by Spurrier, Jo
She turned her mind away, focussing instead on the warm and responsive man beneath her.
Isidro caught her arm and pulled her up to face him. His tension had eased: he was beginning to break loose. ‘Sirri, you —’
He lost his voice as she settled onto him. She was ready, and swallowed the shame she felt — no normal girl should find her lust rising with the promise of torment and pain. She knew on some level though that this was what her body had learnt in the last two years. She was afraid what he’d think of her if he knew.
Sierra pushed that fear from her head and focussed all her attention on the doubled sensation — because of her power she felt his response as strongly as her own. As she rocked against him the fire drove all other thought from her mind, and she let her power flare to carry them both.
When the climax came, it left her head as clean and clear as a summer sky … all except for one tiny corner of her mind, where Rasten clung like a storm-tossed sailor clings to a rope.
Thank you, was all he said.
Isidro smiled as they lounged shoulder-deep in the hot pool. Sierra was cradled against his chest while the harness of splints and enchantments lay across the room, out of reach of splashes and steam.
She relaxed against him, closing her eyes. He felt extremely weary, too, which seemed odd given that he’d slept well up until Rasten’s nightmare. ‘I take it the Akharians haven’t renewed the attack?’
‘No, but it’s only a matter of time. I suppose I should find Delphine and train while I can … only I want to sit here a little longer …’
In the end hunger propelled her out of the water, but Isidro was too sleepy to muster energy to rise and follow her, so he stayed in the warmth and watched as she dried herself with a blast of power and dressed. He slouched down into the water, and then straightened with a wince as a sudden pain lanced through his chest. He pressed his fingers against the spot, lodged right back against his spine like a fish-hook snared beneath his heart. He took a few shallow breaths and the pain seemed to fade, but then he drew one deep one and it was back, sharp and fresh.
Sierra paused in pulling on her shirt. ‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Pulled a muscle, maybe.’ Or perhaps it was an artefact of the fever that rose up whenever he let himself get overtired. ‘It’s nothing, Sirri.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Certain,’ he said, hiding his concern as well as he could.
She frowned but said only, ‘Well, if I don’t see you down in the cavern soon I’ll bring you some breakfast and tea.’
As she left, a kind of shifting weight inside his head betrayed Rasten’s awareness, and Isidro went very still.
I’m sorry about that, Rasten said. The, ah, dream, I mean.
Isidro couldn’t think what to say, and so he said nothing. Was Rasten baiting him? Distracting him? He would never take an apology from Rasten seriously — it only put him on guard.
For a long moment there was silence, and he began to wonder if Rasten was less waiting for a response than being more confused and awkward, as Isidro was.
You know, I thought I’d have to kill you, but I couldn’t find a way to do it without turning Sirri against me completely. When I realised that she’d end up doing it herself, I thought it meant one less problem, but now … well, I suppose I’ve grown used to having you around. Do you know, aside from Sierra you’ve survived the longest of anyone we’ve held under the rituals? If you died now, I think I’d miss you.
I don’t see any way around it, though. I know you’re never going to heed my warning. Can’t say I blame you, but I’m going to say it anyway. Sierra’s powers are growing, and she’ll be deadly unless she’s properly trained. You have to stop fucking her, or she’ll kill you.
What in the Black Sun’s name —? Isidro began, but before he could finish the thought Rasten reached through the connection into him, and somehow grasped that fish-hook lodged near his spine. For an instant Isidro glimpsed the thing, something like a cross between a barb and a sucker-vine entangled in his vitals, draining his energy like a parasite feeding on the vitality of its host.
The wrench as Rasten pulled it free hurt more than anything since his arm had been broken. Isidro felt himself convulse, coming with a hair’s breadth of striking his head against the stone lip of the pool. It left him breathing hard, with lights flashing before his eyes, but now he could draw breath without pain, and the strange weariness had lifted.
She can’t help it, Rasten said. But if you go on like this, she’ll destroy you. I know you care about her — how will she feel when she comes back to herself to find your corpse in her furs? You know what you have to do.
With that, Rasten was gone, leaving Isidro stunned and breathing hard. The chamber door swung open without warning, and he flinched violently.
‘Isidro?’ Cam leant his head around the door. ‘Is everything alright? I thought I heard … something …’
From the look on Cam’s face, Isidro realised he must have cried out. Since he was still wide-eyed and panting, there was no use denying it. ‘It’s Rasten, playing another of his games.’
Stepping into the chamber, Cam shook his head in disgust. ‘Well, to be honest I was surprised he slunk away so meekly after the battle. What’s he playing at?’
Isidro clambered out of the water and began to dry himself. ‘Some horseshit about Sirri’s power being dangerous.’ As he spoke, a thread of fear clenched around his heart and knotted in his belly. Delphine had warned him, and he’d dismissed it — back in the early days of her capture she would have said or done anything to make him falter. But Rasten and Nirveli had echoed the warning and while Rasten had every reason to lie to him, Nirveli had none.
It can’t be true, he thought. But even if it is, we’ll find a way around it, find a way to fix it. We have to. She’s our only hope, and we haven’t come this far to give up now.
‘No, really?’ Cam grinned. ‘Does Sirri know what he’s up to?’
‘No, and I don’t intend to tell her. He can’t drive us out, so he’s trying the only tactic he has left — divide and conquer. He’s only trying to distract Sierra, and I don’t intend to give him what he wants.’
Chapter 7
The day’s lessons began well. Sierra had been practising the breathing exercises, and once back on the training ground she felt the improvement at once.
Isidro lingered to watch. He still found it thrilling to see her in action, and at times he wondered that someone like her would choose a cripple like him to share her hearth and her furs.
He allowed himself a short time for this indulgence, and then went to his own lesson. Nirveli and Delphine seemed impressed with his progress, given the years he’d worn the warding-stone. Once, he’d come upon them discussing how Kell’s rituals could have undone the suppression. It gave him some small comfort to know the torture that had robbed him of his independence might have restored his withered talent, but mostly it seemed a poor trade.
In the main chamber, Anoa was talking to Nirveli. The ghost — and Isidro could think of no other term to describe her — could be roused from sleep easily enough, but upon waking she struggled to recall anything that had happened in the weeks since their arrival. When she did remember, it came in a confused jumble, and took some time before she was lucid enough to begin the lessons.
Anoa stood as Isidro came down the stairs. ‘She’s up and making sense. As much as she ever does, anyway,’ she said with a faint scowl. Since Anoa and Sierra had grown closer, her attitude towards Nirveli had turned decidedly chill. Isidro understood the girl’s point of view — Nirveli refused to teach Sierra entirely because of what had been done to her, not because of any choice she’d made — but Anoa didn’t seem to realise that Nirveli had no more choice than Sierra did. Whatever process Vasant had used to entomb her in the stone had stolen her free will and bound her completely to the rules he had laid down. Nirveli physically could not teach Sierra — she couldn’t even gi
ve Isidro lessons when Sierra was in the chamber. The implications of that still terrified him if he considered them too deeply.
‘Thank you, Anoa. I think you’re beginning to wake more easily,’ he said to Nirveli.
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. It feels like a long night of broken sleep, waking and drifting off again with dreams in between. Half the time I’m not sure if I’m awake or dreaming.’
‘Which is it now?’ Isidro asked.
Nirveli blinked at him, and then raised a hand. Lights swirled into the outline of a bird on her wrist, fussing and preening before spreading its wings and taking flight into the distance.
‘Have you ever done that in real life?’ Nirveli asked. ‘I’m never sure. Are you ready for your lesson?’
‘I am. Shall we begin?’ Isidro settled onto one of the cushions strewn in this corner of the chamber.
The lessons were taxing and thorough, despite his teacher’s nebulous grip on reality. Nirveli interspersed theory with practice, and since he could draw power from Sierra so quickly she made the most of it by teaching him about enchantments. Vasant’s people had left behind a considerable quantity of blank stones, some raw, some prepared and ready to use, and some bearing the decayed remains of ancient workings. By the end of the morning Nirveli had him making the simplest of enchantments: lantern-stones to replace the ones that Sierra had inadvertently destroyed.
As hours passed, Isidro found himself short of breath, and by mid-morning the stinging pain in his chest had returned.
He refused to give in to it, and forced himself back to the task until he was ravenous and his head swam with exhaustion. Taking his leave from Nirveli, he tried to stand, but his legs were shaky. Steadying himself against the wall, Isidro hesitated.
He couldn’t deny Rasten had eased the pain, and it returned once he’d used power. Therefore it seemed logical to relieve it by cutting himself off from power — and that meant the dampening chamber.
Isidro grimaced at the thought, but if he went down into the cavern and this sensation didn’t lift, he wouldn’t have the will to climb back up to test his theory. So with a sigh, he went down to the lower level.
He had to gather his nerve to enter the chamber, but relief came the instant he crossed the threshold. At once he could breathe deeply again and, though he would have thought it impossible to find the suffocating shields restful, after a few moments he fell into a doze.
Isidro felt he’d only closed his eyes for a moment when voices on the stairs roused him with a jolt.
He scrambled up and left the chamber. If Sierra saw him there she would want to know why, and he didn’t want to tell her about Rasten’s warning — she had enough to worry about, and he didn’t want to shake her burgeoning confidence.
He met her hurrying down the stairs with power surging around her and Delphine and Anoa in tow, but she said nothing as she rushed past him. The pain returned with a sharp needle-stab, but it vanished again as she crossed the shields.
The spilling light winked out, plunging the corridor into darkness until Isidro set his lantern-stone glowing and handed it to Anoa.
When the light returned Sierra was standing in the doorway, watching him with wide eyes. ‘Issey, what’s wrong? I felt that.’
‘Nothing,’ he told her. ‘I overstretched myself this morning, that’s all. Is it the Akharians again?’
‘Yes. I started down here as soon as I felt it.’ She retreated from the doorway and pushed her face into one of the chamber’s walls.
Delphine was studying his face closely. ‘You do look pale.’
‘Too long without sunlight,’ Isidro said. ‘Sirri, forgive me, but I’m famished. I’ll find something to eat, and have your meal sent up.’
‘Go,’ she told him with a flap of her hand. ‘Delphine’s right: you look like you need it.’
His instinct was correct — once down the cascade the idea of climbing it again seemed utterly daunting. He told Cam that Sierra was under attack again, and sent him to keep her company while he shared a meal with those still in the tents. Isidro ate in ravenous haste and then asked Rhia if he might borrow her furs, since his were still inside the cache. He spent the afternoon in a restful and utterly dreamless sleep.
When the commotion of Mira’s return woke him that evening, he felt normal once again, with no hint of pain, dizziness or exhaustion. Outside he met Cam and Rhia on their way to welcome Mira home.
‘Isidro, you do look better,’ Rhia said, looking him over. ‘Are you hungry? We saved you some dinner.’
‘Thanks, Rhia, but I’ll hear Mira’s news first.’ He glanced around. ‘Is Sirri here?’
‘She’s still in the chamber,’ Cam said. ‘She’s been asking after you. I promised I’d bring her word from Mira, but if you’re up you can tell her yourself.’
Mira brought an entourage of servants, guards and porters bearing fresh supplies. She looked harrowed and weary, her boots and coat caked with mud — the first sign of spring Isidro had seen that year. She delegated the task of stowing supplies to her servants and had Cam, Isidro and Ardamon follow her to her tent to hear the news.
‘It’s perfectly wretched up there,’ she said, flinging herself down into a fur-lined chair. ‘I thought I’d be pleased to see the women and children freed, but the clan is barely able to feed and shelter them. We don’t dare send them home until the treaty is finalised and the legions quit our lands, or else they’ll simply be enslaved again. The Akharians still hold Earthblood and all its supplies, so there’s no help there. Once it’s safe to send them to the hamlets and hill-towns to the south things will be easier, but there’s no telling if the spring weather will hold off long enough to let them get there. It’s madness, absolute madness. I hate to think what the women went through once the Akharians knew they’d soon be freed. Most of them are in shock, and we don’t even have the resources to let them wash away the stink of the slave camps. The ones who aren’t in a daze are frantically searching for their kin, but there’s so much chaos and confusion that it’s a hopeless cause. The children are still running in packs like wild beasts. It’s truly awful.’ She buried her face in her hands while Cam poured her a bowl of tea and Ardamon dished out the stew held back from their evening meal.
‘So you see,’ Mira went on, ‘the negotiations are simply vital. If the Akharians attacked now we’d be lost, even with Sierra and Rasten. They’re insisting on inspecting the cache, and we cannot refuse them, or even delay them for long.’
‘We can hardly expect them to agree to an alliance without seeing what they can gain by it,’ Isidro said.
‘And we can at least declare that only a certain number of mages will be admitted,’ Mira said. ‘Isidro, have you thought on who we should admit? I was thinking that Harwin should be one …’
‘Yes,’ Isidro said. ‘Unfortunately, the ones I’d like to exclude are of senior rank, and I’m afraid we won’t be able to.’
‘I know who you mean,’ Mira said. ‘But let’s discuss it tomorrow. I’m just so weary …’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I take it we have a few days, then.’
‘A few, but no more. We don’t dare stall them: if they lose patience and blockade our supply lines, the camp will be starving in a matter of days.’ She peered into her half-full bowl, and set it aside with a sigh. Isidro was nearly finished his, a rich and hearty dish of beans, pickled vegetables and meat, but he too had been in a state when even the finest food couldn’t tempt his appetite.
‘Cam, I need to speak to you. In private, if I may. Is there somewhere out of the way that we can go? In the cache, perhaps?’ Mira heaved herself to her feet once again.
‘Of course,’ Cam said, looking surprised. As they left, Isidro noted Ardamon glance after Cam with a look of sorrow, or perhaps even pity. Either way, it was enough to give Isidro a chill of unease.
‘The training ground is empty,’ Cam said. ‘We won’t be interrupted there.’
‘Empty?’ Mira said. ‘I assumed Sierra woul
d be working, since I didn’t see her in the cavern.’
‘No, she’s downstairs. Fires Below, I’d forgotten you didn’t know — the Akharians have been flooding her with power.’ He told her of the attack that had begun the day before. ‘It’s inconvenient, but there’s no danger so long as she can retreat behind the shields. We thought it would disrupt her lessons, but she’s still making progress …’
‘Well, if we can somehow bluff through the inspection, they might give it up if they see it’s having no effect.’
The furniture Sierra had been using was still scattered around the chamber. One of the items was a carved, high-backed chair, and Mira slumped into it, hiding her eyes with her hand as Cam dragged a chest over for a seat. ‘Cam, I’ve got some bad news. I’ve been ordered to return to Ruhavera to prepare for the wedding. I must depart within a week.’
For a moment, Cam was struck speechless. ‘The wedding? They can’t seriously intend to go through with it. They’re negotiating with the king’s enemies!’
‘It has been suggested our interests would be better served by marriage to an Akharian noble instead,’ Mira said, tears in her eyes though she tried to speak dispassionately. ‘Mother has made it clear I’m to prepare for a wedding at midsummer, even if her choice of bridegroom is still pending. But, in any case, the Angessovar contract still stands: the clan isn’t actually in rebellion any more, and the king has sanctioned the negotiations with the Slavers, largely because he needs our warriors in the south as soon as possible. That’s why Osebian’s here! And lucky he is: if we break the contract, the king will be within his rights to withdraw the men Osebian brought. If they leave and take Rasten with them, we’ll be at the mercy of the Slavers.’
Cam gave her a long, steady look. ‘You mean your clan will make you marry Osebian even if they intend to revolt in the end? Severian will have your head for that, if he doesn’t give you to Kell to punish your kin.’