by John Donlan
When he was away from the court, he turned to Stairn and nodded once. “Go. Find the men. When you have located them, return to me. We have things to discuss.”
Twenty
Needra was wandering, glad of a respite from the constant lessons that she had been forced to undertake over the past few days. Forced was perhaps too strong a word. She had agreed to help Darius Crow and his sister, after all, but she was beginning to wonder why. Learning the words as they appeared when scrawled onto parchment was tiresome, dull and infuriating, and it was taking far longer than she had hoped it would. There were as many exceptions to the accepted rules as there were rules themselves, it seemed. It was a mass of contradictions and confusing guidelines that she was struggling to navigate. And yet, for all that she hated it, learning to read and to write seemed to be one of the few ways she could express what she had seen in the swamp.
Darius was frustrated, too, she could see it in his eyes. But he was careful not to show it. She knew that he was still wary about the possibility that she would decide to leave, and he was doing everything he could to ensure that did not happen, including indulging her when she wanted something. Like this small escape from the tedium that had begun to fill her life.
She found herself behind the castle, where a vibrant garden had been allowed to bloom and to blossom. There were flowers and plants here that she had never seen before. Certainly she had seen more green since crossing the mountains than she ever had in Tho'reen, but here they were concentrated more thickly, and cultivated into incredible displays of colour.
Needra paused for a moment and bent to study a patchwork of blue and yellow and red flowers that completely hid the ground from view. If she had been able to speak, she might have expressed the joy the sight of these flowers brought her; instead, she showed her happiness with a smile that spread wide across her face. She reached out to cup the delicate petals of a pristine white flower, then bent to inhale the scent. Even the most expensive perfumes of the Tho’reen nobles could not compare to this.
Rising a moment later, she continued her stroll. Darius had been true to his word that she was not a prisoner. Her room had remained unlocked, and whenever she left it, the guards had all bowed to her, and made no effort to stop her progress. She had been tempted to push it further and leave the castle to explore the city below, but had decided against it, in part because she was not keen to abandon the peace of the castle for the noise and chaos of the city. The crowds unnerved her, and she was happy enough to simply wander the castle where it was quiet and she could think. There was also the fact of her being Tho’reen to consider. Her skin colour was a giveaway as to her origin, and despite the fact that she was under the protection of the duke’s son, she had no doubt that there were some who would take the risk if given the chance to rid the world of one more Tho’reen.
Most of her thoughts were of Darius. She realised that she had jumped to conclusions about his character too quickly. But that was hardly a surprise, considering the men she had been forced to endure during her time as a slave. That treatment had ingrained upon her mind the truth that all men, no matter where they were born, were monsters inside. That deep-rooted belief was hard to banish, but she was slowly beginning to reconsider her previous ideas on the matter. The more time she spent with Darius, the easier it became. She had come to realise that he was kind and thoughtful, and cared deeply for those he loved. He was respected by the people he ruled over, which was a strange and incredible difference to the nobles of Tho’reen who ruled through fear, intimidation and cruelty.
She admired him. It was something new to her. Even on her island home, the men had been hard and often cold, but that had been a necessity rather than a choice. Here in the Kingdom of Losarn, however, life was a little easier. Not perfect, but less a struggle for survival. It at least allowed those who dwelt here the chance to become better people, even if they did not always take it.
There were those who still preyed on the weak, of course. She had not forgotten those men at the farm and how they had thought of her and treated her.
Lost in her thoughts, Needra suddenly discovered that she had wandered into a part of the gardens that she had not seen before. Up ahead, partially hidden behind a screen of blooming flowers and tall green plants was a stone building with a domed roof. Curious, Needra moved towards it.
The structure was at least as old as the castle – perhaps even older, though she was not sure how that could be - but it was partially overgrown on one side with ivy, and shielded on the other side by a tall tree with broad, leafy branches that threw the entire building into shadow. The entrance was barred by a large iron door. Needra was surprised when the door opened at the slight push of her hand.
She stepped inside and felt the chill of the ages settle over her. She knew at once that this was a sacred place, though she was not entirely sure why she felt that way; in Tho’reen, the temples were reserved for the nobles, not the slaves. The room was mostly empty. A single sculpture was the only thing in the building other than dust and stray leaves. She felt a pull towards that stone carving and moved unhesitatingly in that direction.
Needra had no idea what the sculpture was meant to represent. It looked vaguely humanoid, but was twisted in ways that were unnatural and appeared to have been created in a manner that was purposefully abstract. The head was vaguely outlined, and the face, if there even was a face, was shrouded in a mask of some kind. The proportions of the body were strange, too, and where there should have been two arms outstretched, there were four.
She studied the statue for long moments, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She got the impression that the domed structure had been built to house this sculpture, but she did not know why. She bent at the base of the sculpture to brush away some of the vines that were growing there. She could see something etched into the stone, and she wanted to get a closer look.
So intent was she on looking at the strange idol that she almost fainted in shock when a hand touched her lightly on the shoulder. She whirled around, intent on defending herself, only to find herself looking at Darius' sister, Torelle. The woman was regarding her in some surprise, and no little amusement.
“I am sorry,” Torelle said softly. “I did not mean to startle you. I announced my presence, but you did not appear to hear me.”
Needra felt her heart rate slow, even if her body remained tense. The last few days and weeks had left her on edge and uneasy, and it was taking some time for her to come to terms with the fact that she had actually found some form of safety.
Torelle glanced at the statue curiously for a moment. “It has been years since I was last in here. My grandfather would be shocked at my lack of piety, but I can so rarely find the enthusiasm for a deity that is as indifferent to the world as Naedorn. Not that he is much different from any other God in that regard.”
Needra raised her brow. So she had been right. This was a depiction of a deity. She was unfamiliar with the Gods of this land, and only vaguely aware of those in Tho'reen. The primary Goddess of her own people was a fertility Goddess, worshipped for the annual bounty and harvest and little more. Even those who still followed the old teachings did so only because of tradition, and did not truly believe. Needra herself had never been one to put much stock in Gods who had allowed her people to become enslaved and mistreated. There were certainly more pressing matters for her island people than the construction of stone idols like this one. She knew of great sculptures and statues among the Tho'reen cities, but they had all been built many years earlier, decades even. Worship had declined, replaced by the concerns of the here and now instead of the divine.
Torelle apparently understood the look on her guest's face and she smiled. “Of course, you do not know of our Gods. Naedorn is the patron God of the Southmarsh, and of my family in particular. He was once one of the prime divinities throughout the kingdom, but like so many things, his worship has faltered. His aspect is one of noble deeds and honour. Long ago, even before t
he unification of the kingdom, the Crows worshipped Naedorn and sought to mould our actions in his image. Duty is important, acting with honour and respect. These days, his divine presence seems so distant that we sometimes forget our history and devotion to him, and I am guilty of that most of all. I admit that the principals that Naedorn represents are less of interest to me than they are the male members of my family. In particular my brother, Luscard, shows the most piety when it comes to Naedorn. But I fear that he tries to emulate the wrong aspects of the God. He seeks glory, not honour. Sometimes the two go hand in hand, but more often, glory comes only with the sacrifice of honour.”
Needra was not sure she understood that last comment, but she nodded her head nonetheless. The rest of what Torelle had said made a great deal of sense to her. Needra had been treated well since she arrived at the castle, and if that was due to the respectful worship of this God, then she owed Naedorn her thanks. She turned and sank to her knees, head bowed.
Torelle bent swiftly and urged her to her feet. “No. That is not our way.”
Needra rose, puzzled, brows furrowed in confusion. “Naedorn does not seek supplication. He teaches self-determination, confidence, and the will to stand on your own two feet. Forging your own path is the way to show your respect to him. At least, so we have always believed.”
To Needra, that sounded like both a valid and worthy way to live, and her respect for this God increased even further. She made a note to herself to learn more about the deity, if she could.
Torelle turned away and beckoned for Needra to follow. “I came looking for you,” she said. “My brother wants to continue your studies now. I know, he can be something of a task master when he is determined, but he means well. He is worried about our father, and that manifests in ways that can be tiresome.”
They left the small shrine and emerged into bright sunlight once more. There had been rain over the past couple of days, but now the sky was clear, and Needra was glad of it. She had seen rain only once during her time in Tho'reen, and when it had fallen it had been brief but powerful, large, heavy drops that stung when they hit flesh. She had hated it, and she hated it here, too. It turned the skies above black, and made the heavens roar as though the Gods were fighting. She would never get used to that.
Darius was waiting for them near to the entrance to the castle. Needra smiled when she saw him. She couldn't help herself. There was something warm and comforting about his presence. Unlike the other men that had been in her life, Darius made her feel protected and welcome. But it was more than that. She felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. And sometimes, when she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she saw him staring at her in a way that she had never seen before. It was not lust; she knew lust from her time spent as property of the Tho’reen. This was something deeper, but she could not say what exactly.
“I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to leave us after all,” Darius said as they drew close.
“I found her in the shrine to Naedorn, of all places,” Torelle told him.
Darius looked surprised. “And I suppose you explained that nobody but our brother goes there any more unless they have to? Even father doesn't much bother, except on holy days, or when he is looking for some peace and quiet.”
“I did, but it did not seem to dissuade her or reduce her interest. I think you may have to add religious studies to your roster, brother.”
Darius scowled at that, but before he could say anything more, they were interrupted by a sergeant of the guard approaching from the castle gates at a trot. Needra could tell at once that it was not good news. The man's face was pale and he was frowning.
“My lord,” the soldier said, coming to a stop and breathing heavily. “There has been a fire, at one of the farms near the marsh. Our patrol spotted it just this morning. There were no survivors that we could see...”
“A fire? Which farm? Be specific, man!”
Darius had thought of something, Needra could tell. She could read it in his face. When you could not speak, you learned to listen and to watch, and she had become adept at reading the thoughts in people's faces. She frowned, and then it hit her. Could it be the same farm she had ran from?
The guard looked confused for a moment, but when he described the location, Needra knew the truth. It was the same farm. The same place she had tried to hide in after escaping the swamp.
Darius looked at her for a moment, and in his eyes she saw the same fear that had suddenly gripped her heart. It was too much of a coincidence that the farm would burn now. And if it had caught fire the night before, it had been during a rain storm. It could only have been deliberate. The cold hand tightened around her heart. Whoever had done it had been looking for her.
“Gather some men and meet me at the city gates,” Darius said. “I want to see this for myself.”
The guard saluted and hurried away to obey the orders.
Torelle frowned. “Do you think... could it have been the same ones who killed the delegation from Tho'reen?”
Darius licked his lips nervously. “There is no proof of that for the moment, but I fear it is possible. No, likely.” He looked at Needra again. “Whoever killed those people know that you escaped. Somehow, they know. Go inside, wait for my return.”
Needra shook her head stubbornly. She needed to see for herself. She did not think it likely that the monsters that had burned the farm would be waiting for her there. They would have realised that she was gone already, and they would be seeking her elsewhere. They might even suspect where she was now.
As if reading her mind, Darius nodded slowly. “Very well then. You will come with us. Torelle...”
“I am coming, too,” Torelle told him firmly. “There are dark things at work here, and I mean to see for myself what we are up against.”
Darius did not argue. He sighed and threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Go and dress for riding,” he said. “We will leave within the hour.”
Twenty-One
Armensha had done her job well. Muvesh had found the body of the spy in her own bedchamber, throat slit, lying in a pool of his own blood. The household had been awoken by the sounds of her screaming herself hoarse. It had sounded like music to Shuvani, and she had lay in her bed, smiling to herself for long minutes before eventually rising to confront her sister.
“You killed him!” Muvesh raged, her eyes blazing with anger. She had whirled to face Shuvani the moment the Jagir had entered the room. “Oh, I am sure you did not do it with your own hands, but you are the one responsible!”
Shuvani smiled indulgently. “Listen to yourself sister. You are raving like a lunatic. I did not even know this man; why would I kill him? He is one of your slaves, is he not? I remember his face from when you arrived. Perhaps one of your guards killed him when they found him trying to escape. He would not be the first slave to attempt such a thing.”
Muvesh curled her lips up in disgust. “And left the body here for me to find? Oh no, sister, I know you did this.” She narrowed her eyes briefly. “He saw something you did not want me to know about and you had him murdered for it!”
The body had been removed now, but there was still a dark stain on the floor of the bedchamber to remind them both of the deed. Shuvani had half a mind to leave it where it was. It seemed appropriate somehow.
“I might ask why your slave was wandering around during the night instead of remaining with the other slaves in his cell,” Shuvani said smoothly. “If he was not trying to escape, only you could have allowed him his freedom, sister. If he saw something he should not have, it was because of your command. You are responsible for the actions of your own slaves.”
Muvesh was silent, her breath coming in fast, heavy pants.
Shuvani smiled sweetly. “I seem to have struck a nerve. You should be very, very careful Muvesh. Spying, even for the empress, is a dangerous game, and it is one you do not have experience in. I, on the other hand, know the rules very well indeed. Well enough that I can break the
m at any time. If the empress wanted to see me fall, she should have sent someone with a little more guile than you.”
“When the empress finds out what you are doing. What you have done...”
“The empress will not learn anything she does not already suspect,” Shuvani interjected. “Not from you, anyway sister. You have seen nothing that I did not want you to see, and there is no proof that I was responsible for the death of your slave. It is true that it happened in my house, and I will see that you are compensated for the cost of replacing him. But nobody will mourn the death of a slave. Nobody will care, but you and the empress, and she will not act openly. You see, dear sister, I have received news that the last person standing between me and the throne has been removed. I am next in line, and when the inevitable war between the empire and the Losarn comes, the empress will need my army. I will grant her my forces, and when I save the empire and help to crush the northern kingdom, the people will see me as the victor, not the empress. I am sure she would love to have me removed, but she cannot, not without proof of any misdoings on my part. And that proof does not exist. You have your suspicions, as does your mistress; but that is all they are. Think on this, Muvesh. When the empress is gone, toppled from her ivory throne, I will be the one to take her place. What will become of you then? You should think long and hard about where your loyalties lie; with a doomed empress, or with your own flesh and blood?”
Muvesh was silent for a moment, but then she suddenly smiled. “You misunderstand me. I am not here to spy for the empress. I am here to see my sister.” She waved her hand at the drying stain on the floor. “This was an unfortunate circumstance, but you are right. He was just a slave and will not be missed. He meant nothing to me, and it was wrong of me to blame you for his passing. As you say, he was likely trying to escape. I will speak to my guards and find out which of them did the deed. Whoever killed him did me a courtesy in removing him. And you need not concern yourself with coin for his replacement. I will see to it.”