Besieged (The Outcast Chronicles)

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  ‘One day, all of Chalcedonia will look up to us,’ Sorne said. ‘We will stand between the True-men and their gods.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘MAKE IMOSHEN A provisional-adept?’ Vittoryxe repeated. ‘She hasn’t even covered the basics of gift control, or gift hierarchy, or the theories behind gift power.She might be seventeen, but she’s not even an initiate, let alone a provisional-adept.’

  The all-mother glanced to her voice-of-reason, but it was Egrayne who spoke. ‘She executed Rohaayel and ten gift-warriors–’

  ‘How?’ Vittoryxe fumed. ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’

  Egrayne shrugged. ‘If Imoshen doesn’t have provisional-adept status, what does it say about us? None of us have been tested like this.’

  ‘If I give her provisional-adept status, what does it say about the twenty years of training everyone else goes through?’

  ‘We aren’t belittling the work you do training the lads for entry into the brotherhoods,’ the all-mother said. ‘Or the way you mentor our girl-children. But...’

  ‘But Imoshen has already proven she has the power and the control,’ Egrayne said.

  ‘She has no sense of history, and she doesn’t appreciate the power she has.’

  ‘Then teach her these things,’ the all-mother said. ‘That’s why we suggested provisional-adept status.’

  ‘After all, Vittoryxe,’ Egrayne said. ‘You don’t have to give her full adept status until she turns thirty-three and takes on adult duties in the sisterhood.’

  Vittoryxe could see the sisterhood’s inner circle was determined. If she had no choice, then she was going to pull Imoshen up on every little mistake. The brotherhood-raised sister was going to rue the day she tried to side-step the hierarchy and accepted the rise in status. Vittoryxe smiled. ‘So be it.’

  ‘Send her in,’ the all-mother told her devotee.

  Vittoryxe moved aside as Imoshen entered and made obeisance.

  Dropping gracefully to her knees, Imoshen sat on her heels. ‘You sent for me, all-mother.’

  ‘Gift-tutor Vittoryxe has something to say.’

  Imoshen looked up expectantly.

  ‘I have decided to accord you provisional-adept status.’

  Imoshen nodded. No surprise or delight, and no gratitude.

  Egrayne cleared her throat. ‘Imoshen, you have killed adepts on the empyrean plane. Only another adept can do that. We T’En train for twenty years to become adepts. We are according you a very great honour.’

  Colour raced up Imoshen’s throat and over her cheeks. She leant forward to put her hands on the floor and press her forehead to her hands. Then she lifted her head. ‘Forgive me. I don’t know your ways. Forgive me, gift-tutor, I’ll work very hard to be worthy of this honour.’

  ‘See that you do.’ Either Imoshen was a conniving schemer, who had her eye on the role of all-mother, or she really was completely unaware, but Vittoryxe did not believe that for a heartbeat.

  Imoshen was a real threat to Vittoryxe’s plans to become all-mother and, should the opportunity arise, causare.

  Certainly, Vittoryxe would train Imoshen, but she’d also test her. The girl was definitely powerful, but power was only a tool. Lack of knowledge was Imoshen’s weakness. It would be a simple thing for her to have an accident on the higher plane.

  It was sad, but it happened and, considering Imoshen’s lack of formal training, no one would be surprised.

  ‘WHAT DID THEY say?’ Frayvia asked, as soon as Imoshen returned to their chambers.

  Iraayel ran over to show her his puzzle then climbed into her lap as they all sat in the window seat. Outside, birds wheeled in the brilliant blue spring sky, circling one of the city’s white towers.

  ‘I’ve been given provisional-adept status.’

  ‘So why aren’t you happy?’

  ‘The gift-tutor is furious.’

  ‘You read her?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. Don’t worry, she didn’t notice.’

  Unaware of the undercurrents of their conversation, the four-year-old pulled the wooden horse apart and began slotting it back together.

  ‘It’s not surprising the gift-tutor is annoyed,’ Frayvia said. ‘You have no formal training.’

  ‘She’s also very determined.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t know.’

  ‘I did it.’ Iraayel held up the horse.

  ‘Well done.’ Imoshen hugged him. ‘My clever boy.’

  ‘You are a threat to the gift-tutor because you have no training. Vittoryxe is a teacher, and the trust between student and teacher is sacred.’ Frayvia smiled. ‘Work hard and show proper respect, and you’ll win her over.’

  ‘IT’S STILL DANGEROUS,’ Oskane said. He gestured to his private office. ‘Just because we are back in Port Mirror-on-Sea and I’m high priest of the Father’s church, it doesn’t mean we are safe.’

  ‘That’s why I don’t want to leave you,’ Franto insisted.

  ‘I won’t be alone. You’ve been training Zabier.’

  ‘He’s only just turned thirteen.’

  ‘He’s smart and loyal. Also I have Matxin. He’s my blood kin and equally determined to bring Nitzel down. You are going with Charald to advise Sorne. Your job is to keep him out of trouble. Don’t worry, Charald expects to be back by winter. Now send Matxin in.’

  As Franto left the high priest’s office, Oskane adjusted the folds of his formal robe. He had not seen his cousin’s son in seventeen years. Now Matxin was a middle-aged man of thirty-four, with children of his own.

  The baron strode in, still covered in the dust of the road. He gave a perfunctory bow and kissed Oskane’s ring.

  ‘So Sorna’s half-blood boy has the king dancing to his tune now,’ he said.

  ‘The Warrior speaks through him. Praise the Seven that I lived to see this.’

  Matxin cast him a swift look. ‘I see... But what of the Wyrds? Charald still owes them a fortune. If they were to call in the debt, they could beggar the kingdom, and leave us ripe for invasion.’

  ‘Then we’re lucky there’s been fighting in Cesspit City,’ Oskane said. It was three days by fast rider from the Wyrd city to the port. News of the fighting had arrived before the king’s party. ‘Did you hear? At least one of their palaces has burned. As long as they’re busy fighting amongst themselves–’

  ‘We’re safe. Yes, but your half-blood sent Charald to war against the one king who offered to help me take the throne. What was he thinking, Uncle?’

  ‘Sorne is the Warrior’s-voice. He was only repeating what the Warrior god told him.’

  ‘Of course... What of Nitzel? He murdered my sister and sent my father home with his tail between his legs. I’ve spent the last seventeen years keeping my head down, while Nitzel lined his pockets, placing his supporters and relatives in positions of power. I must see him brought low.’

  ‘And you shall. But–’

  ‘This summer is the perfect opportunity. While the king and his war barons are conquering Khitan, Nitzel will be alone with the prince – an old man and a boy of thirteen. I have supporters, men who are tired of Charald’s taxes and temper.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, and I’m sure they will come in useful. But first we must consolidate our hold on the church. Next to the king, it is the most powerful body in Chalcedonia. In a way, it is more powerful, because kings come and go, but the church lives on. I’ll win over the–’

  ‘Just how will you do that, Uncle? There are whispers in certain quarters. True-men and -women do not take kindly to half-bloods interfering with their gods, advising the king and claiming the title of Warrior’s-voice!’

  ‘Charald is taking Sorne with him. I’m sending Franto to make sure the half-blood causes no trouble.’

  ‘But there’s more, aren’t there? You brought a nest of Wyrds with you, and one of them claims to be the Father’s-voice. What if he gets cocky?’

  ‘I have his mother and s
ister to ensure his cooperation.’

  A grim smile split Matxin’s face. ‘That should do it. But I don’t think branding yourself as a Wyrd-lover is going to help our family’s cause.’

  Feeling battered, Oskane sat down. ‘This summer’s cusp, the Father’s-voice will make an offering to the gods. I’ve already invited the leaders of the other churches. Believe me, after this you will not doubt me, or the Seven, again.’

  ‘I see. What I don’t see is why we need the half-bloods.’

  ‘We...’ But he was too tired to explain. Oskane rang the bell. Zabier opened the door. ‘Where’s Franto?’

  The lad hesitated, and Oskane guessed Franto’s stomach was troubling him again.

  He gestured to Zabier. ‘Matxin, this is the other brother, born a True-man. He’ll take you to see the half-bloods. They’ll tell you how they contact the gods.’

  Matxin nodded and left with the lad.

  Oskane felt exhausted, lightheaded and short of breath. There was a dull nagging pain in his left arm. The pain eased and Oskane managed to catch his breath. Now that he was back in port, in a position of power, he hardly had the energy to enjoy it.

  ‘A GILDED CAGE.’ The chambers they had been given were more sumptuous than anything Sorne had ever seen. Leaded windows looked out across the rooftops to the port beyond. ‘That’s what this is, a gilded cage. And we’re prisoners.’

  Valendia whimpered. Hiruna picked her up and went through to the sleeping quarters. Meanwhile, Izteben stretched out on a padded chair by the fireplace.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Sorne stood over him. ‘You used to be the one who’d get all fired up.’

  ‘If you recall, I used to get fired up because Oskane was being unfair to you. Now you’re about to sail off with the king to lay waste to the unsuspecting innocents of Khitan.’

  Sorne had the grace to blush. ‘I had to send him somewhere, and if it hadn’t been Khitan it would be some other kingdom.’

  ‘So the secret is to tell people what they want to hear? Very wise. I’ll remember that, because I have to stay here and serve Oskane’s greater plan. Look around you. We’re living like kings. We’re half-bloods, Sorne. If we weren’t here, we’d be serving the Wyrds in the Celestial City.’

  The door opened, and they both turned to see Zabier enter with a well-dressed stranger. The man was travel-worn, and something about him was vaguely familiar.

  ‘This is Baron Matxin,’ Zabier said. ‘Scholar Osk... High Priest Oskane sent him, so you could explain how you speak to the gods.’

  Zabier introduced Sorne and Izteben, and they made their bows.

  Matxin took a seat by the fire. ‘Come here and sit down, so I can get a good look at you.’

  He gestured to the hearth in front of the fireplace, and they knelt like students before the teacher.

  ‘Between us, Oskane and I seek to restore our family fortunes,’ Matxin said. ‘Baron Nitzel is responsible for the murder of my sister, Queen Sorna.’

  ‘We know,’ Sorne said.

  ‘Did you know that after Prince Cedon, I am next in line to the throne?’

  Sorne nodded. ‘We know who you are, and what Scholar Oskane wants to do.’

  ‘Good,’ Matxin said. ‘Now Oskane has made the mistake of believing his own lies. He thinks you speak to the gods.’

  ‘But we do,’ Izteben protested, and Zabier nodded.

  Matxin’s sharp eyes noted Sorne’s lack of reaction.

  ‘And the visions, are they real?’ the baron asked. ‘Come now, you can tell me the truth.’

  ‘The visions are real,’ Zabier insisted.

  Izteben looked down.

  Sorne shrugged. ‘I saw the things I described, but whether they are visions from the gods...’

  ‘Just as I thought. This summer’s cusp, Oskane is going to have Izteben contact the gods in front of the church leaders to prove he’s speaking the truth. If this fails, we lose everything, and you will be–’

  ‘Sent to the Wyrds,’ Izteben said.

  Matxin shook his head. ‘Oh, no. Executed, at the very least. You dared to trick the True-men. They’ll be furious.’

  ‘We’re not tricking them,’ Sorne said. ‘We did contact beings of great power.’

  ‘They are the gods,’ Izteben insisted. ‘Whatever the she-Wyrd might have said.’

  Matxin’s sharp eyes fixed on Sorne. ‘What did the she-Wyrd say?’

  Sorne told him how, according to the Wyrds, there was a higher plane filled with predators that craved the T’En gift, and blood.

  ‘Blood?’ Matxin repeated.

  Sorne nodded. ‘Both times I bled. The first was an accident, the second was deliberate. This time I won’t be here, so Izteben will have to do it alone.’

  ‘I can help him,’ Zabier insisted.

  ‘I’m not worried,’ Izteben said. ‘As long as we are on a holy site at season’s cusp, I can contact the gods.’

  ‘But he must have something that’s imbued with gift residue,’ Sorne said. ‘Or...’

  ‘Or?’ Matxin prompted.

  ‘Or the gods will take me,’ Izteben said. ‘Once I call them, they must have their offering.’

  ‘I see.’ Matxin nodded. ‘That’s why, when True-men venture into unclean places, they disappear or lose their wits.’

  ‘Oskane said it was because the gods were too magnificent for them to gaze upon,’ Izteben said.

  Sorne sought Matxin’s eyes. The baron was under no illusions.

  Matxin came to his feet. ‘I see I don’t need to worry.’

  Sorne sprang up. ‘I sail with the king in a matter of days. Please, Uncle, look after my family.’

  Matxin looked down, and for a moment, Sorne thought he would refuse to acknowledge their relationship. But he nodded.

  After he left, Zabier paused at the door. ‘This evening, I’m going down into the crypts again. It’s amazing, the tunnels go on forever. Do you want to come?’

  Sorne grinned. ‘I’ve had enough of dark tunnels to last me a lifetime.’

  Zabier laughed and left.

  ‘See,’ Izteben said. ‘We do have supporters. Once I’ve proven we can contact the gods, we’ll be safe.’

  Sorne let out a sigh of relief. ‘And I’ll be back by winter.’

  Five days later, Sorne packed his travelling bag and said his goodbyes to Hiruna and Valendia.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he told them, seeing their tears. ‘King Charald is certain he’ll have Khitan conquered by winter.’

  ‘I wish I was going with you,’ Izteben said. ‘You get to sail across the Secluded Sea and ride with King Charald’s army.’

  Sorne had to admit the idea was appealing. ‘By the time I get back, you’ll have impressed the church officials, and will be well on your way to winning the respect of True-men for half-bloods.’

  ‘I hope to,’ Izteben said. ‘Meanwhile, you’ll win the respect of the king and his barons for the half-bloods.’

  They both grinned.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  VITTORYXE LEANED AGAINST the door jamb, pleased with the way her students were attending to their studies. Not one head rose from the long tables under the windows. She prided herself on keeping a tight rein in the training chamber. It used to annoy her, the way the last gift-tutor permitted nonsense and play.

  Gift power was dangerous, not something to be treated lightly.

  Seeing Imoshen leave her seat and wander through the tall shelves of scrolls and books irritated Vittoryxe. Surely the girl couldn’t have finished the set texts already?

  One season had passed, and it would be summer’s cusp in a few days. Vittoryxe had to admit, Imoshen worked hard. But what was she up to now?

  Threading her way through the shelves, she came up behind Imoshen who was reaching for a book. ‘Don’t waste your time with The Theories of Scytheon, Imoshen. He’s been discredited.’

  ‘Then why is his book here?’

  Why did she have to question everything? ‘Did
you finish the texts I set you?’

  Imoshen nodded. ‘That’s what made me look up Scytheon.’

  ‘He wasn’t mentioned.’

  ‘No, but his student Edune was, so I read about him and that made me look up Scytheon.’

  ‘You can’t have read the works of Edune. At least, you can’t possibly have taken them all in.’

  Imoshen looked away.

  Vittoryxe expelled her breath in a huff of annoyance. ‘Come with me.’

  She led Imoshen into her private chamber and gestured for her to kneel on the carpet in front of the empty fireplace. If Imoshen was reading Edune, then she was dabbling in adept-level theory, which would provide a plausible explanation for her over-reaching herself and getting into trouble. But first, Vittoryxe needed to test the limits of Imoshen’s knowledge. ‘Do you have any questions?’

  ‘Well...’ She folded her hands in her lap and paused to collect her thoughts. ‘If each T’En only has one gift, then how could Egrayne have been a gift-warrior, when she is now the empowerer?’

  ‘A gift-warrior is able to perceive power on this plane and manipulate it on the higher plane. A near-death experience on the higher plane triggered the further development of Egrayne’s original gift. An empowerer perceives the different types of power nascent within the young T’En. Opening the child to his or her power is a form of power manipulation. You see, it is another step up the ladder.’ A very big step.

  Imoshen nodded. ‘So I couldn’t be both a gift-warrior and a raedan?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Imoshen nodded. ‘The common male gift is mind manipulation. And females can’t have this gift, because it is rare for male and female gifts to overlap?’

  ‘It almost never happens. If they do share a common gift, the gift is expressed differently. For instance, in females the gift of seeing the future appears in a scryer, who can search for specific events. In males, the gift of seeing the future appears in a seer, who has visions that he can’t direct.’ Vittoryxe gestured. ‘Now, prove you understand Edune’s theories. Tell me what he said in your own words.’