Besieged (The Outcast Chronicles)

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  Like now.

  There she sat under the awning between the two sisterhood leaders. If Imoshen hadn’t been a raedan, they would not bother to cultivate her. If she hadn’t been so powerful, they wouldn’t bother to groom her for leadership. If she hadn’t had a choice-son around the same age as Healer Reoden’s two children, she wouldn’t be sitting there with them right now. The healer said something. All-mother Aayelora laughed, but Imoshen hardly smiled.

  Did she even know what an honour it was for her choice-son to associate with the healer’s daughter? Lyronyxe was a sacrare, born of two pure T’En parents. Sacrares were rare. They were hard to carry and birth. More often than not, they were stillborn. They were heir to great gifts, a boon to their sisterhood.

  Lyronyxe was the reason the healer had won the leadership of her sisterhood at such a young age. And it was only Reoden’s healing gift that allowed her to produce a healthy sacrare.

  Vittoryxe was so angry she had trouble controlling her gift. Power prickled across her skin. All around her the half-bloods worked, tending the flowerbeds and clipping topiary trees. Their copper hair shone in the sun as they studiously ignored her.

  ‘Choice-mother?’

  Vittoryxe looked down on her own choice-son. Why had the inner circle saddled her with another boy child?

  ‘May I go play with the other children?’

  It was on the top of her tongue to refuse Bedutz, but if Imoshen’s child could play with a sacrare, then so could he. ‘Yes. Go on.’

  He ran off happily.

  The two all-mothers waved, beckoning Vittoryxe. So as not to appear too eager, she turned to her devotee and pretended to inspect her latest acquisition – a bird, with fine tail feathers. She hoped this trait would breed true. ‘Take him to the aviary and place him in the cage next to the others, so they can get used to him.’

  Choris nodded and took the bird away.

  Only then did Vittoryxe wander over and join the T’En females under the awning.

  As she crossed the rooftop garden, the children ran past her, playing hide and seek amongst the flowering pots and citrus trees. Iraayel brushed against a cumquat tree, scattering fruit in his wake.

  ‘Watch where you’re going!’ Vittoryxe snapped. ‘Honestly...’

  ‘Vittoryxe.’ Reoden smiled. ‘I was just telling Imoshen, her lack of energy doesn’t arise from a physical illness, but an injury to her gift.’

  ‘It’s nothing. Don’t trouble yourself,’ Imoshen said quickly.

  She was pretending to be humble, but for some reason, only Vittoryxe could see this. ‘Of course Imoshen’s gift is injured. She made the deep-bonding with a male who was then murdered. It’s a wonder she didn’t die with him. The loss of her sacrare son will have damaged her power, too.’

  ‘Have you heard about the new king of the True-men?’ Reoden asked.

  ‘What new king?’ All-mother Aayelora sat up.

  ‘It’s a terrible thing,’ Reoden said. ‘The old king sailed away to make war and, the moment his back was turned, his cousin murdered his heir and claimed the throne. The new king shut the murdered boy’s mother up in an abbey dedicated to their goddess, the Mother.’

  ‘Vittoryxe, why didn’t I hear of this?’ Aayelora asked.

  ‘Mieren squabbles are no concern of ours. And King Matxin didn’t murder his cousin’s son,’ Vittoryxe said. She savoured the chance to prove that she was better informed. ‘King Matxin says the gods killed the boy. Apparently, they decided to hold one of their barbaric rituals in a place we had clearly marked as being dangerous, and there was a breach between the planes. The boy was taken.’

  ‘How awful,’ Imoshen said. ‘The Mieren have no protection from empyrean predators. Why would they–’

  ‘Because they’re arrogant, and think they know better,’ Vittoryxe snapped.

  Imoshen blushed.

  One of the children wailed and Imoshen jumped to her feet to check on them.

  ‘That’s what Malaunje are for,’ Vittoryxe called after her, but she didn’t seem to hear her. With a shrug, Vittoryxe glanced to the two all-mothers. ‘She has no decorum. Have you seen the way she treats her devotee? No concept of the proper distance between T’En and Malaunje.’

  ‘I’m surprised that nobody informed me about the new king,’ Aayelora said.

  ‘Personally, I don’t care how many of the Mieren kill each other off, as long as they leave us alone.’ Vittoryxe said. ‘In fact, the more the Mieren fight amongst themselves the better.’

  She spotted Imoshen weaving through the potted plants with three children clustered around her while she carried the fourth child, who sobbed in her arms.

  ‘Mama, come see.’ Lyronyxe beckoned the healer.

  Imoshen entered the shadow of the awning and sat down with the child on her lap, turning him around. It was Bedutz.

  ‘He fell and cut his knee on the edge of a pot,’ Imoshen said.

  ‘Here, let me...’ Reoden knelt at Imoshen’s feet.

  ‘No.’ Vittoryxe was determined not to let Imoshen interfere with how she raised her choice-son. ‘He fell because he was being careless. He must suffer or he won’t be careful next time. Bedutz, come to me.’

  He slid off Imoshen’s lap and went to her, trying to hold back his tears. Vittoryxe took his hand and stalked off.

  She’d only gone a few steps when she turned back. ‘If you ask me, all-mother, it’s not the Mieren we need to worry about. It’s the brotherhoods. Imoshen executed one of their all-fathers and survived an ambush by their hands-of-force. The men fear her, and what they fear, they seek to destroy.’

  ‘You could just as easily argue that they respect strength,’ Egrayne said, coming up behind her.

  ‘Safi!’ Iraayel darted past Vittoryxe to hug Egrayne’s choice-daughter. Like Lyronyxe, she was a little older than the others and always leading them into trouble. Sure enough, the sacrare and Reoden’s choice-son ran over to join them. The children huddled together, whispering and giggling, before breaking apart and running off. The garden rang with their laughter.

  Vittoryxe felt Bedutz tug on her hand, his injury forgotten. She kept a tight hold on him.

  ‘The good news is that the brotherhoods are feuding,’ Egrayne said. ‘All-father Chariode won the assets and survivors of the disgraced brotherhood, beating off three of the other all-fathers. There’s been two assassinations since spring that I know of.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Imoshen said.

  ‘No, it’s good,’ Vittoryxe corrected. ‘There will be retaliations. As long as the men are fighting amongst themselves, they aren’t plotting another brotherhood uprising.’

  Imoshen went pale. ‘There was an uprising?’

  Vittoryxe smiled. The more Imoshen opened her mouth, the more she revealed her ignorance of the sisterhood’s proud history.

  Surely the others must realise she wasn’t suitable to be all-mother. It wasn’t enough just to be a raedan.

  Vittoryxe had been busy, planting seeds of doubt in the minds of all the mid- to high-ranking sisters, while shoring up support for her own claim to the position. One day Vittoryxe would be all-mother, which meant if their people ever needed a causare to unite the T’Enatuath, she would be in the running. Then it would be a matter of making sure the vote went her way.

  ‘Instead of wasting your time reading Sagora treatises, Imoshen, you should study the T’Enatuath’s history.’ Satisfied that she had made her point, Vittoryxe left.

  And the very next day, she found Imoshen near the aviary, reading a treatise on the origin of the T’Enatuath.

  ‘That’s just an educated guess. No one really knows where we came from,’ Vittoryxe told her.

  ‘I thought I should start from the beginning and work my way through. I need to understand why we have brotherhoods and sisterhoods.’

  ‘Because it’s the only safe way for adult T’En to live,’ Vittoryxe said as she inspected the plumage of one of her birds.

  ‘This is your new one?�
�� Imoshen came over. ‘He’s very beautiful.’

  Vittoryxe was not entirely comfortable having Imoshen this close to her prized birds.

  ‘How do you know their traits will breed true?’

  ‘Some do, some don’t.’

  ‘You must have been doing this a long time.’

  ‘Since I came here,’ Vittoryxe said. ‘It was right after I saw my choice-mother murdered by a brotherhood warrior. The sisters thought it best if I had a complete change, so they sent me to the city. My new choice-mother gave me a pair of nightingales. I’ve been breeding birds ever since.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up painful memories.’

  ‘I feel nothing,’ Vittoryxe said, determined to make it true.

  Imoshen sighed. Vittoryxe wished she would go away.

  ‘I’d like to help,’ Imoshen offered.

  Vittoryxe hesitated. She wanted someone to admire the birds and her knowledge of them, but she did not want to share something this precious with Imoshen.

  ‘I’m fascinated by how the traits come down through the generations.’

  Vittoryxe sniffed. ‘Very well.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Year 316

  ‘COME WITH US.’

  Imoshen looked up to see Arodyti and Sarosune in their finery, eyes and lips painted, silks parting to reveal glimpses of pale skin, jewelled sandals flashing as they swept into her chamber. She could feel the overflow of their gifts from here.

  ‘Is it that time of year again?’ Imoshen teased.

  ‘You’ve never been and you promised us last time.’

  Imoshen gestured to her bird breeding chart. ‘I’m working.’

  Moving in a cloud of subtle scent, enhanced by her gift, Sarosune came over to see what she was doing. ‘Oh... Vittoryxe and her birds. She works you too hard.’

  Imoshen looked down. Vittoryxe wasn’t to blame, although she would give the gift-tutor a copy of the charts. She’d created the charts for the Sagoras and was waiting to hear back from them as to whether her theories on inherited traits matched up with theirs. Venerable Felesoi had been most interested.

  ‘Reading about a festival and taking part in it are two different things.’ Arodyti rested her elbows on the desk. Imoshen’s gaze slid to the dip of her breasts, a delicate curving shadow. ‘You’ve never attended a spring cusp brotherhood display. You can help us pick our trysting partners for midsummer.’

  Imoshen felt her face grow hot.

  Arodyti laughed and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re priceless.’

  Imoshen shrugged. ‘It’s just... it doesn’t seem decent, inspecting the men like wares in a shop.’

  ‘If we don’t go watch the displays, how will we know which ones we want?’ Sarosune countered. She wrinkled her nose. ‘We don’t want the all-mother wasting her time negotiating a tryst for us, only to discover we don’t fancy the man she picks.’

  Imoshen laughed, put the chart away and came to her feet. ‘I’ll just tell my devotee.’

  ‘And wear something nice,’ Sarosune called as she walked out.

  ‘The men will be looking at us, too.’ Arodyti said. ‘They give their all-father a list and the all-mother compares it to our list.’ She laughed at Imoshen’s expression. ‘Each person’s stature and the nature of his or her gift must be taken into account.’

  After eight years in the city, Imoshen had come to understand the workings of the sisterhood. Egrayne formed the link between the elders of the inner circle and the next generation. Of the younger sisters, Arodyti and Sarosune were her closest friends

  She and the healer Reoden had fashioned a friendship that was too important to Imoshen to jeopardise. And she’d even overcome Vittoryxe’s hostility.

  In her private chamber, Imoshen found Frayvia playing cards with Iraayel. He would turn thirteen this winter’s cusp, and then he would move his bedroll in with the rest of the lads training to take their place in the brotherhoods. She didn’t want to send him to live with the lads; didn’t want to send him to Chariode’s brotherhood, when he turned seventeen. The day they’d arrived in the city, it had all seemed so far away. Now...

  ‘I claim the sisterhood,’ Iraayel announced, placing his cards in a line one by one. ‘I have the all-mother, voice-of-reason, hand-of-force, an empowerer and even a wildcard raedan!’

  ‘That beats me.’ Frayvia put her cards down. ‘All I have is a pair of shield-sisters, the gift-tutor and three gift-warriors.’

  Summoning a smile, Imoshen interrupted. ‘I’m going out for a little while, down to the free quarter with Arodyti and Sarosune.’

  ‘Can I come?’ Iraayel put his cards down. ‘I’m tired of being shut in the palace.’

  ‘We’ll all go to the empowerment celebration tomorrow,’ Imoshen said.

  ‘That’s right, Lyronyxe is being empowered. I wonder what her gift will be. Sardeon told her she’d be a wind-wender, because she’s full of hot air.’

  Frayvia rolled her eyes. ‘Brothers.’

  Imoshen planted a kiss on her devotee’s forehead and tugged affectionately on Iraayel’s plait, which had grown past his knees. When he left the sisterhood she would have to cut it, to symbolise that he was dead to her.

  Anguish, sharp and savage, made her gift surge.

  Frayvia felt it. ‘Imoshen?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She slipped out to rejoin the shield-sisters.

  ‘You took so long I thought you’d changed your mind and put on something silky,’ Sarosune teased. ‘But here you are, still in the same boring clothes... the absent-minded scholar.’

  ‘At least wear your raedan torc,’ Arodyti urged.

  ‘I’m not sure where my torc is.’

  ‘Oh, Imoshen.’ Sarosune rolled her eyes. ‘You’re hopeless.’

  ‘She doesn’t care about stature, Saro.’ Arodyti shook her head and threaded her arm through Imoshen’s. ‘Sometimes, you say the most shocking things.’

  ‘You love it.’

  Arodyti laughed. ‘Yes, I do, and that’s why I will never be welcomed into the inner circle.’

  ‘No serious talk today. I forbid it.’ Sarosune took Imoshen’s other arm. ‘Come on.’

  As they left the sisterhood quarter, they were surrounded by T’En women, laughing and talking. It was the last day of spring and the air was warm with the promise of summer. The vivid colours of the sisters’ silks and satins contrasted brightly with the city’s white stones. The boulevard stretched out before them, all the way to causeway gate, which was closed today. No Mieren were allowed in for the next two days.

  Up ahead, Imoshen could hear the deep voices of the men, and the sounds of drums and pipes made her heart race.

  Sarosune shivered with excitement. ‘You should see them dance!’

  In the park, each of the brotherhoods had staked out an area for themselves. Some played music, some performed poetry, others danced or practised their balance and combat exercises.

  The impact of so many T’En men with their gifts barely contained was overpowering. Imoshen opened her gift awareness and saw that while there was some aggression in the air, the men were mainly focusing their gifts on bravado and display, honed with the keen edge of desire.

  ‘There’s so many of them. And they’re all so... hungry.’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t it wonderful!’ Sarosune spun happily on her toes. Her trousers swirled out provocatively, revealing the curve of her calves.

  Several brothers responded by inviting her to hear them sing, or watch them dance. Imoshen tensed.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Arodyti squeezed Imoshen’s arm, while Sarosune darted on ahead. ‘They won’t touch us without our permission. They wouldn’t dare.’

  Gradually, Imoshen became entranced by the displays. Some of the men wore elaborate costumes. Their faces painted and their long hair dressed with jewels, they gestured elegantly as they recited poetry. Their words conjured up tragic pasts and brilliant futures. Others wore only breeches, their hair bound in the warrior’
s braid as they practised their balance and strength exercises, moving into the long-knife patterns, blades flashing. Their athleticism and daring took Imoshen’s breath away.

  ‘See!’ Sarosune breathed. They’d paused to watch two shield-brothers. ‘Live blades.’

  ‘Live blades?’ Imoshen asked.

  ‘Not blunt practice blades.’

  ‘Oh... Such precision and trust,’ Imoshen said. This close to Sarosune and Arodyti, she could feel the shield-sisters’ gifts riding their excitement.

  The men responded with teasing and bantering. They offered glimpses of their gifts, laden with promise. Imoshen smiled. She hadn’t let down her guard and played like this since Lighthouse Isle and Reothe. The pain of the memory made everything sharp and bright.

  A group of women, beautiful as birds, swept past, their high sweet voices carrying over the din.

  ‘...Rutz’s new play is about to start,’ one said. ‘I swear he is the greatest living playwright.’

  ‘Come on.’ Arodyti urged. ‘We can’t miss this.’

  ‘Will Rutz be there?’ Imoshen asked. She’d seen two of his plays in a free quarter theatre.

  ‘Probably, not that we’ll know. Rutz is not his real name.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he use his real name? Doesn’t he want stature?’

  ‘They say his plays are so good he’s more than a word-smith,’ Arodyti said, eyes sparkling. ‘They say he is able to imbue spoken words with the power to sway people. With a gift like that, he could win himself a brotherhood, maybe even enslave the other all-fathers. If his identity got out, it could cost him his life.’

  ‘Hush, it’s starting.’

  As Imoshen sat on the grass with Arodyti and Sarosune, she hugged her knees and studied the audience’s reaction to the play. It was about the handing over of a T’En baby, born of a Malaunje mother. The man playing the mother did a brilliant job. The audience laughed, but Imoshen found it difficult to join in. Didn’t they realise the play was a tragedy?

  She looked away from the stage, and noticed a commotion at the edge of the park. The crowd parted to let a group of brothers through; shouts and laughter followed them.