‘It is now.’ Tears slid down Reoden’s cheeks.
‘Oh, Ree.’ Imoshen took her in her arms and kissed them away. They had been lovers and would be again, one day. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘The shame–’
‘The shame?’ Imoshen could not believe her ears. ‘If anyone should be shamed, it’s Kyredeon’s men, for killing an innocent child!’
AS TOBAZIM FINISHED his exercises, he glanced over to Learon. Every evening his choice-brother came to him with complaints about the hand-of-force. Tonight it had been the way Oriemn belittled initiates when they made mistakes in training. He claimed it undermined their confidence. While Tobazim agreed, there was nothing they could do. He’d hoped the challenging exercise patterns would help Learon bring his mind, body and gift into balance.
But his choice-brother’s expression was grim.
Learon picked up a cloth to rub his face. ‘How can a young initiate learn when he’s afraid of his teacher?’ He tossed the cloth away. ‘When we lived in the winery, I dreamed of coming to the city and winning stature. It all seemed so simple then. All we had to do was slip into a rival brotherhood palace and steal their banner to prove ourselves to the hand-of-force.’
‘True.’ Tobazim looked around for something to distract him, and noticed activity on the all-father’s rooftop garden, across the other side of the courtyard from them. ‘What’s going on there?’
Under the brotherhood’s banner, two Malaunje had constructed a tent with brocade trim and gauze curtains. Others arrived bringing a couch, two braziers, and a low table set with wines and delicacies.
‘Looks like they’re building a trysting bower,’ Learon said.
‘That’s right, I heard Kyredeon had taken a new lover. Guess he’s planning on moon bathing. It’s supposed to enhance the gift when trysting. But,’ Tobazim gestured to the sky, ‘both moons are new and there’s too much cloud.’
Learon didn’t comment. The Malaunje finished constructing the bower then went downstairs.
‘I bet Oriemn was furious when Saskeyne’s warriors beat him to the trophy braids,’ Tobazim said again.
‘Serves him right. Stealing my idea.’
As they turned to head downstairs, Learon signalled for silence and pointed. A warrior crept across the rooftop garden. Another warrior followed him, keeping low, dashing from raised garden bed to bed.
‘Are they ours?’ Tobazim whispered.
‘It’ll be a rival brotherhood trying to steal our banner. Bet they’re Saskeyne’s adepts. Come on.’
‘Wait, Lear.’
But he’d already taken off down the stairs.
Tobazim followed close on Learon’s heels, so close that he sensed his choice-brother’s eager gift. The palace was a warren of passages and courtyards. But Learon knew his way and did not hesitate. His long legs ate up the stairs, taking them three at a time, until he reached Kyredeon’s private rooftop garden.
‘Wait.’ Tobazim caught up with him before he stepped outside. He could feel Learon’s gift close to the surface. ‘We should tell someone.’
‘This is our chance to win stature. Turn the flat of your blade. Grab their arm-torcs, if you can.’ If they took the other brotherhood’s arm-torcs, the warriors would have to come back to retrieve them. Their humiliation would add to Tobazim and Learon’s stature. Learon stepped out. ‘Come on.’
Tobazim followed him.
A lantern burned in the bower, but the rest of the rooftop garden was dim. Empty raised garden beds dotted the area. At first glance, Tobazim could not spot the warriors.
Learon grabbed a rake and charged. ‘Caught you!’
As the other brotherhood warrior sprang to his feet, Tobazim saw a flash of blade; that wasn’t right. Although warriors could end up with broken bones, banner-stealing was not meant to cost lives.
The warrior deflected the rake with his first blade and lunged for Learon’s throat with his second.
The attack was furious. Learon staggered backwards as he struggled to bring the rake around and into play.
Stunned, Tobazim was about to help him, when he caught movement in the side of his vision. He dodged instinctively. A blade whistled past his ear.
On the back foot, Tobazim edged away, fighting to control his gift. His attacker glanced behind Tobazim, who sensed another man’s gift. Just in time, he threw himself sideways. Rolling across a garden bed, he came to his feet near Learon, grabbed a shovel and brought the end up.
Four warriors surrounded them. A patch of moonlight fell across their faces. Tobazim did not recognise them, and he thought he knew all of Saskeyne’s young adepts by sight, if not by name. These were not hot-headed young brotherhood warriors out to strike a blow for stature.
‘Who are they?’ Tobazim whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Learon muttered. ‘But they’re not here to steal the banner.’
With that, Learon charged his two assailants, swinging the rake like a scythe; they scattered. He brought the blunt end up, driving it forward in the classic staff attack. It took one of the warriors in the chest, sending him sprawling.
He returned to protect Tobazim’s back. Learon was a master-adept of both armed and unarmed combat; Tobazim was not.
Two more intruders darted out from the shadows, making six in total. Tobazim’s gift leapt to his defence. He forced it down. As the intruders came closer, there was no yelling, no bravado, just deadly intent in their movements. They divided up, so that Tobazim and Learon each faced three attackers.
Tobazim did not like their chances.
‘These are not them,’ one of the intruders said.
‘Too late. Kill them anyway. Then hide.’ He sounded like someone who was used to giving orders and dealing in death.
Tobazim wanted to protest. They were all T’En. It did not feel right, fighting his own kind when thousands of Mieren besieged their city.
‘Quickly,’ the leader urged.
Tobazim flinched. He didn’t want to die like this. He’d never had the chance to win stature with his gift, never trysted with a T’En woman, never known love...
Behind him, Learon grunted with effort as he diverted a strike.
The warrior on Tobazim’s left darted in, trying to get around to his back. Tobazim remembered his old weapons-master telling him the weakest fighter always attacks from behind: deal with him quickly, then concentrate on the ones that come in from the front.
Tobazim swung the shovel at the knife-hand that arced towards him, smashing the man’s hand and breaking bones. The blade went flying as the momentum of Tobazim’s strike carried the intruder around, taking his second knife out of striking range.
Tobazim stepped in behind him. With his free hand, he caught the man’s shoulder and pulled him backwards, slamming him on the ground.
The fallen man’s companion stepped in front to protect him.
Tobazim cursed. What was he thinking? He should have brained the one he’d just taken down. This was not weapons practice.
He edged closer to Learon. They must not get separated. Meanwhile, he tried to keep his attackers moving so that one impeded the other.
The intruders’ leader moved to one side to allow one of his companions to come at Tobazim, who shortened the arc of the shovel and drove it forward for the man’s throat. It sank in, hitting something hard. The warrior went down. A horrible gargling sound came from his crushed throat as he struggled for breath.
Ignoring the downed man, Tobazim faced the leader.
The leader was a canny older warrior who circled him, then came in, moving so fast that Tobazim couldn’t get the shovel around in time.
Darting back, he tripped over a body. As he went down, a long-knife passed within a finger’s breadth of his throat. He just had time to realise he was a dead man when he hit the tiles and the wind was knocked out of him.
Beyond his attacker, Tobazim saw All-father Kyredeon, his hand-of-force and a Malaunje woman step out of the stairwell. Seeing the altercation, she darted ba
ck.
The attackers’ leader turned towards the newcomers.
Hand-of-force Oriemn drew his long-knives, tossed one to Kyredeon and stepped between his all-father and the intruders. Three of the four remaining intruders went to deal with the new threat.
Learon had lost the rake somehow and was now facing a warrior with nothing but his fists.
Tobazim rolled to his knees. Noticing the gleam of a blade on the tiles, he grabbed the hilt and sprang to his feet to help Learon. He was in time to see his choice-brother break the intruder’s neck and spring to help Kyredeon’s hand-of-force, pulling one of the intruders off Oriemn’s back.
All-father Kyredeon had snatched a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around his forearm, and was using it as a shield to deflect the blades, while striking with his own knife.
Tobazim darted in, looking for a target. He saw an intruder with a knife in one hand, hugging his broken hand to his chest, and knew it was the one he had failed to kill. This time, Tobazim came at him from behind, caught him around the throat and drove the knife between his ribs, straight into his heart.
It was up close and intimate; it was one of his own people and it was nothing like killing one of the Mieren. Tobazim felt the other’s gift flare as it tried to protect him. Skin on skin, the sudden rush of power stunned him.
He let the man drop and stepped back.
Then he swayed as reality wavered and he was nearly drawn through to the higher plane with the warrior’s departing shade.
He shook his head to clear it.
The leader of the intruders had thrown off Learon’s bear hug. Now he sprang for Kyredeon. Unbalanced, Learon staggered backwards into Tobazim and they both went down.
Tobazim just had time to turn the long-knife so his choice-brother didn’t end up with the blade between his ribs, but he couldn’t prevent Learon from clipping his head on the side of a raised flower bed as they fell.
Trapped under his stunned choice-brother, Tobazim struggled to throw Learon off.
Meanwhile, Tobazim heard the sharp grunts and ragged breathing of vicious fighting. With a heave, he pushed Learon to one side and came to his feet, standing over his fallen choice-brother, ready to defend him.
But all the attackers were down.
Oriemn and Kyredeon straightened up. The pall of gift aggression hung on the still air, making Tobazim’s heart race.
Hand-of-force Oriemn rolled one of the intruders onto his back. ‘This one’s dead.’ He gestured to Tobazim. ‘Get the lamp.’
Tobazim returned from the trysting bower in a halo of golden light. Oriemn took the lamp from him to inspect the dead T’En warriors.
Kyredeon had been bent double catching his breath. Now he straightened, unwound the blanket from his arm and tossed it aside. ‘Who is it?’
‘No idea.’
‘Which brotherhood?’
‘They’re not wearing arm-torcs.’
Kyredeon spat in disgust.
Oriemn stepped over a body and rolled one of the intruders onto his back. On seeing the leader, Kyredeon tensed.
But Oriemn missed his all-father’s reaction as he turned the last one over and looked up to Kyredeon expectantly.
‘No idea,’ the all-father said, and if Tobazim hadn’t seen that flicker of recognition, he would have believed him.
Tobazim’s legs felt as if they might give way. He took a step back and dropped to sit on the edge of a flower bed.
Learon groaned, as he sat up carefully.
Oriemn turned the lamp towards them. ‘What were you two doing up here?’
Tobazim gestured to the nearby roof garden. ‘We were exercising, when we saw–’
‘Do you recognise any of them?’ Oriemn asked.
‘No.’ Tobazim licked his lips. ‘They were after the all-father.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Kyredeon demanded.
‘One of them said, “these are not them,” but their leader said to kill us anyway. This is All-father Kyredeon’s private rooftop garden and his bower has been set up. Naturally, I thought–’
‘No one asked you think.’ Kyredeon cut him off. ‘You should have reported to the hand-of-force, not come up here alone.’
‘You’re right,’ Tobazim admitted. ‘We only saw two of them and thought–’
‘You would win stature,’ Oriemn finished for him. ‘You nearly got us all killed.’
Learon rolled to his feet, swaying a little. He was bigger than the hand-of-force and the other two stepped back.
‘At first we thought they were Saskeyne’s warriors, come to steal our banner,’ Learon said, rubbing the back of his head. ‘That’s why we didn’t tell anyone. But they were assassins.’
Kyredeon waved him to silence, turning away.
In the pause, Tobazim asked softly, ‘How are you doing?’
‘Head’s thumping fit to burst. What about you?’
‘Alive.’ He glanced to the palace wall, about a bowshot away. The brothers on patrol were watching the lake, unaware of what had passed.
‘What’ll we do with the bodies?’ Oriemn asked.
A thought struck Tobazim. ‘Do you want me to search them, see if anything identifies their brotherhood?’
Kyredeon shook his head. ‘No point. They took off their arm-torcs. They won’t have anything to identify them.’
At that moment one of the dead men behind Kyredeon rolled to his feet, lifted his long-knife and went to stab the all-father between the ribs. Learon reacted instantly, catching him and diverting the strike.
Oriemn thrust his all-father aside and turned to deal with the attacker, but Learon already had him restrained.
‘A gift-trick to mimic death,’ Tobazim marvelled.
‘Who sent you to kill our all-father?’ Oriemn demanded. ‘Was it Saskeyne? Dretsun? Hueryx?’
The assassin did not reply.
‘You’ll get nothing from him,’ Kyredeon said. ‘He’s cut his hair. He’s already dead.’
Tobazim realised they all had.
‘Shall I kill him?’ Oriemn asked.
‘No. Put his eyes out and turn him out of the palace. Let our warriors hunt him for sport.’ Kyredeon clearly relished the idea. ‘That will deliver a message to those who sent him.’
Oriemn moved in, hands lifting to the assassin’s face, thumbs ready to gouge out his eyes. Tobazim felt sick and Learon opened his mouth to protest. Taking advantage of Learon’s momentary distraction, the assassin slipped free. He head-butted Oriemn and lunged between the two big warriors, heading straight towards Tobazim.
Before Tobazim knew what was happening, the assassin had grabbed the blade from him. Their eyes met and Tobazim looked into the face of death. He fully expected to die. But then he saw mercy in death’s eyes.
The assassin darted past him, backing away, holding the long-knife ready.
Oriemn straightened up, sucking in his breath noisily. Kyredeon and Learon both moved to encircle the intruder.
‘May your brotherhood wither and fade, Kyredeon. May you never sleep easy in your bed, Kyredeon,’ the assassin said. ‘May you die having looked long and hard into your own blighted soul, Kyredeon. May your shade be devoured by empyrean beasts, Kyredeon.’ Then he lifted the blade and sliced his throat open.
It was the warrior’s honourable suicide. He fell, making horrible choking noises, the blood bubbling from the wound.
Tobazim shuddered. At the same time, admiration warmed him. It was better to die whole and defiant, than maimed and hunted for sport by a rival brotherhood.
But questions remained unanswered. Who had sent the assassins, and why had Kyredeon pretended not to recognise their leader?
The hand-of-force rounded on them. ‘Since you are so keen to fight for the brotherhood, you can relieve the guards on the ruined palace wall.’
Tobazim gulped. In Kyredeon’s brotherhood you did not refuse an order. But tonight, he and Learon had killed several T’En. The warriors’ shades would come after them and try to
drag them onto the higher plane.
‘They’ll come for us,’ he blurted.
‘Don’t worry. They won’t be coming for you,’ Kyredeon said and Tobazim realised the assassination attempt wasn’t over. The shades of these warriors would try to drag the all-father onto the higher plane, where they might even sacrifice their own chance to reach death’s realm, to ensure that Kyredeon’s essence was devoured by empyrean predators. Now he understood the depth of the assassin’s curse.
Tobazim glanced to Learon, who looked as though he had just reached the same conclusion. ‘I see.’
‘You see nothing.’ Kyredeon’s gaze fixed on him and Learon. ‘You saw nothing. This never happened. Understood?’
They nodded.
‘Swear on your brotherhood vow,’ Oriemn insisted.
They knelt before Kyredeon and swore to silence.
‘Now, go patrol the wall,’ Oriemn dismissed them.
As Tobazim left the rooftop garden, everything felt unreal. He had fought alongside Kyredeon and his hand-of-force, but he had to wonder what had provoked the assassination attempt.
As Learon entered the stairwell someone hurtled at him. He caught his assailant and swung them up against the wall.
‘It’s me,’ Paravia gasped.
Learon groaned and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms. She kissed him eagerly.
‘I thought you were going to die,’ she whispered. On tip toes, she planted kisses on his chin and throat. ‘I thought I’d never hold you again.’
Learon lifted her off the ground the better to kiss her, his gift rising in reaction to the danger and the promise of trysting.
‘Lear,’ Tobazim protested. ‘Not now.’
‘Not ever,’ Oriemn said, from the rooftop entrance to the stairwell. ‘Get your hands off her.’
Tobazim felt cold as he realised who Kyredeon’s new lover was.
‘What business is it of yours–’ Learon said, reaching for his weapon.
‘Don’t you dare draw your blade against me,’ the hand-of-force said, although from his tone, there was nothing he’d like better. Oriemn let his gift rise, laced with threat and aggression.
‘Lear...’ Paravia caught his forearm. ‘It’s all right. I don’t mind.’
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