01 - The Compass Rose

by Gail Dayton

  “Naitan!” Torchay’s alarmed shout brought Kallista running to the room where her supposed godmarked companion had retreated.

  Stone lay on the bed, limp and breathing hard, as if he’d been running a race. Joh looked up from beside him, accusation in his eyes. “What did you do? He went into convulsions not long after I closed the door.”

  “I—nothing.” How could she explain without admitting she spoke to ghosts? The Reinine knew, but she’d kept the words between them quiet. None of the others in the room could have heard, and Kallista wanted it kept that way. West magic, if that was indeed what they were dealing with, disturbed too many people. “I went to the window to—take care of things. A false alarm, I’m afraid. That’s all.”

  “He seems all right now,” Torchay said, checking the man’s pulse, his eyes, his heart.

  “Khralsh.” Stone groaned, sitting up. “Whatever you did, woman, don’t do it again. I feel as if every muscle in my body has been wrenched apart.”

  “She is a naitan,” Torchay snarled, “and a captain in the Adaran army. You will address her as naitan and speak to her with respect.”

  Kallista waited for Stone to respond to Torchay’s reprimand. She understood Stone’s attitude—he was Tibran, after all, and had been through much—but he needed to learn that things worked differently in Adara. He would have to adapt.

  Stone glared at Torchay, then looked at Kallista. After a moment, he nodded. “Naitan,” he said. “Pardon my rudeness.”

  “Granted. Now, we need to discover what happened so we can prevent it happening again.”

  Torchay stood. “You seem fine now. Your heart is beating a little fast, but slowing.”

  “You’re a healer?” Stone asked with more respect than he had accorded Kallista.

  “I’m a bodyguard,” he said, as if that explained everything. Which it did, but perhaps not to a Tibran. Torchay crossed to Kallista, drawing closer than she expected. She held her breath as he lowered his face toward hers, then realized his intent and tilted her head so he could speak quietly into her ear. “Could Belandra have caused his fit?”

  It was a tempting theory. The problem with it was—“Belandra was in the room before I sent everyone away. He was fine then.” Kallista offered Stone her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it—no magic stirred—and she pulled him to his feet. Joh stepped in to provide needed support.

  They moved into the parlor for more room and sat Stone on a sofa in the middle of the chamber just outside the bedroom door, facing the window. One step at a time, carefully watching the Tibran’s every reaction, Kallista backed toward the window. She’d taken perhaps a dozen steps when Stone’s eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. Joh kept him from hitting his head on the serving table as Kallista hurriedly took a step forward. Stone’s eyes fluttered open and he struggled to sit up.

  “Well,” she said, “that settles that. Torchay, send Aisse to find someone to have dinner brought up. We won’t be joining the court tonight.” She gauged the distance between herself and the godmarked man. Maybe ten paces. Half the length of the narrow central chamber.

  “Why not?” Joh watched her as she closed the distance.

  “Because I can’t go farther than ten paces from Stone without sending him into convulsions and I’m not taking him along to dine in the great hall loaded down with chains. He’s a Tibran prisoner, but he’s also a soldier. I won’t put him on display for the court’s amusement like some trained monkey.”

  She’d seen monkeys. Southron traders sometimes brought them through Turysh on their way to become a spoiled rich man’s pet.

  Joh inclined his head, his face holding an expression Kallista did not know how to interpret. Wonder? Surprise? Respect?

  “Besides,” she went on, looking over Stone’s grimy prisoner’s garb. “His wardrobe needs some improvement before he’s fit for such surroundings.”

  “He can’t sleep in that room,” Joh said as Torchay returned. “Not if you’re in the opposite end.”

  Torchay sighed. “Take the next chamber. Move the beds against the shared wall. The rooms aren’t large, but even if they were, that would serve. Aisse can move across the way.”

  That reminded Kallista of something. “Lieutenant, inform your troops not to bother my servant. Young ones sometimes have trouble recognizing when their attentions aren’t wanted. And you, Tibran—” She fastened her glare on the yellow-haired man. “If you don’t understand it already, I’ll explain it to you now. This is Adara. Not Tibre. Women are off limits to you. No sex, understand? Unless someone approaches you, you’ll do without.”

  “I must—” Stone seemed to struggle for words. “Provide service to them?”

  “Only if you wish.” Kallista should have expected his misunderstanding. According to what Aisse had told her, anyone with power could demand any service from one without. And Stone had no power here. “If one asks, you may say yes or no. But you may not ask. And you will not demand. This includes my servant.”

  “Make demands in these?” He held up the chains, rattling them at her. “I hadn’t intended to.”

  “Good.” Kallista looked yearningly at the doorway to the room Torchay had chosen as theirs. She was tired. She could rest until dinner came. But she would drag Stone behind her on an invisible ten-pace chain.

  “Let’s have those off.” She gestured at the steel shackles Stone wore.

  “Is that wise?” Joh asked before Torchay could.

  “He’s obviously not going anywhere. Ten paces from me and he collapses.”

  Stone scowled at her as Joh got out his key. Was it the thought of the magical tether he didn’t like, or her? Did it matter?

  “And if he takes you prisoner?” Torchay said in a low angry voice, quiet so only she could hear, as if afraid of giving Stone ideas. “If he takes you along on his escape attempt?”

  Kallista patted Torchay’s shoulder. “That’s what I have you for. Besides, where is he going to go? We’re days from the coast and other Tibrans. Weeks, if he travels on foot.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  She sighed. “Fine. You’re in charge of safety. But at least let him be rid of some of them.”

  Torchay left him in the manacles, with a short chain leading from his wrists to the one around his waist, limiting his reach. The leg irons came off.

  Dinner came and went, better food than even the wonderful meals they’d had in their previous quarters. Servants brought their belongings, then moved furniture under Torchay’s direction. After that, Kallista retreated to her room and collapsed in the bed. She woke sometime in the night to the sound of the tower clocks chiming. Something was strange, someone moving around.

  “Torchay?”

  “I’m here,” he replied from beside the door. “I heard Joh checking on his troops. Go back to sleep.”

  “Are you—”

  “I’m taking the cot. Your breathing is fine.”

  Belandra had said so. Kallista was glad Torchay slept across the room now. She was. But she missed him lying next to her. Missed his warmth. Missed his presence. She put her hand over her mouth to keep from telling him so. Things were hard enough as they were. She turned over and told herself to go back to sleep. But it was a long time before she dozed.

  It was nearing noon before Joh managed to go back to the little Black Briar Chapel in Winterhold Palace. The black-robed figure awaited him, seeming to quiver with suppressed anger.

  “You’re late,” he growled in his disguised voice. “I summoned you last night and you send excuses. I summon you today and you are late. This is unacceptable, Renunciate.”

  “I have my duties, Master.” Joh tried not to sound as if he resented the reprimand, though he did. “And I am quartered now with a naitan. Her bodyguard wakes at the slightest sound. I cannot slip away in the night. The best I can do is to stretch errands, and even now I haven’t much time. What is it you require of me?”

  “You are to watch this naitan in addition t
o your previous assignment. There is disturbing talk coming out of Ukiny. This is the woman who cast the dark magic?”

  “Yes, Master Barb.”

  “West magic indeed, though she masquerades as North naitan. We must know more. We must know everything. Tell me what happened after you retired with her yesterday.”

  “I haven’t enough time,” Joh protested.

  “Then write it down. You’re producing reports for the army, are you not? Write one for the Order as well. A simple thing.”

  “Yes, Honorable One.” The writing would help him sort his thoughts, understand what was happening. He could decide later how much to share with the Order. The thought made him feel disloyal, but he had other loyalties.

  “Good, then we are agreed.” A black sleeve waved in dismissal and Joh took his chance, slipping away from the eerie place.

  The captain’s magic made him nervous, especially the prisoner’s fits every time he got too far from her. Despite it all, Joh liked her. She treated him like an officer, not merely a man. She even showed respect for the Tibran, something few would do. He just wished she would keep her gloves on.

  The Reinine sent for Kallista in the late afternoon of the next day. Because she couldn’t leave Stone behind, the summons became a major expedition, only Aisse remaining behind in the suite. Erunde, acting as escort again today, led them not to the throne room, but to Evening Glow Tower, not far from Daybright Tower where they were quartered. Kallista was glad they’d left the leg irons off Stone. The four flights of stairs would have been endless with him shackled.

  High Steward Huryl met them outside a set of doors set with copper and silver, carved with scenes from Adara’s history. He refused to admit anyone besides Kallista and Torchay, whereupon Kallista requested he relay a message to the Reinine. Huryl refused to do that as well. The “discussion” had deteriorated to a stare-down when one of the Reinine’s bodyguards put his head out the door.

  “What’s keeping the—oh, you’re here.” He opened the door wide. “Come in, then. She’s waiting.”

  “She wants to bring the Tibran inside,” Huryl interjected, his voice an ugly hiss.

  The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because he convulses if he gets more than ten paces from me,” Kallista said, holding tight to her patience.

  The bodyguard’s expression didn’t change.

  Patience evaporated. “Can you endure a demonstration?” she asked Stone.

  He sighed and nodded. Joh took hold of his arms as Kallista turned and walked away. She’d reached the stairwell, a pace or two farther than yesterday, before Stone collapsed in Joh’s grip. She hesitated there a moment, then returned.

  “I’ll inform the Reinine.” The guard disappeared inside the room, reappeared a moment later and beckoned, ordering the quarto of soldiers to remain outside.

  Torchay, Stone and Joh were left with a bodyguard near the door while the other escorted Kallista to the Reinine who was sitting at a large desk near the window. Stone collapsed again when she got halfway and had to be moved farther into the room as Kallista advanced.

  “Interesting,” Serysta Reinine said when Kallista had bowed. She stood and came from behind the desk, gesturing Kallista into one of a pair of comfortable-looking high-backed chairs as she took the other. Kallista felt strange, sitting in her Reinine’s presence, but she did as she was bid.

  “According to every record I have been able to trace,” Serysta Reinine said without preamble, “it is virtually certain that you and the Tibran are godmarked. You have been chosen by the One to fulfill a task protecting Adara, or Adara’s people.”

  Kallista allowed the Reinine to tell her the things Belandra had already shared, half listening.

  “Therefore, since it is evident that it is to Adara’s benefit to assist you in your task, whatever it is, I am placing our resources at your disposal. I would like to have the wedding as soon as possible.”

  “Weddi—wait, what wedding?” Kallista had missed something.

  The Reinine smiled. “I wondered whether you were listening to everything I said. The records state a number of times over that the godstruck and her companions are joined in an ilian. Therefore, the warrior Stone will become your ilias. He will marry di pentivas.” She used the ancient term for a male captured in war and claimed as a prize.

  “The laws allowing this have never been repealed though no one practices the ritual anymore. They will prove useful in this. And I thought, to make up a proper ilian, your bodyguard and the Tibran woman might be willing to join with you. They are not marked, but I believe they have been called by the One to serve. You may decide regarding them, whether to offer them the choice. But I want you and the Tibran married within the week.”

  Kallista stared at her ruler, stunned at the outrageousness of the idea. In centuries past, the Reinine had often ordered strangers to wed, usually to end quarrels between prinsipalities, occasionally for other reasons. But society had progressed beyond that. She forced herself to think. “But…why marry? Why an ilian?”

  “The records were not perfectly clear, but I believe it is because the marked ones must join so closely together. They must be bound closer than an ordinary working relationship, as close as iliasti. They must care for each other.”

  “How can strangers—”

  “The One can do whatever we allow. We are His hands in this world.”

  Kallista had to clear her mind and think this through, understand what was ordered without the little voice cheering in the background at the thought of claiming Torchay as ilias. She was a soldier, sworn to obey her Reinine, but this went far beyond anything she’d ever expected. “You truly believe this is the best course of action?” She risked the question.

  “I do. I realize this comes as something of a shock to you. I will allow you to inform your future mates. But do not take too long. I am receiving reports daily from the coast that alarm me.” Serysta Reinine stood and Kallista scrambled quickly to her own feet. “Today is Fifthday. I would like to have the wedding by next Thirdday.”

  Kallista gathered up the men with a glance as she passed on the way out of the Reinine’s private chamber. The quarto fell in outside the doorway, Erunde waiting to guide them back to their suite. Kallista didn’t speak. She couldn’t, didn’t know what to say, and none of the others spoke either.

  Back in Noonday Suite, Kallista walked straight through the parlor to the window, followed by the three men who’d come with her. “Give me some space, Torchay,” she said quietly, hands clasped tight behind her back as she stared out at the towers and courtyards of the palace complex. “I need room to think. If you could move everyone back five paces or so?”

  “What happened in there?” Torchay stood too close, head bent to speak privately to her. “What upset you?”

  “Let me think first.” She smiled at him, let herself touch his arm. “I swear I will tell you. But I need to sort it out in my mind first.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Torchay nodded and moved away, taking Stone and Joh with him. And for the rest of the evening, Kallista paced and thought. Or tried to think.

  When dinner came, she joined the others for the meal, insisting that Aisse join Torchay, Stone and Joh at her table while the other ranks ate together near the door. Kallista contributed nothing to the minimal dinner conversation. She was too busy thinking. Afterward, she retreated to the window again.

  She had always wanted an ilian, a normal life, but this scarcely qualified as normal. Despite Mother Dardra’s teasing, she’d never allowed herself to think of making Torchay her ilias. Such a truncated, half-formed ilian with only the two of them would have emphasized how pathetic the attempt was, and finding additional mates had always been impossible. Until recently, she’d never believed Torchay willing. He might not be willing now.

  Ilias was not the same as lover. He would have to give up his flirtations. But the thought of her band around his ankle was the only appealing one in this whole mes
s.

  The Reinine had ordered her to marry a Tibran. She wanted her to marry two Tibrans. Wouldn’t Torchay just love that? Aisse scarcely counted as Tibran, given how much she hated the country and customs of her birth, but Stone was a warrior and a prisoner of war. One of the enemy. He was also godmarked.

  His mark, so nearly matching her own, meant they were bound already. Bound closer than iliasti. Did that mean they had to become iliasti? For any reason other than the Reinine’s order, that is? Was she actually considering defying it? Refusing to marry? Would it change the reality of the magic if she did? And who else would suffer the consequences?

  Torchay watched his naitan stare out the window. She’d been tearing herself apart all evening over whatever the Reinine had said, and it was all he could do to leave her to it. She knew he would help her in any way he could, but apparently, he could not help with this.

  The clocks chimed again and yet again, and still his captain stared out the window. Aisse retired to the room she had claimed. The guards set their watch at the door, those not on duty closed in their rooms. The lieutenant yawned over a castle board, attempting to teach the prisoner to play queens-and-castles. But the Tibran seemed even more tired than his keeper, his head propped on shackled hands. Torchay realized then that the Tibran’s assigned bedroom was too far from Kallista’s position at the window. He would collapse before he reached it.

  Kallista had given up her occasional pacing more than an hour ago to sit in one of the overdecorated chairs and stare at the darkened courtyards below, and she showed no signs of moving. She would fall asleep there if no one acted, and it was Torchay’s duty to act.

  He crossed the room and sat in a chair facing her. “It’s late.” He pitched his voice low to keep from startling her. “You should sleep. The problem will still be there in the morning.”

  She turned slowly toward him, her expression blank, almost as if her face had become granite. “I am to marry, Torchay.”