‘Don’t.’ The veteran caught his arm. The others all turned to him, shocked by their failure to save the heir when it had seemed they had the T’En warrior trapped.
‘I didn’t know silverheads could vanish like that,’ the youth protested.
‘No one knew.’
‘If they can vanish, why didn’t they save themselves when the mobs burned their warehouses?’
All the king’s guards looked to the veteran, but he didn’t have an answer. He wished he did, for now he would have to report to King Charald, who would order his execution.
He deserved it.
He’d failed his king. Worse, he had failed the little boy who’d looked to him for help.
Chapter Fifteen
IMOSHEN CAME TO her knees as the tension built. No one spoke. Vittoryxe watched, eyes bright, ready to say I told you so. Imoshen was going to prove the gift-tutor wrong. She gathered her gift, preparing to anchor Arodyti.
Without warning, Arodyti’s essence swamped Imoshen. Before her, in the centre of the circle, the naked T’En warrior appeared with a limp boy-child in her arms.
Real and solid, slick and warm, the boy fell into Imoshen’s lap. She thrust the unconscious prince into Egrayne’s arms and reached for Arodyti.
Too late.
Imoshen’s fingers barely registered resistance as they passed through Arodyti’s arm. Desperate, she threw herself forward, opening her gift to anchor her hand-of-force.
If Arodyti could return to this plane, she’d live.
Imoshen made Arodyti burn bright with power as she tried to anchor her friend, but at the same time the power summoned the ever-hungry predators, just as Vittoryxe had warned.
Refusing to give up, Imoshen channelled more power into the link, willing Arodyti to come through.
Exhaustion clouded Arodyti’s mind. The hand-of-force had overreached herself to deliver the boy.
Imoshen tried to force Arodyti to focus, but there was not enough of her friend left. The act of transposing Prince Cedon had taken its toll.
The empyrean beasts attacked.
Imoshen felt them tear Arodyti to shreds, felt it as if it was her own body being devoured, and there was nothing she could do.
The impact of their savagery tore at Imoshen. Her sense of self dissolved and she felt the deep cold of the empyrean plane in her bones.
Something struck Imoshen’s face. Shocked by the blow, she focused on her mortal body just as the calloused palm delivered another stinging slap. The impact rocked her head back and Imoshen tasted blood.
‘Have we lost her, too?’ Tiasarone whispered.
‘I told her this was too risky,’ Vittoryxe hissed. ‘Sheer arrogance!’
Imoshen was not about to give the gift-tutor the satisfaction of being proven right. Concentrating, she opened her eyes. The worried faces of her inner circle wavered in front of her.
‘Imoshen, can you hear me? Answer me,’ Egrayne commanded.
‘I’m all right.’ She lifted a hand to her mouth. Her fingers came away stained with blood. Egrayne had been as determined to save her as she had been to save Arodyti.
But she’d failed. She’d been so sure she could hold on.
Furious with herself, Imoshen pushed Egrayne away and went to rise. Her voice-of-reason hauled her to her feet so rapidly that she nearly lost her balance.
‘I told you, I’m fine.’ Imoshen stretched. Her body ached as if she had pushed herself to her physical limit. Mentally, she felt flat and lifeless. Her gift was drained and her senses dull. Something important nagged at her mind... Prince Cedon. She turned to her voice-of-reason. ‘The boy?’
‘Alive. Stunned, by the look of it,’ Egrayne reported. She gestured to Tiasarone. ‘Turn around so we can see his face.’
The old woman shifted to reveal the boy. His head rested on her shoulder, pewter lashes forming crescents on his pale cheeks, lips parted. So small and vulnerable; a pawn in the games of adults. Imoshen felt for him. ‘Take him straight to Reoden. Leave me now.’
The others went, all but her voice-of-reason.
‘Arodyti’s dead?’
Imoshen nodded. ‘And Sarosune, and the others. Four of our best, lost.’
‘You suggested transposition. I didn’t believe it possible, but we have King Charald’s heir. I only hope...’
‘We can trust Sorne’s judgement?’
Egrayne lifted her large hands in a shrug.
‘The king is onto his third wife in his quest for a healthy heir.’
Egrayne unhooked the incense laden lamp. ‘You’ll signal the king?’
‘Yes. We’ll send a message tonight. Tell him we wish to talk tomorrow at midday.’
Egrayne nodded.
‘We can show him the boy, but I don’t know how long it will take for news of the prince’s abduction to reach him. I doubt he’ll believe his own eyes until his people confirm it.’
‘When he does, you’ll bargain for safe passage to our ships?’ Egrayne asked.
‘We’ll keep the boy with us until we can make the exchange at the headlands.’
‘Leave our home, leave Chalcedonia...’ Lamplight sculpted Egrayne’s strong features. Her shoulders sagged as though weary with the enormity of it. ‘How can we abandon our heritage, Imoshen? How can you ask this of us?’
‘The T’Enatuath is not the Celestial City, it is the people,’ Imoshen insisted, fierce in her certainty. ‘We’ll take our heritage with us.’
Egrayne blinked, then hugged Imoshen. As she pulled back, her wine-dark eyes gleamed with tears. ‘I was right to nominate you for causare.’
Imoshen was touched, and more than a little ashamed. She did not want this responsibility. ‘Our sisters need to know how Arodyti and the others sacrificed themselves to bring us Prince Cedon.’ She was so exhausted, she slurred his name. It was hard to think. ‘We sent the boy to Ree. Her sisterhood–’
‘I’ll tell them. Go rest.’
Imoshen nodded.
‘After all,’ Egrayne’s lips twitched, ‘tomorrow not only do you have to bargain with King Charald, but you have to hold an all-council, reveal your plan for the prince, and eat humble pie because you acted without getting all-council approval.’
‘GUARD DUTY AGAIN.’ Haromyr complained to Tobazim. They’d been told to patrol the wall all the way from the causeway gate to Kyredeon’s palace.
‘At least we’re in charge.’
‘Only because it’s a feast night and everyone else is celebrating. Oriemn’s punishing you. And us with you.’
The hand-of-force had rostered on the Malaunje who had escaped from the winery with Tobazim and Learon, along with the warriors who had volunteered to help recover the trophy braids.
Tobazim’s gaze was drawn to the Mieren, who had started building two scaffolds this afternoon. He leant his elbows on the stonework to watch. The builders were working by lantern light at the end of the causeway. Even from this distance, the construction made his gift stir, as he sensed the stresses and weights. The drop was not high enough to break the victim’s neck. The urge to go down the causeway and make the necessary adjustments was very strong.
And completely irrational. ‘Those scaffolds...’
‘They must have attacked another of our estates and taken captives,’ Haromyr whispered, voice thick with anger, gift rising. ‘Then they brought them back here, just so they could mock us by hanging them at our city gates. What kind of people do that?’
‘It’s a calculated insult,’ Tobazim said.
‘You know...’ Haromyr leant closer. ‘They have to go to bed sometime. We could mount a sortie, burn the scaffolds.’
‘That’s the kind of talk that got Learon in trouble.’ It still hurt to say his name.
A woman’s voice called up to the wall-walk. They both crossed the city side of the gate defences to look down.
A T’En warrior stood directly below them, head tilted to look up. The distance was too great to make out the sisterhood symbol on her neck tor
c.
‘Who’s in charge here?’ she asked.
‘I am,’ Tobazim said.
‘The causare wants to meet with King Charald tomorrow at midday.’
Tobazim repressed a surge of fear at the mention of the causare. There had been no repercussions from the night they’d escorted Sorne to her, but it was always hanging over his head. On wrong word and Kyredeon would execute him.
‘We’ll send a message,’ Tobazim said, turning away. ‘Just in time. The scaffolds will be finished within a day.’
Haromyr handed him the lantern. He took it and signalled, until one of the builders ran off.
Soon, several men-at-arms ventured down the causeway in a pool of lantern light.
Tobazim gave the message to the men-at-arms.
‘How can the causare save our people from hanging?’ Haromyr whispered. ‘She has to have something to bargain with.’
Tobazim suspected Sorne had given her something to negotiate with, although why it had taken so long he didn’t know.
SORNE TOOK HIS usual place behind the king’s chair. It was spring cusp and the scaffolds would be completed sometime tomorrow. As the barons talked about Hanix’s death and how they hadn’t expected an old woman to be so cunning or powerful, he realised he could save the Malaunje captives from hanging.
His mind raced. Before dawn, when the sentries were tired, he could lead the old man and child down to the lake and send them across in the same rowboat he’d used, then come back to his tent, hit himself over the head and let the holy warriors find him incapacitated. This would make it appear as if he had underestimated the old man, just as the barons had underestimated the old woman.
The True-men would mock him, but they would not be surprised. It would undermine his position in the camp, and it was a subterfuge he could only use once, but he would use it if he had to.
A sentry arrived with a message.
‘Speak,’ Charald gestured, as though he was the most reasonable of kings and had never ordered a man whipped because he didn’t like the contents of a message.
‘The Wyrds want to talk, tomorrow at midday.’
The king gave a bark of laughter. ‘Knew the scaffolds would get to them. Now we watch them squirm.’
Had Imoshen captured the prince? Sorne looked down to hide his relief. Tomorrow, Imoshen would bargain for her people’s survival and save the two captives.
‘WHAT’S GOING ON?’ Athlyn asked, pointing to the Malaunje dancing on the palace rooftop. The spring cusp festivities had been subdued, but within the last few moments the pitch had changed. People shouted and hugged. Laughter rang on the air. ‘Has everyone gone mad?’
Tobazim cupped his hands and called across. ‘Why are you celebrating?’
Half a dozen of them called back, drowning each other out. Tobazim looked to Athlyn and shrugged. A moment later a pretty girl ran up the steps to the wall-walk.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’She threw her arms around Tobazim and kissed him.
‘Much as I appreciate the kiss,’ Tobazim said, putting her away from him, ‘what’s going on?’
She laughed. ‘The causare has kidnapped the Mieren king’s son, his only son. We’ll be able to stay. Everything will be all right!’
She planted another kiss on his surprised mouth and danced away.
Laughter and music filled the night. Despite the celebrations, Tobazim saw the flaw in the logic. The king would turn on them as soon as they handed the boy back to him. But perhaps there was more to it than that.
After their watch finished, Tobazim sought the saw-bones. He found him sewing up a cut on an initiate’s forehead.
‘Too much wine, not enough sense,’ Ceyne told the youth. ‘Now, go sleep it off.’
The initiate staggered away with his friends.
‘What’s going on?’ Tobazim asked, gesturing to the door to the courtyard, where the celebrations were still going strong. ‘Did the causare make an announcement?’
‘Not that I’ve heard.’ Ceyne packed his things away. ‘Someone said they saw the sisterhood Malaunje celebrating. Said the causare had kidnapped the king’s heir.’
‘Even if she did, we can’t stay here. The king would turn on us the moment we gave the boy back.’
Ceyne nodded.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s been a sober, cold winter living under the threat of death. This is spring and we hear that the causare has kidnapped the prince.’ Ceyne shrugged. ‘It’s a win for us. They’re celebrating because they need to.’
Chapter Sixteen
IMOSHEN SLEPT LATE, exhausted by the battle to save Arodyti, exhausted because she had woken during the night with the realisation that Arodyti’s gift essence had been consumed by empyrean predators, which meant Imoshen had sent her dear friend to the true death.
Today, Imoshen felt raw and fragile. She had barely dressed when Iraayel tapped on her door and entered without waiting for a reply.
‘Is it true you kidnapped Prince Cedon?’
‘Yes,’ Imoshen said. ‘And good morning to you, too.’ She glanced past him. ‘Where’s Egrayne? I sent for her.’
‘Saf told me Egrayne and the gift-tutor were up all night, trying to find the shades of the gift-warriors who died to get Arodyti into the palace nursery. They were trying to escort them to death’s realm.’
Imoshen nodded and went to speak, but laughter and singing drifted through the window, echoing up from the courtyard two floors below. Imoshen frowned. The festival had been yesterday; why were they still celebrating?
Frayvia came in from the nursery with little Umaleni on her hip. ‘What’s going on?’
‘They’re saying we won’t have to leave,’ Iraayel gestured to the courtyard window. ‘That you’ll use the prince to get King Charald to sign the accord again. But he’s broken it once already. As soon as you return his son, he’ll break it again.’
‘Yes, he would. But that’s not why I’ve taken the prince.’ Imoshen’s head swam. What had Egrayne told the rest of the sisters? Knowing Egrayne, it hadn’t been much, but clearly it had been just enough for rumours to spread. Annoyance flashed through Imoshen, stirring her gift.
‘Imoshen?’ Reoden came down the passage and saw her through the open door. ‘We can’t stay. King Charald still means to massacre us all. Nothing’s changed...’ She broke off as she swept into the room and realised Imoshen wasn’t alone.
‘What?’ Iraayel whispered. ‘Is it true?’
She nodded. ‘Exile was never the Mieren king’s goal. He wants to wipe out our people.’
‘What kind of man does that?’ Iraayel took a step back. ‘And how could you lie to me?’
‘I lied to everyone. Think it through, Iraayel. How could I reveal that King Charald planned to massacre us on the road to port, when we had no hope? People would despair. Now–’
‘Now they think they can stay here.’ Anger made Iraayel’s gift rise.
‘They can’t stay here, and I don’t know how the rumour got started.’ Imoshen knew his anger wasn’t directed at her, more their situation, but even so it made her uncomfortable. Umaleni whimpered and held out her arms. Frayvia handed the infant over to Imoshen. Meanwhile the celebration continued in the courtyard.
‘They’re not thinking clearly.’ Frustration welled up in Imoshen. ‘Why can’t they see the logic flaw?’
‘They’re fooling themselves because they want to believe King Charald is a reasonable man.’ Reoden shrugged. ‘My people are the same. I worked on the prince, then fell into bed exhausted. When I woke up, I found all the sisterhoods celebrating.’
‘I’ll have to call the all-mothers,’ Imoshen said. ‘Then...’ She looked up in horror. ‘What if the brotherhoods–’
‘All-mother?’ Gift-warrior Kiane spoke as she came down the passage towards Imoshen’s private chamber. ‘The all-mothers have arrived. I put them downstairs in your formal greeting chamber.’
‘Good. Tell my inner circle to–’
&
nbsp; ‘And the all-fathers are at the sisterhood gate, demanding to see you.’
‘That’s bad,’ Reoden whispered.
‘No, it’s good. I’ll tell everyone, at once. Kiane, escort the all-fathers to the formal greeting chamber.’
‘Bring them inside the sisterhood quarter?’ She was horrified. ‘No adult T’En man has stepped inside our gate in over three hundred years.’
‘We haven’t faced the destruction of our people in over three hundred years. Now, go. Tell Egrayne to come to me; I name you my hand-of-force.’
Kiane blinked.
Imoshen pressed her hands to her mouth, fighting an irrational urge to laugh. Taking a deep breath, she started again. ‘I’m sorry, Kiane. But I have to meet King Charald at midday and I’m running out of time. Will you be my hand-of-force?’
‘I would be honoured,’ the gift-warrior said, but Imoshen could tell she was annoyed by the manner of her elevation. Kiane gave Imoshen the correct obeisance, then left to organise things.
In a very short time, Egrayne joined her and Imoshen took Kiane’s oath. As they went down to the formal greeting chamber, Imoshen noted how quiet the sisterhood was. The arrival of a large group of powerful T’En men had startled Malaunje and T’En alike. She was aware of people watching from doorways, whispering.
‘I don’t understand why we couldn’t meet the all-fathers and their seconds in the empowerment dome like always,’ Egrayne whispered.
‘Because that would have entailed sending them away and irritated them further. Because by inviting them into the sisterhood quarter, I’ve unsettled them. This is an extraordinary day, and I have taken an extraordinary action. Also, here in the palace, I have the advantage. Follow my lead.’ Imoshen swept into the formal greeting chamber.
Late morning sunshine came through the tall, multi-paned glass doors, which stood open onto the courtyard beyond. The floor was white marble. The decorative cornices were picked out in silver, and silver sculptures gleamed in wall niches. The room had been designed as a backdrop for T’En colouring, and Imoshen had changed into a magenta robe to match her eyes and, other than her sisterhood torc, wore only silver and diamond jewellery.
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