by Spurrier, Jo
Only Sympaths could transfer energy from one person to another — that was a basic tenet of mage-craft. Only it wasn’t true, was it? Isidro had absorbed power from her, on several occasions.
She was running out of time. She had to try something.
Drawing a deep breath, she gathered up the finest thread of power she could muster. Once, on her annual service to the empire, she’d been assigned to repair a dam damaged by an earthquake. This task was little different, surely? She was just repairing the rift, shoring up the damaged wall, reinforcing the weak points. She didn’t let herself think too much about the actual substance she was repairing, which to her touch seemed something between the fine, soft skin of an infant and the delicate tissue of a new leaf. Delphine had never been one for fine needlework, but that was the closest analogy she could find to stitching the ragged hole closed, using her own life-force for thread. As she sewed the wound shut she couldn’t help but feel that she was stitching herself to him as well.
It took an age. Every time she thought the task done, the bone-viewer revealed another puff of energy escaping, but after more times than she could count, the wound stayed clear. Delphine lifted the viewer from his chest and shuffled back out of the way to let the healer take stock of her patient again.
‘Rhia, how is he?’ Cam asked softly while the physician pried open his eyes, counted his breaths and then pressed her ear against his chest to listen to his heart.
‘His heart is still too fast, but not as bad as it was. His breathing is slower, too,’ she replied in Ricalani. ‘And look, his lips are growing pink. He is better, Cam, I am sure of it.’
‘But he’s not waking up.’
‘It might take days,’ Delphine interjected, slumped against the wall. ‘You’d better come here,’ she said, levelling one finger at Cam. ‘You too, Mira. You’re both wounded as well. It’s not as bad as Isidro, but you’d better let me take a closer look.’ She tapped the viewer in her lap.
Cam gave her a suspicious look. ‘What are you talking about? Sirri never touched us.’
‘Really? Don’t you feel a little sick? A little shaky, perhaps?’
‘Fires Below, my brother was dying before our eyes! How do you think I felt?’
‘Cam, let her use the viewer,’ Rhia said. ‘From what I saw we’ll see if she speaks the truth.’
Cam said nothing, just continued to scowl, and Mira gently touched his arm. ‘I’ll go first, if you like.’
‘By the Black Sun, you won’t,’ he snapped. ‘If there’s any risk I’ll take it first. What do I have to do?’
Delphine beckoned him over. ‘Come here and sit down. I don’t think I should stand up with this thing right now. We’ll need it to check Isidro later …’
Cam and Mira both had similar wounds, clearly visible on the viewer although each was little more than a scratch compared to the gaping laceration Isidro’s had been. What Delphine hadn’t considered was that she had no way of repairing them, since neither bore the ritual sigil that gave access to Isidro’s store of power. There was little she could do but hope that they would recover on their own.
‘If all else fails I could use the Blood-Mage book to work a ritual and make a mark, but you’ll have to promise not to tell anyone in Akhara or I’ll be hanged,’ Delphine told Mira as she tried to slip the suppression bands over her shaking hands again. ‘Do you know, this is why I’d never make a Battle-Mage. Sometimes when my power gets low I go a little strange.’
‘Uh, my lady?’ Amaya said from Mira’s side. ‘I think she should have something to eat and drink. Her students would bring her food when she got like this. Should I fetch something?’
‘Yes, at once,’ Mira told the girl, and Amaya hurried away as Mira twisted the wires together and Delphine obligingly held out her other hand.
‘I never thought I’d forgive you for forcing him to betray his people,’ Mira said to her. ‘But Isidro’s right — you’re a decent woman, even if you are a Slaver.’
Sierra watched from the doorway as Isidro’s stretcher was carried into a nearby chamber. Delphine was led away, too, with a blanket around her shoulders and a chunk of bannock in her fist.
Once they were gone, Sierra heard no more of the discussion. She stayed by the door anyway, straining to catch a word here or there, but as time passed she found herself leaning closer and closer to the shield, then jerked back lest she cross it and do more damage. In the end she took herself away to the far side of the room.
Hours more passed before anyone came to speak with her. By that time, Sierra was wrung out with weeping, and she curled into the corner with her pounding head pillowed on her arms. When Cam rapped on the door and called her name, Sierra lifted her head with a wince. ‘How is he?’ she asked, blinking bleary eyes. ‘Is he awake?’
‘Not yet,’ Cam said. ‘But he hasn’t had another fit, and Rhia says his breathing is stronger.’ Cam stood outside the door and, as Sierra watched, he absently rubbed the heel of his hand over his heart.
‘Cam, I need food and drink,’ Sierra said. ‘And water for washing, please. And if Delphine’s still sleeping I’ll need an oil-lamp and books to study —’
‘In a moment,’ Cam said, cutting her off. ‘Sierra … what in the Black Sun’s name happened? What did you do?’
The accusation in his voice was enough to start her weeping again.
‘Fires Below, Sirri, you almost killed him!’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘Do you imagine I did this on purpose?’
Anger and fear were written plainly on his face as he watched her with a narrow gaze.
‘Well?’ Sierra demanded. ‘Answer me, curse you!’
‘Of course not,’ Cam blurted.
‘Then why are you accusing me? And why are you standing in the cursed doorway like a gaoler questioning a prisoner?’
With a growl he stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. ‘Sirri, what happened?’
‘I told you, I don’t know!’
He was vibrating with anger. Had they been outside this chamber Sierra would have felt it pouring off him, although it wasn’t power she could use. It struck Sierra that in this chamber she was as helpless as anyone else. Cam wouldn’t hurt her, however angry he was, but it was rare that she felt truly vulnerable. Usually the only person who made her feel this way was Rasten.
Cam raked his fingers through his hair and began to pace. He would not look at her. ‘Delphine spoke with Rasten. He said you did this to Isidro — you ripped him open badly enough that he could have bled to death.’
Sierra gaped at him. Then she slowly slid down the wall to sit in a heap on the rumpled blankets.
‘And she said you did the same to us! Sirri, what in the Black Sun’s name …?’ He broke off with a shake of his head. ‘What gives you the right —?’
‘I can’t help it!’ she shouted. ‘I told you that, right from the start! Since that night the king’s men found us, I’ve never hidden what I am from you. Never!’
He turned to her, scowling, with his bunched fists propped on his hips.
‘If I could stop, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?’ Sierra snapped. ‘Or do you think I enjoyed sharing every moment Kell and Rasten spent torturing and raping their prisoners?’
‘Oh, hold your wretched tongue,’ Cam spat, pacing once more, but after a few steps he stopped and turned to her again. ‘Sirri, forgive me, I didn’t mean to curse you. It’s just … I’m all to pieces over this …’
‘So am I,’ Sierra said, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘But I can’t help what I am.’
‘Sirri, I’ve felt this before, you know,’ he said, touching his chest once again. ‘The device Rasten made felt just like this. Rasten said your power is … changing. Couldn’t you feel it?’
‘I thought I was learning to control it! Fires Below, Cam, do you think I’d hurt him willingly? I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how to fix it, and I don’t know how t
o keep it from happening again!’
He gave a short, sharp sigh, and tipped his head to one side to regard her. ‘My apologies, Sirri. Of course you don’t know — how could you, when no one seems to know the first thing about your power? What was it you needed? Food, drink and wash water?’
‘And a lamp and my books,’ Sierra said, her voice thick with tears. ‘That will give me enough to go on with.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Has Rhia said when she thinks he’ll wake?’
‘She doesn’t know. Could be today, could be tomorrow. She says it’s impossible to say.’
He turned for the door, but Sierra called him back. ‘Cam?’ Her breath hitched in her chest. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know, Sirri. I just don’t know.’
Isidro didn’t stir all that day. In the evening, Sierra ventured out of the shielded chamber while Rhia and Delphine watched over him. The moment Sierra stepped out, his heart began to race and a fresh plume of life-force leaked from the wound in his chest. Sierra retreated, and spent that night behind shields as well.
In the morning he seemed a little stronger, and this time when she risked exposing herself his condition didn’t change. They tried placing Isidro in the shielded room so Sierra could train, but the moment he crossed the threshold his breathing became laboured, and Rhia ordered him carried out at once. Delphine concluded that the shields interfered in the generation of life-force.
Within an hour, the Akharians began their daily assault, and Sierra had to retreat again.
She and Delphine tried to continue her lessons in theory and meditation, but both of them were tense and distracted. By the second morning, the pressure had become intolerable. When their raised voices brought Rhia running to quiet them before they disturbed Isidro’s rest, Delphine departed in a huff, leaving Sierra alone in her cell once again.
The chamber had never felt like a refuge, but it truly was a prison now. After all she’d done, all she’d survived and achieved, she was trapped behind stone walls once again. All their mad, desperate plans had gone better than she’d ever expected, but where had it got her? If the Akharians tried to re-take the Spire, she couldn’t fight without killing Isidro. She couldn’t train, and the books were as good as useless to a Sympath like her.
With nothing to do and no more hopes or dreams to distract her, Sierra simply lay on her furs and stared at the ceiling in despair.
Some time in the afternoon, Mira came to call on her, tapping hesitantly on the chamber door. ‘Sirri? May I come in?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sierra said, forcing herself to sit up. ‘How is he? Has there been any change?’
‘None, and I’m afraid his recovery may take some time,’ Mira said, settling on the bench at Sierra’s side. ‘I’ve been keeping Mother apprised of the situation, and she believes we can’t afford to put off the Akharian visit without raising their suspicions. We have to find a way to show them this place without revealing our vulnerabilities.’
Sierra rubbed a hand across her face, and nodded. ‘Very well. What do you have in mind?’
‘Mother has arranged for five hundred Akharian soldiers and fifty mages to surrender as hostages for the duration of the inspection, for surety against those who will venture down here —’
‘Mages?’ Sierra said. ‘I don’t like that idea.’
‘We’ve made a deal with Rasten to supply more of the stones that are restraining Delphine,’ Mira said. ‘They’ll be quite helpless until we choose to release them. The problem is, what do we do with you? Hiding Isidro is a simple matter; we’ll just disguise him and fill the chamber with wounded folk. But if they find out you’re trapped down here … if they see an opportunity, they’ll take it.’
‘Yes,’ Sierra said. ‘Your clan would exchange their hostages for you, I’m certain of it.’
‘Most likely,’ Mira said. ‘Now, it’s possible the Akharians will strike against you to coincide with the visit —’
‘Whether they do will be telling,’ Sierra said. ‘They won’t attack if they’ve gone and fed me a mess of power.’
‘Precisely. And if they don’t, we’ll know they’re up to something. Cam tells me that cold can help keep your power in check — what if you retreated down one of the other passages? Far enough that any spill of power won’t be detected, but close enough to call you if there’s trouble. Issey could be brought in here very quickly; it might weaken him a little, but it could save his life while you face them down. What do you think?’
‘It seems a fair plan,’ Sierra said.
‘Good. It will take us some time to work out the details — a few days, or perhaps a week.’
Sierra straightened. ‘A week?’ She buried her face in her hands. She’d not even spent three days down here and already felt she was going mad. ‘Will your kin let you stay that long?’
Mira paused. ‘They’re not happy about it, but I have no intention of leaving now. This situation is too delicate to rush into anything.’
‘And afterwards?’ Sierra asked. ‘What then?’
‘Well, Delphine is certain they’ll push for an alliance once they see what we’ve found. If so, I think we must take their offer, make the alliance and ask the empire’s help in training you in return for your aid in destroying Rasten and Kell. I’ve spoken to Delphine about how Akharians deal with Blood-Mages, and it seems they expect Kell to cost them dearly. It’s a deal that would benefit us both.’
The very idea filled Sierra with a sudden and visceral disgust. ‘Oh, by the Black Sun, no! After all they’ve done to us?’
‘I can’t say I like it, but it may be our only way to destroy Kell and Rasten.’
Sierra couldn’t bring herself to answer. When she said nothing, Mira patted her knee and stood once again. ‘Well, that’s all a ways off yet. I just wanted to see if you had any objections before we took this any further.’
Sierra shook her head. ‘I hate it, but only because I can’t stand the thought of allying ourselves with the Slavers.’
‘I understand, but we need practical solutions.’ Mira sighed. ‘I just wish I could ask Issey about this. Well, he might still wake in time to have a say. Sirri, I’ll talk to you again when I’ve had word from Lady Tarya.’
When she left, Sierra lay down on her bedding once again, and watched the lamplight flickering over the walls.
Wouldn’t it be worth an alliance with the Slavers to see Kell destroyed? Rasten had convinced her months ago that she wouldn’t see peace until Kell was gone. But still her heart and her mind rebelled from the idea of fighting at the side of those who had murdered, raped and looted across the north. Oh, the Akharians would take the alliance, she had no doubt of that, but once Kell was dead and they had the Spire, would they honour the deal? If they did break it, they’d make sure Sierra could not stand against them.
But what was the alternative?
Perhaps it would have been better if I’d never escaped, she thought. Isidro wouldn’t be in a coma right now, and he wouldn’t have been in Drysprings when the Akharians raided. Cam wouldn’t have been recognised if the king’s men hadn’t been searching the countryside for her, and his little band would have muddled along until Mira gave them refuge. They would be ensconced in Ruhavera now and out of danger. Of course, the slaves wouldn’t be free, but the men being tortured to harass her would be spared the torment. Which of those was worse?
Sierra knew this trail of thought served no purpose, but she couldn’t stop. What if her escape hadn’t succeeded? If Rasten had brought her back to Kell that night, she would have been raped and tortured from that moment. Rasten insisted that she was strong enough to withstand it, but Sierra wasn’t so sure. All she’d wanted then was freedom and, if she were faced with a lifetime of suffering and servitude, Kell might have broken her as he had so many others. These short months of freedom had taught her she could live and love again after years of horror as the Blood-Mage’s slave. If she’d never met Isidro and Cam, Mira, Rhia and Anoa, then she might hav
e believed there was no other future for her, but now she knew otherwise — if only Kell was gone.
What if the Akharians failed to destroy him? He might retreat to Mesentreia rather than face them. If Kell cut his losses and fled, the Akharians wouldn’t bother to chase him — their only interest was in Ricalan. Of course, Kell would take Rasten with him. Rasten could no more deny his master than he could defeat him.
No one cared what happened to Rasten. All knew how Kell used him, but they said he deserved it, as punishment for the evils he’d done. No one cared if Rasten spent his life the plaything of a demented and sadistic old man.
She couldn’t deny that Rasten was a monster, and he probably deserved to die for his crimes … but if so, let it be a clean death. He’d suffered enough. Sierra knew that she could build herself a life after Kell, but what hope could Rasten have of a future in a world that despised him?
She shouldn’t care. It wasn’t her problem. And yet she couldn’t shake the image of him as a twelve-year-old boy, brought to Kell’s chamber after the slaughter of his family. What choice did he have but to become a monster to survive a monster? People said he should have died rather than turn on Kell’s other victims, but it was all but impossible to escape into death when a Blood-Mage wanted you alive. Sierra had seen the scars of his attempts, and knew Kell watched over him as closely as Delphine ever watched Isidro.
Rasten could not destroy Kell on his own, but with Sierra’s help? She trusted him to get the job done far more than she would ever trust the Akharians.
And that was the heart of the matter, wasn’t it? Despite the monster he was, despite all he’d done, on some level she trusted Rasten. He’d never lied to her, he’d always been there when she needed him, and he’d kept his word. If it came down to Rasten and the empire, she would trust Rasten at her back before she’d rely on any Akharian, no matter what they promised.