‘You shouldn’t have been attacked in port,’ Tobazim said. ‘Since we’ve agreed to exile–’
‘Exile?’ Ionnyn repeated, shocked.
Ardonyx nodded to Tobazim. ‘Go on.’
‘Since we’ve agreed to exile, messengers can leave our city and refugees from the outlying estates are still trickling in. You would have been safe travelling on the road.’
‘I thought my ships were safe in the harbour.’
Tobazim conceded his point. Taking into account the weathering of sea life, Ardonyx was no more than ten years older than him, perhaps a little taller and of a slighter build. There was something faintly foreign about his manner, as if he’d been too long in strange lands.
‘Where are our women and children right now?’ the same Malaunje sailor asked. ‘I must know if my family survived.’
‘Of course.’ Tobazim sympathised. ‘Come this way. But first, I have to deliver you to the all-father.’
He led them out of the boat-house, through the ruined palace. When they saw the extent of the damage, they were shattered.
‘You said the Mieren came in through our brotherhood’s palace?’ Ardonyx walked beside him. ‘Surely someone heard the fighting. Why didn’t anyone come to our aid?’
‘It was winter’s cusp, a feast night. No one realised Chariode’s brotherhood was under attack until it was too late.’ Tobazim was ashamed to admit the truth.
He led them out onto the street, along to the entrance of Kyredeon’s brotherhood, where the courtyard was bright with lanterns. Laughter, music and song echoed down from the windows and balconies, contrasting with the sober attitude of Captain Ardonyx and his surviving crew.
Tobazim felt for Ardonyx. Not only had he lost his friends, men he had known since he joined the brotherhood at seventeen, but he would now lose his ranking and have to work his way up again. He must have been well-respected to lead a voyage of discovery.
‘You say the Mieren confiscated your ships?’
‘And my cargo. Exotic spices, never seen this far north before.’
‘What were they like, the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer?’
‘Bluer than a summer sky, warm and so shallow you could see our ships’ shadows on the white sands below us.’ Ardonyx spoke slowly at first, his voice gathering strength. ‘Strange creatures crawled on the seabed and fish swam in schools, darting about like beautiful birds. The sandy shores of the islands were so white they shone in the sun. And each island was crowned with tropical forest. There were palms, fruit growing wild for the taking, flowers larger than my hand across, and birds colourful as jewels.’
‘Sounds like paradise.’
‘It was. But everywhere we went there were Mieren. We were lucky, the islanders had never heard of Wyrds and were happy to trade. Both my ships’ holds were filled with spices more valuable than gold.’ His mouth tightened with anger. ‘Now the port Mieren will grow rich on the blood and sweat of my crew.’
‘What’re you doing here, Tobazim? You’re supposed to be on the wall.’ Kyredeon’s hand-of-force had been drinking, but not enough to make him amiable. It never was. He gestured to Ardonyx. ‘Who is this?’
‘Hand-of-force Oriemn. These are relics of Chariode’s brotherhood, returned from a voyage to the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer. They are all that survive of two ships’ crews.’
Oriemn frowned. ‘Bring them.’
Tobazim escorted the captain and his crew into the palace’s main courtyard. Lanterns illuminated two dozen Malaunje dancers, who scattered as Kyredeon’s hand-of-force dismissed them with a wave. The musicians faltered to a stop.
Marble statues gleamed, decorated with garlands of summer flowers. The flowers’ heady scents competed with the smell of seasoned roast pork cooking on spits. The city might be under siege, but they had not stinted on the feast. It was an all-father’s duty and honour to provide for his people.
The gathering fell silent as Oriemn knelt and reported to his all-father. Kyredeon lay on a couch with his voice-of-reason.
Oriemn rose and stepped to one side. Kyredeon beckoned Ardonyx, who approached, gave obeisance and then sank gracefully to his knees. Ionnyn followed two steps behind. The five Malaunje sailors also dropped to their knees.
Kyredeon’s voice-of-reason whispered something to the all-father, and his eyes narrowed.
‘I know you, Ardonyx,’ Kyredeon said. ‘You were part of Chariode’s inner circle. You’ll never be part of mine, not when you swore undying loyalty to him. Give me one good reason why I should not have you executed.’
The five Malaunje moaned and whispered.
Ionnyn lifted his head. ‘Permission to speak, all-father?’
‘Speak.’
‘Captain Ardonyx saved our lives.’
‘Your lives are not in question. Go.’ He dismissed Ionnyn and the Malaunje with a wave of his hand. ‘Go.’
The sailors exchanged looks, then gave obeisance and backed out. Tobazim did not blame them.
Ionnyn remained on his knees at Ardonyx’s back. Tobazim admired him for this, and admired Ardonyx for earning such loyalty.
Kyredeon frowned at Ionnyn, then turned his attention to Ardonyx. ‘Now, tell me why I should not turn you both out and let my warriors hunt you down for sport.’
‘A ship’s captain could be useful,’ Tobazim said, before he knew he meant to. ‘Thanks to the causare–’
‘Causare?’ Ardonyx repeated. ‘We have a causare again? Who is it?’
‘Imoshen the All-father-killer,’ Kyredeon said. ‘First she births a female sacrare and her sisterhood votes her all-mother, then she wins the causare vote!’
Ardonyx went very still.
Tobazim snatched this chance to speak. ‘When we sail into exile, an experienced ship’s captain will be of great service to our brotherhood. Our lives could depend on his skill.’
‘Who asked for your opinion?’ Kyredeon sprang to his feet and his voice-of-reason also rose as the tang of gift readiness filled the air. It made Tobazim’s heart thunder and his gift respond.
‘To the sanctum.’ Kyredeon signalled his hand-of-force. ‘Bring the two relics. As for you’ – he turned to Tobazim – ‘get back to your duties.’
He had no choice but to leave.
Much later that night, when Tobazim had finished his watch, he returned to the chamber he shared with the other young adepts to find them drinking and playing cards with the two new arrivals. He was surprised and relieved, as he’d prepared himself for news of the captain’s death.
‘So, Ardonyx, you’re one of us now.’ Tobazim sank to his knees at the low table, and poured a glass of wine. ‘How’d you manage that?’
Ardonyx discarded two cards, selected two more and smiled sweetly. ‘Oh, I just asked Kyredeon to be reasonable.’
Tobazim gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’d love to know how you did it. I’ve done nothing but irritate the all-father since I arrived. At this rate, I’ll be ninety before I know the touch of a T’En woman!’
‘There’s always unsanctioned trysting,’ Haromyr suggested, ever-resourceful.
Tobazim shook his head. As curious as he was, he was not going to risk Kyredeon’s rage. He indicated the cards. ‘Deal me in.’
‘Too late.’ Ardonyx met his eyes as he lay down his hand. ‘I claim the brotherhood.’ And he laid out his winning hand.
The others laughed, throwing down their cards.
‘This must be your lucky night,’ Haromyr said.
‘Hope it holds out tomorrow, then. I’ve asked to meet the causare.’ Seeing their stunned expressions, Ardonyx shrugged. ‘The Mieren stole my ships and cargo, and murdered all but six of my crew. King Charald has promised us safe passage to the sea, but I doubt he can deliver. Who knows how many of our people the Mieren have killed since we accepted exile? Somehow, the causare must ensure those stranded on isolated estates get to port safely.’
Shame filled Tobazim. He’d been thinking only of himself and how much he hated serving under Kyredeon
, while their new brother thought of the T’Enatuath.
AS IMOSHEN HUGGED her daughter, Umaleni patted the jewels around her neck, making happy little bird noises. The sisterhood had gathered on the rooftop garden under a festive tent to celebrate her daughter’s first birthday.
The only sacrare child of the T’Enatuath, Umaleni had been showered with gifts and attention all morning. The fuss had surprised Imoshen, and she vowed not to let them spoil her daughter. When Umaleni grew up, she would need to be strong and hard-headed.
The toddler wriggled and Imoshen put her down, so she could join Tancred, who was playing with the blocks at Imoshen’s feet. Today, the geldr was the mental equivalent of a five-year-old. Seeing Tancred always saddened Imoshen. He was the same age as her, but he would never go to live with the brotherhoods. His T’En mother had been so desperate for a daughter that she’d tried to ensure her child would be born female, and had ruined him.
Laughter carried across the rooftop garden. The women of the sisterhood were excited, their gifts barely contained. Traditionally, midsummer was a time of celebration. Over the next eight days, poets’ reputations would be made or broken, playwrights would parody events and polarise opinions, artists would exhibit their work, and the salons would be filled with debate.
But the most eagerly anticipated event was tonight’s masked carnival, where Malaunje and T’En alike mingled in the park, in the eateries and in the dance halls that opened off the lantern-strung streets of the free quarter. This evening, under cover of masks, those who dared could indulge in unsanctioned trystings.
Meanwhile, there were the sanctioned trystings to organise. The status, gift and temperament of both individuals had to be considered. The man and woman would come away with their gift enhanced by the experience, but for this to happen, they had to lower their defences, which left them open to attack. It was a delicate balance: the higher the adept, the more dangerous but rewarding the trysting.
Which reminded Imoshen... it was two years since she’d seen Umaleni’s father. A year from conception to birth, and a year since their daughter was born. He’d sailed to find a southern passage to the far-east. For all she knew, he was dead.
She mustn’t think like that; he would return.
‘Midsummer’s day.’ Egrayne’s sharp mulberry eyes studied Imoshen. ‘A propitious time for a birth.’
Imoshen’s gift surged, and she realised Egrayne was trying to guess the identity of Umaleni’s father.
All around them, the sisters nibbled delicacies and spoke of the coming midsummer celebrations. Meanwhile, Malaunje musicians played and the sisterhood’s poetess composed rhyming couplets about the trysting prowess of various T’En men.
‘I have been watching you, Imoshen,’ Egrayne said softly. ‘And I have not been able to identify the adept you chose for Umaleni’s father. Was it one of the all-fathers I recommended?’
Imoshen only smiled and shook her head.
‘Keep your counsel, then, but beware. You let your gift defences down once with him. He’ll seek to breach them again to gain advantage over you, especially now that you are causare.’
Ardonyx wouldn’t, of that Imoshen was certain, just as she was certain Egrayne would be horrified if she realised Imoshen had made the deep-bonding. Egrayne saw the T’En men as enemies. But for every male like Kyredeon, there were males like Ardonyx and her choice-son.
‘Time to see the all-fathers,’ Egrayne said.
They set off down the causeway road to the free quarter. The Mieren shops were all boarded up, and had been since winter cusp.
When they reached the park, the T’En males were waiting near the steps of the bower building, eager gifts barely contained. Imoshen and her seconds climbed to the top floor and went along the arched verandah. They passed other bowers, where all-mothers were already negotiating trystings over wine and fruit.
Imoshen’s bower had been decorated for the festival. Gauzy drapes hung from the ceiling. Ripe fruits, scented flowers and summer wine sat on the low table, surrounded by velvet cushions. The chamber radiated life and fecundity, just as it should.
Imoshen knelt at the low table and checked her pen. ‘Send in the first all-father, Egrayne.’
Her voice-of-reason returned at a run. ‘It’s Kyredeon.’
‘Ah.’ Imoshen had every intention of refusing all his trysting offers.
Kiane stepped to one side to announce the men as they entered. She ended with, ‘...and Adept Ardonyx, formerly of Chariode’s brotherhood.’
It was all the warning Imoshen had. Ardonyx appeared older and thinner. The world contracted until there was only his presence. Her gift tried to break free, seeking his. A rushing filled her ears. She felt light-headed and insubstantial, yet at the same time more alive than ever.
Kyredeon gave an abbreviated bow, dropping to kneel opposite her. ‘My new adept has disturbing news.’
‘Causare.’ Ardonyx made the formal obeisance, sinking to his knees.
Meanwhile, Imoshen scrambled to collect her wits. ‘Ardonyx, the sea captain?’ she asked, as though searching to recall him. ‘What is your news?’
Kyredeon answered for him. ‘Mieren killed all but six of his crew and impounded his ships. As his all-father, I demand compensation.’
Imoshen glanced to Ardonyx. There was the slightest hint of cynical amusement in his wine-dark eyes.
‘Your ships carried great wealth, captain?’ Imoshen’s voice was neutral, but her gift thrummed under her skin.
‘Both holds were waist-deep in spices from the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer. Spices worth more than their weight in gold.’
She hid a smile. No wonder Kyredeon was eager for compensation.
‘I’ll contact King Charald’s agent, but this is larger than the fate of two ships,’ Imoshen said. ‘This means the Mieren are not honouring the king’s word. Our people on the outlying estates may have trouble reaching port.’
‘There is a way to make the Mieren’s greed serve us,’ Ardonyx said. ‘The causare could offer a reward for live T’En and Malaunje. A few silver coins would be a year’s earnings to most Mieren.’
Imoshen smiled. ‘Very good. I’ll send a message to King Charald’s agent.’
‘And it suits his purpose,’ Ardonyx said. ‘As much as it suits ours.’
She smiled. She had to force herself to look away and rein in her gift.
‘I propose a toast.’ She poured a glass of wine for each of them and, as a sign of her approval, let her power imbue the wine with gift-essence. Lifting her own glass, she said, ‘To the greed of Mieren serving us.’
They echoed her words. Egrayne gave a little gasp of surprise as she sensed the wine’s gift essence. Kyredeon and his two seconds drained their goblets in one gulp.
‘You honour us, causare.’ Ardonyx sipped his wine slowly, savouring her generosity.
‘Exile draws near.’ Imoshen’s mind raced. ‘We need to form an exile-council, made up of representatives from each sisterhood and brotherhood. They need to bring a variety of skills to the table. For instance, Ardonyx knows ships, the sea and the Mieren.’
‘I would be honoured to serve.’
‘Excellent.’ This meant she would see him often, but if she did not lie naked in his arms soon, her power would escape her control. Already she could feel the tension in the bower rising, as the others responded to her gift readiness.
‘Egrayne...’ – Imoshen had to clear her throat – ‘make a note to send messages to each brotherhood and sisterhood, requesting a representative for the exile-council.’
Egrayne nodded and dipped the nib in ink.
‘There is also the question of trystings,’ Kyredeon said. ‘Have your sisters requested any of my brothers?’
‘I’ll check in a moment.’ Egrayne kept scribbling.
Imoshen bit into a strawberry, aware of Ardonyx’s eyes on her. She had to remember how to swallow. If only she could officially tryst with Ardonyx, but his stature was too low and she must not singl
e him out. If Kyredeon discovered he had her secret bond-partner in his power, she shuddered to think what the all-father would do.
In the past, they’d met at their language lessons, but Merchant Mercai had returned to Ivernia, leaving the Sagora house empty. For a moment her heart leapt, before she remembered that the foreign quarter lay outside the causeway gate. But there was still the Sagora shop in the free quarter.
She glanced to Egrayne, who was pretending to check the trysting list.
Imoshen picked her words with care. ‘Much has changed since you left us to make your voyage of discovery, Captain Ardonyx. The foreign quarter is empty, and all the Mieren shops in the free quarter are closed. You may wonder why we still celebrate the traditional midsummer festivities. In such dark days, ritual is important. It brings us together.’
Would he make the connection? With the masked carnival, it would be easy to slip away from her sisters this evening, and meet him at the Sagoras’ shop.
‘The bond of ritual is important,’ Ardonyx agreed. As his knowing eyes met hers, she felt a surge of excitement mingled with admiration.
‘I’m sorry, All-father Kyredeon,’ Egrayne said. ‘Your brothers are not on our list.’
‘This is the seventh midsummer in a row that my brotherhood has been slighted by your sisterhood.’ His angry, hungry gaze went to Imoshen. ‘The causare sits there, enticing me with her power. I demand she acknowledge my rise in stature with a trysting.’
The bower went utterly still.
‘You forget yourself, Kyredeon. All-fathers do not demand, they gratefully accept.’ Egrayne sounded calm, but her gift had risen. She sent Imoshen a warning look.
The last thing Imoshen wanted to do was take Kyredeon to her bower. The problem was that, despite his tone, Kyredeon was correct. He had saved the women and children of Chariode’s brotherhood; this should be acknowledged. And she was causare.
‘I would honour your rise in stature, Kyredeon,’ Imoshen said sweetly, ‘but I’ve taken a vow of celibacy to make no formal trystings until our people are safely at sea.’
‘That reminds me,’ Ardonyx said. ‘When I was escaping the port, I discovered Chariode’s warehouse had been burnt to the ground.’
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