back, eavesdropping on their conversation.

  ‘...don’t be worried. All-father Rohaayel is the smartest of the lot. Now tell me how you’ve been.’

  ‘This initiate, what is he to the all-father? Isn’t he a bit young to be entrusted with this task?’

  ‘He is, but the all-father’s taken a shine to him. He’s clever and gifted, and I know he’ll go far. I’ve missed you, Melli. Come here and give me a kiss before the others get back.’

  The cook laughed like a girl, and there was no more useful conversation.

  Sighing, Imoshen turned to find Reothe watching her from the end of the hall. Her face grew hot; she gestured to him to hold his tongue as she approached.

  ‘You were listening at the door.’

  ‘How else am I going to find out what the Malaunje are saying? Now come along and I’ll find you a suitable study.’

  She opened a door and stepped into a dusty room. ‘I’ll have a table and chair brought up here. That way the Malaunje won’t have to give up one of their rooms in the big house.’

  ‘T’En don’t usually worry about inconveniencing Malaunje.’

  ‘They would if they could hear what the Malaunje think of them.’

  He stared at her blankly for a moment.

  ‘What now?’ she asked.

  ‘The things you say... I don’t know what to make of you.’

  Imoshen laughed. ‘Then it’s just as well you don’t have to make anything of me.’ He might be from the city and her father might be grooming him for greatness, but she wasn’t impressed.

  ‘So, you have all the answers, do you?’
/>
  ‘How could I, when I don’t have all the questions?’

  He laughed at that.

  She grinned. Now things were getting interesting.

  SORNE ALWAYS LOVED fishing. The moment Oskane declared it a rest day, he had taken off with Izteben and Zabier. That afternoon, they returned with five fine trout. The air was warm, with the promise of the summer to come, the mountainsides green and the shadow of their family’s imminent break-up made every moment precious.

  ‘Wait ’til I show Da the fish I caught,’ Zabier crowed. He ran on ahead and pushed open the kitchen door.

  There was no sign of their mother, and nothing cooking on the stove for dinner. A baby’s cry made them run to the door to their parent’s bedroom.

  Hiruna sat up in bed with a newborn at her breast. ‘You have a little sister.’

  Zabier ran to the bed and threw his arms around their mother. ‘I don’t want to go. Can’t we stay here?’

  The baby was all wrapped up, and Sorne couldn’t make out if it had six fingers or the Wyrd eyes. ‘Is it a half-blood or...?’

  ‘Half-blood,’ Hiruna said, voice raw as if she’d been weeping.

  ‘Good.’ Zabier hugged her. ‘That means we can stay.’

  But Sorne knew there was no easy answer.

  OSKANE OPENED THE report from his port agent and read it swiftly. King Charald’s queen had delivered another blue baby. Good. So far the king still had only one heir, in Cedon. The lad was three and a half years younger than his half-brother Sorne, which made him around Zabier’s age.

  Next he read Matxin’s report. His cousin’s youngest son had inherited the barony after the elder brother took a wound that turned septic. Matxin was always urging Oskane to make his move, but Oskane would not be rushed. Both half-bloods needed to be fluent in T’En before they could blend in to the Malaunje of Cesspit City. From his research about the brotherhoods and sisterhoods, he was leaning towards using the boys to assassinate key leaders, then plant incriminating evidence so the T’En would turn on each other. This would weaken them and make them easier to conquer. According to his sources, the king’s debt to the T’En was mounting. The day Oskane came to Charald with a way to defeat the Wyrds would be the day his family was restored.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  Franto opened the door for Kolst. Oskane had heard the birthing screams and, from the carpenter’s troubled expression, knew the news was not good.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Kolst said. ‘Why are the gods punishing me like this?’

  Oskane had no answer. The more he looked for answers, the more questions he found.

  Kolst ran his hands through his receding hair. ‘Hiruna won’t part with the babe. It’s like a madness with her. As long as she keeps it, we can’t go home.’ He turned to Oskane. ‘Do you have need of another half-blood?’

  ‘I plan to send the boys out in a few years. The child won’t be ready. She should give it to the Wyrds as soon as possible. The longer she holds onto it, the harder it will be for her to give it up,’ Oskane said. He’d never really understood why Kolst put up with Hiruna. The man could have held a position of respect in his village. ‘She’s your wife. By law, she has to do what you say. You’ve been more than fair. Most men would have repudiated her when she produced the first half-blood and taken another wife. Most men would leave the babe with the Wyrds, take their wife and son, and go home.’

  ‘It’s Zabier I worry about,’ Kolst confessed. ‘The way he follows Sorne and Izteben around, he might as well be a half-blood.’

  ‘You have a responsibility to your True-man son,’ Oskane agreed. ‘I’ve put aside a sum to help you establish yourself when you do get home.’

  Kolst looked up, and Oskane could see the longing in his eyes.

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  IMOSHEN FOUND FRAYVIA dozing with baby Iraayel in her arms. She took the sleeping infant and placed him in his cradle, before turning back to her friend. The room was lit by moonlight, turning Frayvia’s hair and eyes black.

  ‘I know they sent you to spy on me,’ Imoshen said. ‘I know you owe your loyalty to the all-father, but even more to Ardeyne, your brother.’

  Frayvia gasped. Imoshen’s guess was correct.

  ‘Now, will you answer my questions truthfully?’

  ‘When I can. I took a vow to serve the all-father.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Imoshen sat on the bed under the window, so that she was in shadow, but she could see Frayvia’s face. ‘Why have they sent Reothe and not come themselves?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Why can I sense Reothe’s gift so much more strongly than I could sense the all-father’s and his seconds’? They have to be more powerful than him. He’s only an initiate. Is it because my gift has grown this last half year?’

  When she and Frayvia had not spoken of her gift, she’d gathered that it was a private thing, like the kisses Netaric and the cook had stolen when no one was looking.

  ‘If we speak of your gift, I must mention it in my report,’ Frayvia said at last.

  Imoshen shrugged. ‘If my gift did not rise, that would be remarkable.’

  ‘I’m guessing the growth of your gift has made you more sensitive to theirs. I can show you the mental walls we Malaunje build to retain our integrity. As for this Reothe, he may simply be young and powerful. The gift surges erratically, until the T’En learns to control it. I know this, because they warned me against you and your gift. I haven’t been accustomed to the male gift. They warned me that your gift could manifest powerfully and I had to get away from you if that happened.’

  ‘So this Reothe is just unskilled?’

  She nodded. ‘Or he may be trying to lure you. The male and female gifts are very different, yet they attract each other.’

  Imoshen nodded her understanding. This was why she was irrationally drawn to him, and now that she knew, she could work on developing her defences. ‘Thank you. I don’t want you to feel torn by conflicting loyalties. I know my father is only trying to protect me.’

  Frayvia hesitated, then nodded before disrobing and climbing into bed.

  Imoshen slipped in beside her. Now that she was forewarned, she could have a little fun with Reothe. It would serve him right.

  Now that she was forewarned, she wouldn’t mention how sometimes the world took a side-step and she saw things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t mention that sometimes she had nightmares where she was on her beloved island but it was subtly different. There were hungry beasts after her and even the sea was her enemy.

  No, she wouldn’t mention any of those things, particularly as the nightmares happened when she was awake.

  IMOSHEN WENT LOOKING for Reothe. During the three days he had been on the island, she had been testing him to see if he could keep up with her. She might not know much about the city, but she had read Sagora treatises and had no trouble following them. While she might surprise him, he was never left stranded.

  Now she had a message to give him for her father.

  She found Reothe wandering along the cliff edge. He was dressed for travel, reminding her that he went back to a world she had little knowledge of.

  Up here on the cliffs, the wind was fierce, masking her approach. A smile tugged at her lips as she came up behind him. ‘This is one of my favourite places.’

  He jumped and she caught his arm to steady him. Skin to skin, she felt his gift surge. It had been involuntary on his part, she was sure of that now.

  ‘Do you like the sea?’

  ‘I find it... fascinating. But threatening.’

  ‘Only a fool wouldn’t respect the sea. It doesn’t care for you or me. It could suck us under and kill us in a matter of moments.’

  Great waves rolled in from the west, expending their power on the jumble of rocks far below in magnificent fountains of spray. She studied Reothe as he watched the sea. He seemed more aloof than usual today. />
  ‘Dangerous and untamed,’ he said. ‘Yet this is your favourite place.’

  ‘One of my favourites.’

  ‘Which is your absolute favourite?’

  ‘Would you like to see it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Come on.’ She drew him down the cliff path, which was a challenge in itself, especially on windy days, to the huge jagged rocks that led like a giant’s stepping stones down to the sea.

  Jumping a gap that was as wide as she was tall, she landed on the flat-topped rock that was her favourite. He joined her.

  In front of them, the sea smashed into the rocks in a fury of foam and spray; a fine mist hung in the air.

  ‘This is my favourite place,’ Imoshen said. ‘Here, you know you’re alive. Every sixth or seventh wave is bigger than the rest. The trick is to recognise it before it hits.’

  A gleaming green-blue wave rolled towards them, shattering around the rocks below.

  Reothe’s gift surged and she rode his exhilaration.

  ‘You’re testing me, Imoshen.’

  She rolled her eyes.

  The next wave gleamed large, sullen and inevitable.

  ‘I can’t figure you out.’

  ‘Watch the sea, not me.’

  He glanced that way. Swore. And fled.

  They both jumped the gap and scrambled up the rocks just in time.

  White water boiled over where they’d been before, shooting up in a sheet of spray that drenched them both.

  As the sea retreated, Imoshen leapt to her feet, threw back her head and laughed.

  He grabbed her shoulders. ‘You’re mad. Absolutely mad.’

  She brushed his hands off, before her gift slipped out of her control. ‘If you can’t take it, don’t come back.’

  And she ran up the path, leaving him behind.

  SORNE COULDN’T CONCENTRATE on his studies. For three nights in a row, Kolst and Hiruna had argued. It always began softly and ended up with Kolst berating her for being selfish. The baby was better off with its own kind. Think of Zabier. And then the tears would start and the baby would scream. No one got any sleep.