by Spurrier, Jo
‘Only you could have pulled this off, Issey,’ Cam said. ‘I just wish our father was alive to hear of it.’ His voice thickened with emotion as he clapped his hand on Isidro’s shoulder. ‘It’s so good to have you back.’
Isidro and Sierra headed for the installation a short time later. All through the tent village the freed slaves were stirring from their furs to pick through the ruins, but they turned to watch Sierra as she passed. Some of them smiled and saluted her, but others looked away, and Isidro heard someone spit in disgust. He turned to search out the source of the sound, but Sierra laid a hand on his arm. ‘Never mind them,’ she said. ‘Some folk think I should have freed them all weeks ago. I don’t blame them for being angry.’
As they neared the cascade, Sierra shyly took his hand. She seemed quiet and subdued, not at all like the woman he remembered, full of fire and restless energy. But perhaps this was the real her? She’d been on a knife-edge of anxiety when they met, frantic with the thought that Rasten was days behind her. Isidro was acutely aware that he barely knew this woman he’d pinned all his hopes on — they’d spent only a few short weeks together before circumstances had forced them apart.
As their hands parted at the foot of the cascade, Isidro absently touched the scar on his neck. Sierra was the reason he was still alive — he’d focussed all his will on giving her what she needed to save herself, trusting she’d save the rest of them as well.
What must she be thinking of all this? He knew she never expected her freedom to last so long. The first time she’d pulled him into her furs, she’d thought she’d be back in Kell’s hands within a few days. Everything after that had been a desperate scramble to stay ahead of those hunting her, be it Rasten, Kell or the Wolf Clan. This was the first time they’d had a little breathing-space, but even now the pressure was mounting.
The two dead sentries still lay in the passage, and Isidro made a mental note to have them removed. As they stepped over the stiffened bodies, the lights awoke to a soft glow.
The best course was patience, Isidro decided. Only time would tell if they could regain what they’d once had.
Then Sierra caught his sleeve, pulling him to a stop. ‘Issey, I …’ she began, and then faltered.
He wanted to touch her. He wanted to stroke her hair, to press her body against his, to breathe in her scent and feel her warmth.
She glanced up, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking away. ‘Issey, I’m sorry I couldn’t get word to you when I was in the camp. And I feel absolutely wretched for making you work with Rasten. I swear, if there had been any other way —’
‘Sirri,’ he said, ‘don’t worry about that now. We’re all together again, and we have the Spire. That’s all that matters.’
She pressed her lips together, and her steel-blue eyes were still unhappy. Isidro sighed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘do you blame me for cooperating with the Slavers?’
‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘We wouldn’t be here now otherwise.’
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Given where it’s got us, having to deal with Rasten was a price worth paying.’
Her hand was still on his arm; he felt power humming beneath her skin and saw in her eyes the flash and flicker of a distant storm.
Then Isidro could resist no longer. He curled his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her, burying his fingers in her thick, dark hair. She slipped her hands beneath his coat, hesitant at first, but when she discovered strength and muscle beneath her palms, instead of staring ribs and healing scars her hunger grew more demanding. Her power rose, and where their bodies touched it flowed through him like a golden, singing breeze.
He’d imagined this moment a thousand times, and this wasn’t how he’d intended it to happen. But when he tried to pull away, to suggest they might be more comfortable elsewhere, she refused to release him from her encircling arms.
‘Sirri —’
‘No! I want you now!’
He laughed at that, because this was the Sirri he remembered.
With his right arm still in a sling, he shrugged himself free of his coat and let the fur fall to a puddle at his feet while Sierra cast off her clothes. Isidro lifted her up with one arm around her waist, and although it was not as smooth or controlled as he would have liked, she didn’t seem to care. When he pressed against the stone at her back it was warm and humming with power.
She wrapped her legs around him with a moan that sent a ripple of energy flowing over her skin. Encased in her power, in her warmth and her scent, Isidro let sensation sweep over him and carry the world away.
Once they were sated neither wanted anything but to rest for a moment, so with bundled furs to cushion the stone, they sprawled across the narrow passage with the wall at their backs. Sierra held Isidro’s hand between her delicate palms, measuring the spread of her fingers against his. ‘Issey? What if I can’t learn this stuff?’
‘You will,’ he said. ‘Besides, we have Delphine, and for all her faults, she’s truly brilliant.’
‘But she won’t help us willingly.’
‘Well … we both know it’s possible to make someone cooperate,’ Isidro said. ‘I won’t have her beaten and starved, but I know how Kell treated you … Isolation and deprivation may take a little longer, but we’ll wear her down in the end.’
She shivered and huddled closer to him. ‘There’s one thing we have to remember. You and I were made to cooperate, true, but we turned on our captors the first chance we had.’
‘So we did,’ he said. ‘And Delphine strikes me as the sort to hold a grudge. We’ll have to watch her like hawks …’ He’d done what he had to do, but still he felt torn. He admired and respected Delphine, and he was not looking forward to what it would take to break down her resistance.
‘I wish I could stay here all day,’ Sierra said. ‘But we have work to do.’ She reached for her clothes, and with a rueful shake of his head Isidro did the same.
As Sierra bent to recover her boots, she winced and pressed a hand to her belly. A moment later, she staggered, scrabbling for a grip on the smooth wall as she gasped and doubled over in pain.
‘Sirri?’ Isidro said as he hurried to steady her. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Ah, by the Black Sun …’ She glanced up at his face and shook her head. ‘It’s not me. I’m finally learning to tell when it’s just an echo of someone else’s pain. Give me a moment, it’ll pass …’
‘An echo?’ he said, feeling stupid.
‘From one of the freed slaves, I think,’ Sierra said. She sat and hugged her knees to her belly and grimaced.
From the entrance of the passage, Isidro heard someone splashing through water and scrambling over the stones. ‘Isidro?’ a light voice called. ‘Sierra? Are you there?’
He almost called her Lucia, but corrected himself at the last moment. ‘Amaya? In here.’
She peered around the doorway and then hurried towards them, wet boots skidding on the polished stone. After her duties for the mages, Amaya didn’t so much as blink at the unnatural surroundings. ‘Rhia sent me to ask you to come at once,’ she said to Sierra. ‘One of the women is ill. Rhia thinks she’s having a miscarriage, and she is afraid it will be very bad.’
‘I think she’s right,’ Sierra said. ‘I’d best go, even if all I can do is take the pain.’
‘Well, I want to talk to Delphine anyway,’ Isidro said. ‘I’ll get the warding-stones on her, but I’ll leave her in the dampening chamber until you’re free to attend. After that, I’ll set aside those books for you.’
She made a face at that, but nodded as he helped her to her feet. ‘Amaya, you might have to help her down the cascade.’
As Amaya led Sierra away, Isidro watched them go with a sigh. He’d dreamt of having her in his arms again for so long, and it was over in just a few moments … He would have to get used to it, he supposed. She was pivotal now, and there would be many demands on her time.
He went through to Nirveli’s chamber, and paused th
ere for a moment to study the featureless wall. In the excitement of the battle he’d had no time to think about the puzzle of the woman trapped within the stone. It seemed so unreal that he’d have sworn he’d dreamt it if Sierra and Delphine hadn’t witnessed the wonder alongside him. It was yet another thing that demanded attention, but for the moment seeing to Delphine was more pressing. Isidro watched the wall as he crossed the chamber, but there wasn’t even a flicker of light to stay him.
He slowed as he descended the spiral stairs. He’d been in too much of a hurry before to take in the wonder that Vasant had built. Now, without the battle to distract him, he could consider the puzzle more thoroughly.
The level below was laid out much like a barracks, with a broad central corridor and a number of chambers opening off each side. The air seemed fresh, not stale, and combined with the warmth held by the peculiar structure, this gave the rooms the odd feeling of having been recently inhabited, as though those who’d built it had left only moments before. There was no concrete sign of its previous occupants, however. The place had been swept and polished so clean that there wasn’t so much as a fingerprint on the shining stone.
He ventured into the nearest chamber, and found the sleeping-platforms built into the walls padded with mattresses of quilted cloth and wool, with a few blankets neatly folded at the foot of each one. He edged one mattress away from the wall, but the gap had been swept perfectly clean. Those who had lived here had taken care to remove every last trace of themselves before they had gone to their deaths.
Curiosity drove him to explore a little further. The corridor down another level held still more wonders: a sunken chamber that was every bit as cold as the tunnels that had brought them here — cold storage, he guessed. There was a bathing chamber with a hot pool sunk into the floor, and a furnace that burned with a heat fiercer than any forge produced.
There were other chambers down there, presumably with functions of their own, but he could not identify them at a glance and decided he had spent enough time indulging himself. He made his way back up to the level above.
In the stairwell, Isidro paused. Some instinct insisted he was not alone, but after listening carefully he put it down to the eeriness of the Spire. There were no rats or mice down here, not even moths to burrow into the woollen mattresses. It was perfectly sterile and wholly unnatural — wasn’t that reason enough to make the hairs rise on one’s neck? And in any case, if he had heard a noise, it was probably Delphine stirring behind her barred door.
Isidro felt for the warding-stones tucked into his sash, unable to decide if he was looking forward to this moment or dreading it. Part of him relished the idea of turning the tables on the woman who had ruled his life for the last few months, but another part shuddered at the thought of forcing her to cooperate. Delphine no more deserved such treatment than he had, but there was no helping it. She had been in the right place at the right time and she would have to live with the consequences, just as he had.
Drawing one last breath to steady himself, Isidro unbarred the door and pushed it open.
He heard Delphine gasp, but he couldn’t see her in the pitch blackness of the chamber. Isidro set his lantern-stone glowing, then stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. The stone did not so much as flicker as he stepped across the threshold, but that feeling of suffocation closed around him at once.
Delphine was huddled in a corner with her back to the wall. She flinched away from the light, squinting against the glow. After hours in utter darkness, it must have glared like the sun.
‘Who’s there?’ she said, trying to sound tough, but Isidro heard a tremor of fear in her voice. She was fighting to look at him, blinking fiercely through watering eyes in a way that reminded him of Sierra fighting snow-blindness when Cam brought her to their camp.
‘Who is it?’ she asked again. ‘Aleksar? Is that you?’
That last was said with a note of relief. She still trusted him, Isidro realised. If she had no memory of his attack the day before, he could use it to his advantage. If Delphine knew he’d betrayed her she would fight him tooth and nail, and while he was not the trembling wreck she had nursed back to health, he was no longer a warrior, either — and she knew all his weaknesses.
‘It’s me, madame,’ he said in Akharian, and Delphine sobbed with relief.
‘What’s happened? Are my girls alright?’
‘They’re fine, madame. I can get you out of here. Just let me get to your hands …’
She shuffled around at once to face the wall and Isidro pulled out one of the bracelets. Delphine had been working on the bonds — she had managed to untie the strips around her feet, but her hands were still bound.
Isidro pulled the bracelet over his fingers, took hold of Delphine’s small hand and slipped it around her wrist. Delphine went stiff against him, but before she had time to react he’d caught the ends of the cords and pulled them tight.
‘What are you doing?’ Delphine demanded. ‘What is going on here? Aleksar, tell me at once!’
‘Hold still,’ he told her. ‘This will only take a moment.’
He felt the very moment her trust shattered, but at that point there was little she could do. She tried to kick and squirm away from him, but he pressed a knee across her legs and leant his shoulder into her back to pin her against the wall. Once both bracelets were in place he checked they were pulled tight; they fit so closely one couldn’t even wedge a bit of cloth between the stones and her fine dark skin.
When it was done he stepped away, and Delphine furiously wrenched and jerked against the bonds, shuffling around to face him. ‘You beast! You ungrateful wretch! I should have left you with Torren! I should never …’ Tears of rage spilled over her cheeks.
Isidro crouched down so that they were eye to eye. ‘If you cooperate, I promise you won’t be harmed.’
Delphine drew herself up to reply, but before she could speak Isidro heard a noise in the hall outside — the scuff of boots on stone, and a low voice, quite unintelligible through the stout wooden door.
His immediate thought was Sierra, and he called out to her without thinking. ‘Sirri? We’re in here.’
Delphine narrowed her eyes.
There was no reply from the hall, and Isidro felt himself go still. Sierra would have called back in reply, but the people outside went quiet at once. He tried to reach for her, but of course that was impossible in the dampening chamber — all he found was a numb blank spot in that corner of his mind.
He went to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. He could make out male voices, but the words themselves were lost.
In the corner Delphine pushed herself up, using the wall for support. Isidro kept one eye on her as he listened. Were they arguing? Discussing? Whatever the topic of conversation, it appeared to be settled, because the voices fell silent.
Delphine drew a shaking breath. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘Who’s out there?’
‘Hush,’ Isidro commanded her, and then realised at once that was a mistake.
Delphine threw her head back and screamed. ‘Help! I’m in here, help!’
Isidro crossed the room in one stride and grabbed her, shaking her into silence as he dragged her back to the door. He reached it just as someone outside tried to shove it open. He slammed it shut with his shoulder, hauling Delphine against him as he leant against it, adding her weight to his as the men outside pounded on the wood. ‘Open up, in the name of the general!’ someone shouted in rough Akharian.
Someone was playing a very dangerous game, Isidro realised.
He should have guessed how Delphine would react — it was a reasonable presumption that any enemy of his was a friend of hers. She couldn’t know how thoroughly the Akharians had been defeated.
Delphine looked up at him with dark brown eyes full of rage and fury, and drove her elbow into his injured right arm, aiming between the splints and stones and the leather straps that bound them all in place.
His arm e
xploded in agony, a pain so intense it made lights flash across his eyes. Isidro heard himself let out a low, guttural cry of pain and his grip went lax as he slumped to the floor.
Feeling the resistance fall away, the men shoved through. Delphine wrenched free of his hand and darted around the door, only to scream again when she realised they weren’t Akharians coming to help her. Isidro caught a brief glimpse of their faces before they dragged her out of sight. Filthy and unkempt, with sunken, hollow cheeks, they were some of the slaves freed the day before.
As the two men dragged Delphine away, a third peered owlishly down at Isidro and then tried to shut the door.
Some dry and unemotional part of Isidro’s mind considered the situation. Well, at least we’ll know if the restraints will hold.
If he was locked in, he would be as helpless as Delphine, unable to do a thing while they took their revenge on one of the few Akharians that was vulnerable and in their reach.
Isidro grabbed the edge of the door. While the other man had the advantage of two good hands, Isidro was heavier and stronger. He wedged himself between the door and the jamb, defending his head and his wounded arm with his good hand while the other fellow tried to kick him away. Once Isidro got his legs around, he swept the man’s feet out from underneath him and dropped him to the floor with a thud.
One of the other two men had Delphine pinned face down on the floor; he was sitting on her back while his companion tore at her clothes.
Without thinking Isidro turned on them with a roar. He seized the nearest man by the collar and hauled him off her, sending him skidding across the polished floor.
Then Sierra made contact, filling his vision with confusion. Another scene overlaid the hall: a tent full of bustling women, and Rhia issuing a rapid stream of orders. On the floor, Torren’s slave-girl contorted, shrieking as she clutched her swollen belly.
Issey! You’re hurt! What’s going on?