by Spurrier, Jo
Sierra, what’s going on? Rasten asked inside her head. Confused, she didn’t reply. Her feet throbbed and burned, but the accompanying rush of power told her that it was an echo. Usually the initial sensation faded with the energy, but not this time, and the source of the echo seemed to be directly overhead.
Isidro’s full attention was on her now. ‘Sirri, what’s happening?’
Delphine was staring, too, her lips parted in sudden alarm.
‘I’m not sure …’ Sierra said. She had to let the power spill, or else she felt it would burst her open. It pooled around her feet in writhing, crackling strands, the pain so intense she felt as though she was standing on a bed of coals.
The others had broken off their lesson. Cam hurried over, and Anoa followed him cautiously, ignoring Ardamon’s barked command to stay back. ‘Sirri —’ Cam began.
‘Someone’s feeding me power,’ she said. ‘Lots of people, from the feel of it. They’re not far away …’ She looked up at the ceiling, and an unwelcome thought occurred to her. ‘Issey, how far underground are we?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said, glancing at Delphine, who shrugged.
‘Geometry is not my strength, but I’d guess less than a mile.’
Sirri, I think that thing we felt was a message, Rasten said.
A message? To who?
‘The male slaves,’ Isidro said, and it took Sierra a moment to remember that he was speaking of something else altogether. ‘The Akharians know they can’t drive Sierra out in open combat — what if they’re trying something else? The women and children have been released, but they still have the men. Sirri, what do you feel?’
Before she could respond a sudden sharp pain at her fingertips stole her voice. It felt like a nail ripped to the quick.
Rasten was watching through her eyes, and she felt him reach for Isidro. I think you’re right, Rasten said. They’re torturing the slaves they have left. From what I feel through Sierra it’s nothing serious — just ripping out fingernails, whipping the soles of the feet, that sort of thing.
Isidro blanched and reeled back, shaking his head as though he could somehow drive Rasten out of it. Sierra was torn between wanting to comfort him and push Rasten away, and being afraid to move lest her power spill over more violently still.
Stammering, Isidro repeated what Rasten had said. It was Delphine who reacted first. ‘Get down to the chamber below — the one you put me in the night of the battle. Quickly!’
‘Why?’ Cam demanded. ‘What’s the problem? I don’t understand —’
‘They’re trying to overload her, you fool!’
‘But why?’ Cam persisted. ‘They’ve come halfway around the world to find Vasant’s cache. Why would they risk destroying it?’
‘It’s not the Gods-forsaken installation that’s in danger here: it’s us!’ Delphine said. ‘If she loses control badly enough we’ll all be dead. Get her downstairs! They don’t know about that chamber, and it’s the only thing that’ll keep us safe!’
There was one other way, but Sierra knew better than to ask, and Rasten hadn’t offered. He would not help her now. She started for the stairs, with Isidro and Delphine at her heels.
Even with her power clawing at her skin, it took all of Sierra’s will to step through the chamber door. She had to treat it as a plunge into icy water, holding her breath and jumping without allowing herself to consider the consequences.
The moment she crossed the threshold her senses felt muffled and numbed, the air felt viscous and thick, and her first instinct was to clamber back into the open air. Just being in the room made her feel as though she was suffocating.
Everyone followed her down, even Cam, Ardamon and Anoa. They all gathered at the door as Sierra prowled around the chamber, probing for any weakness in the shields before finally giving up and throwing her head back with a growl of frustration. She was trapped once again.
‘Is it safe now?’ Cam asked. ‘I really don’t like this business of not knowing when we’re being attacked.’
‘There’s no danger,’ Sierra said. ‘I’m completely cut off. And just when we were starting to make progress, too …’ She turned on her heel again. The chamber was too small to pace. She could lie on the floor with her heels against one wall and her fingertips on the other.
Then an unwelcome thought occurred to her. ‘Issey,’ she said, beckoning him over. ‘Come into the chamber.’
He reacted just as she had, and baulked at the doorway. ‘Why?’
‘Please, just do it. Trust me, Issey.’
Scowling, he did as she asked.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I was worried Rasten would hear us if you stayed outside.’
He started at that, and then nodded. ‘You’re right. He went quiet, and I’d forgotten about him.’
‘Well, I think he heard Delphine talk about this chamber.’
Isidro’s eyes widened. ‘Fires Below.’
‘Yes.’
Delphine looked suddenly frightened. ‘Could they make something like this?’
‘Not at the moment, or they’d have used it to keep Sirri contained,’ Isidro said. ‘But if they know it’s possible, they might work it out …’
That was true for the Akharians as well as Kell and Rasten. With a sigh Sierra sat down on the bench and hugged her knees to her chest.
‘Let me see if I understand what’s happening here,’ Ardamon said. ‘You think the Akharians are torturing the remaining slaves? For the sole purpose of flooding Sierra with power in the hope that she kills us all?’
‘That’s what Rasten thought,’ Isidro said, turning to Sierra. She cautiously rubbed her thumb over her fingernails. They were perfectly whole, but she could still clearly recall that stinging, tearing pain.
‘I think he’s right,’ she said. It wouldn’t stop any time soon, either. The Akharians would have no way of knowing that their target was beyond their reach.
‘Torturing helpless prisoners during negotiations for a truce?’ Ardamon said. ‘Tigers take them! I’ll dispatch a messenger at once.’
‘But what good will it do?’ Cam asked. ‘The only way to stop them is with Rasten and Sierra, and that will give them what they want — Sierra out of the Spire. No doubt the Wolf Clan would be happy with that, too.’ He turned to Sierra. ‘Would Rasten tell the chieftain what’s happening?’
‘I honestly don’t know. It depends on whether it would work in his favour or not.’
‘And we’re in no position to help the prisoners, either,’ Cam said. ‘What are they doing to them? Can you tell?’
‘Rasten mentioned pulling fingernails and whipping feet,’ Isidro said. ‘Sirri, does that fit with what you felt?’
She nodded.
‘Those aren’t crippling injuries, just painful. If challenged they’ll claim it’s discipline for unruly prisoners.’ He fell silent, looking thoughtful.
‘I know that look on your face, Issey,’ Cam said. ‘What are you thinking?’
Isidro frowned. ‘The Wolf Clan could use this against us. There are thousands of women and children in the Wolf Clan’s camp, missing their husbands and brothers. If word gets out that they’re being tortured because we refuse to leave the Spire …’
‘Fires Below,’ Cam said. ‘I’m beginning to hope Rasten doesn’t tell your kin,’ he said to Ardamon.
‘If he thinks it would put Sierra in danger, he won’t do it,’ Isidro said. ‘We can rely on that. I wonder if the Akharians know about the link between Sierra and Rasten, though, and if that’s why they chose to attack during the negotiations — to gauge Rasten’s response …?’ He directed this to Delphine.
‘We’ve never known of it, but after the attack here they could have surmised at least its existence.’
‘Very well,’ Cam said. ‘What do we do now?’
Sierra sighed and buried her face in her hands. ‘There’s nothing we can do. I’ll have to stay here until they realise it isn’t working and give up.’ That could take days. It cost very little to
keep their slaves in considerable pain for days at a time, and even a handful of mages could keep the Wolf men from interfering.
‘Well,’ Delphine said, ‘there are exercises you can attend to in the meantime. And Isidro, you should work on your own store of power, without leeching off Sierra. There’s plenty to be getting on with.’
Sierra spent the day in that tiny, stifling chamber. In the evening she ventured out again, but power hit her like a storm, sending her stumbling back half-blinded by the brilliant spill of lightning.
Once it was clear she would have to spend the night in the shielded room, Cam had their bedding and the evening meal brought up from the cavern. Since Isidro couldn’t bear to be within the shields Cam joined her in the cramped space, utterly mystified by his brother’s revulsion, while the others remained in the corridor. Delphine was escorted back to her own quarters, but Ardamon stayed rather than return to Mira’s empty tent, and at his invitation Anoa joined them for the meal as well. A cautious kind of friendship was growing between her and Sierra, for their backgrounds were more similar than different. It helped that Anoa didn’t so much as blink at the light and noise while Sierra and Isidro were training.
They spent the evening telling stories and playing games until late. As Ardamon and Isidro debated laying the stones out again on Ardamon’s embroidered game-cloth, a servant brought a message from Mira, sent down from the camp above. It may have been late in the night within the cavern, but on the surface folk were apparently settling in to their evening meal.
Ardamon broke Mira’s seal with his thumb. ‘Dear cousin,’ he read. ‘I hope this finds you all well. I intend to return to the Spire tomorrow, you may expect me in the evening, should the Gods be willing.
‘The negotiations proceed poorly. The Slavers are intent on possessing the Spire and will accept nothing less. Our guest’s letter appears to have had the desired effect, and I see no indication that they are considering an attack by force. Not that they would give us any warning,’ he muttered. ‘I do have some unwelcome news — Mother proposes to allow a delegation of Akharians to inspect the cache. They are currently haggling over the price, as Mother has demanded half of the remaining slaves. I have impressed upon her the importance of giving us ample notice, and wondered if Isidro can recommend any particular Akharians we should admit or exclude.’
That news earnt a mutter of dismay from Sierra, while Anoa sat up and hugged her knees to her chest with a shiver. Ardamon reached out to her with a hesitant hand, but she warned him back with a glare before scowling at the floor.
‘I’ll see Torren excluded if possible,’ Isidro told her. ‘We’ll make sure you don’t have to see him.’
‘I’d rather have his cock and balls on a silver platter, but I suppose that’s the best I can ask for,’ Anoa said.
‘Mother is talking of a long-term alliance between the Akharians and the Wolf Clan and pledging peace within the clan’s territory, whatever happens between the empire and the king. It will cause trouble with Severian, of course, and Osebian near had an apoplexy at the thought, but I could all but see the wheels turning in his head — he thinks our lands will be his soon enough, and imagines he can turn the matter to his advantage. Given that it will be years before we have any more mages to stand beside Sierra, I feel this is the best we can hope for. Therefore I urge you to find a way to let this inspection take place, and we will discuss the matter further on my return.
‘The conditions in the camp are very bad. The prisoners have been released with the clothes on their back and nothing else — the Slavers have retained the tents, stoves and all the bedding. The tents and blankets we have are occupied in rota, and the newly released prisoners have yet to be settled. Supplies are strictly rationed and must be kept under constant guard, but I am told that fresh stores are on their way and what we have should hold out, barring further riots. The camp is in utter chaos, with packs of children running wild with no kin or clan to take them to task. The men are sore pushed to maintain order without treating the poor waifs as harshly as the Slavers did. Many of the women and elders are still in shock. Those I spoke to seem evenly divided between people praising our efforts to free them and those angry we could not act sooner. Opinion regarding Ricalani mages in general and Sierra in particular is also divided. Just as many believe she should be killed as a Child of the Black Sun as feel mages should return to Ricalan. At present I am utterly uncertain which way the common people will turn, and the guards hourly break up fights between those of opposing views.
‘The clan has been watching the duke and his men closely; there is no sign he intends to make a play for any of our outlaws. This suggests that he is relying on Rasten to draw Sierra out, but I worry our information is inaccurate. It is quite unlike Angessovar to play such a passive game, particularly with talk of an alliance against the king’s interests.
‘It’s signed with Mira’s signature.’ Ardamon handed the note to Cam. ‘There’s a message for you at the end.’
Cam held the paper up to the lamplight, and smiled. ‘I like this talk of an alliance. If it goes ahead, the Wolf Clan may well break Mira’s betrothal, and there’ll be nothing the king can do about it.’
Ardamon and Anoa returned to the cavern, but Cam and Isidro stayed with Sierra, for which she was grateful. The stone chamber reminded her strongly of Kell’s dungeons, but the distraction of company made it easier to bear.
She slept soundly until what they were calling early morning. It was an odd noise that roused her, a peculiar sobbing moan, a sound of deep distress.
There was no light in the chamber, but a faint glow drifted down from the stairwell, where Nirveli had left the mage-lights glowing. Sierra made out Cam’s silhouette beside her, still and unmoving apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest. The noise was coming from the corridor.
Sierra slipped from her furs and went to the doorway. Isidro twitched and moaned in his furs, gripped by some bad dream.
She hesitated at the threshold, wondering if the Slavers would continue the attack around the clock. If nothing else it would burn through their slaves too quickly. Sierra drew a cautious breath and stepped through.
The power hit her in a swollen stream, but it was manageable. Sierra knelt at Isidro’s side as he tossed and muttered beneath the blanket. ‘Issey, you’re having a bad dream. Wake up!’
He reacted with violence, striking out with a flailing hand, but Sierra deflected the blow with a shield. Then he seemed to come to his senses and sat up, wrestling with his blankets.
Sierra reached for him again, but he flinched away and she pulled back to give him space. After a moment he looked at her in confusion. ‘Sirri, what are you doing? Where are we?’ He was there with her, she realised, but at the same time still trapped within the dream.
‘Issey, we’re in the Spire. We —’ Then, she blinked and caught a glimpse of vision through another set of eyes. Endless stone halls flashed past as someone rushed through them in panic, chased by some terrible, inescapable enemy. It took a great deal of effort to pull herself back to the present.
‘I’m still dreaming,’ Isidro said. ‘But you’re here too. Sirri … I can’t —’
‘It’s alright,’ Sierra told him. ‘It’s Rasten. Isidro, you’re caught in Rasten’s dream. You need to block him out.’
Isidro shook his head, and Sierra realised that he probably didn’t have the strength. Rasten was desperate, and in his irrational state trying to climb into someone else’s head must seem as good an escape as any. She’d been trapped in his nightmares herself, and she knew this was only the first part. She had to find some way to cut him off before Kell caught Rasten and the next stage of the dream began.
‘Issey, you need to break the connection. If you come into the chamber he won’t be able to reach you.’ Standing, she took his hand to tug him to his feet, and led him to the shielded doorway.
Isidro baulked at the threshold. ‘No. I’m not going in there.’
‘Issey, plea
se, you have to trust me …’ She tried to pull him forward, but he shifted his grip to her wrist and drew her to him instead. He was far stronger than her, and she would not use power on him if she had a choice. ‘No, Sirri, I mean it!’
Alright, she thought. This isn’t working. She could wake Cam to help her … but Isidro was absorbing power in that peculiar way he had. If he reacted badly, Cam could be hurt, and Isidro would be mortified.
There was another solution. Back in the dungeons it had been her only refuge when Rasten was summoned for an evening of his master’s pleasure. Her talent meant she felt every moment of it, until Rasten showed her how to escape within herself and block it out. She’d been sceptical at first, certain it was some sick trick intended to warp her responses and her mind. Perhaps it was, but one desperate night she’d tried it, and found that it worked. She hadn’t mentioned this to Isidro — he had never judged her for the things she’d done to survive, but this was one secret shame she didn’t have the courage to expose.
Sierra lifted her face and kissed him. She wound one arm around his neck to draw him down, and trailed the other hand down his chest and below his belly to stroke and caress. Isidro drew a deep breath and shivered, then dropped her wrist to twine his fingers into her hair.
The blast of sheer pleasure and sensation of climax should pull him clear. She pulled him down to his furs again and he shifted his hand to her breast. When she opened his trousers and took him in her mouth, he moaned again, and it was all pleasure this time, with no distress. It was working.
Rasten shoved at the connection inside her head, like a caged beast mindlessly throwing itself against the bars. She tried to push him from her mind, but his desperation wrung at her heart. It’s only a dream, she thought to him. It’s not really happening. You can wake up and make it stop.
It won’t ever stop, he replied. Not until Kell’s dead.
She felt utterly torn. Rasten was responsible for countless horrors, but he had not acted of his own free will — or at least, not until his appetite for the power his rituals brought him had woken. Kell had orchestrated everything. Part of her felt that the apprentice deserved to suffer for the things he’d done, but another wanted to weep for all he’d endured since Kell slaughtered his family and made him a slave.