AT DAWN, EVERNA AND two other members of the Sisterhood returned to assist the new initiates back to warmth and shelter. Pharinet was virtually frozen against the rock. She had spent the rest of the night in a fevered delirium, Ellony clamped against her side. She had dreamed, she remembered that. She remembered the flavor of the dreams, the wet stark fear of them, but the images eluded her. For that she was grateful. When Pharinet opened her eyes to the sound of Everna’s voice, the sea was far out—she could not recall the tide’s retreat. For a horrifying moment, she thought that Ellony was dead, the girl’s body was so stiff and cold against her, but when she moved her arm, Ellony uttered a feeble groan. Everna marched towards her, cloak flapping. “Pharry, are you all right?” “Yes,” Pharinet murmured. Her lips were cracked and crusted with salt. She tried to move Ellony’s weight from her body. “But Ellie’s hurt.” She could see that the hand and arm she’d pressed against Ellony’s side were rusty with dried blood. “What happened?” Everna asked, as the other women lifted Ellony between them. “Something came,” Pharinet said. She reached out for Everna’s hand, unable to stand by herself. “Something from the sea. It was monstrous. It attacked Elly.” “Hush now, let’s get you home,” Everna said. “It happened,” said Pharinet. “You are exhausted,” Everna replied. A covered wagon waited at the top of the cliff path, laden with furs and blankets. By the time Pharinet crawled in among them, she could barely function. Her head pounded with pain, and her body felt boneless, atrophied. Someone pressed a vessel containing hot milk to Pharinet’s lips. The smell made her feel nauseated but she drank, taking in the warmth. Then she was lying among the musty furs, snuggled inside them like a swaddled child, and the wagon lumbered back towards Caradore. Ellony’s body lay limply beside her, but at least she was snoring. What had come up from the sea? Had they dreamed it? Pharinet experienced a pang of anger. Everna and the others had almost killed them. What stupidity was it that decided anyone should lie exposed upon that rock for the duration of a night? They were lucky to be alive. The cold alone could have frozen them to death. And yet, they had survived. The experience could not fail to touch them in some way. They would be changed by it.
PHARINET SUFFERED A MILD fever after her initiation, but it was of short duration. Everna nursed her assiduously, as she had done many times before, whenever Pharinet had been ill as a child. Once the fever had passed, and Pharinet lay pale but lucid in her bed, Everna said, “You are one of us now.” “At what cost?” Pharinet asked. “It was terrible, Evvie. Have you lived through that?” Everna appeared uncertain. “I have spent my night at the rock, yes. Of course I have. Like you, I felt very drained by the experience.” “But the other thing c Did you see that?” “No,” Everna said. “What did I see?” Pharinet asked. Everna sat down on the bed. She smiled, but seemed troubled. “Some would say the dragons came to you.” “Would you say that?” Everna plucked at the thick coverlet. “I don’t know. I’ve always believed they can no longer come to us in that way.” “How is Ellony?” “She suffered a wound to her side. We found splinters of wood in it. Perhaps some flotsam was hurled against the rock.” “Perhaps,” said Pharinet, but she did not believe it. “The Sisterhood have done all that they can,” Everna said. “Ellony’s wounds have been drizzled with fresh sea water. If anything can cure her hurt, it will be that. She has been wrapped in poultices of gulfweed to take out the poison.” “It was the sea that injured her. Why should its produce heal her?” Everna made a sound of irritation. “I don’t think you understand,” she said, but could offer no further explanation. Left alone, Pharinet thought, “Ellony is marked. They marked her,” but could not decide whether this signified a blessing or a curse.
A WEEK LATER, Pharinet went down to the sea again, to her private cave. It felt as if she’d been absent from it for years. The swell of the water there was benign, contained. Since the initiation night, she had felt melancholy and detached from the world. She had not seen Ellony, who was still suffering from the effects from their night of exposure. Pharinet sat in her cave and watched the water. She could not help feeling that she and Ellony had experienced something none of the other Sisters had ever come close to. Why? Did that presage a change was imminent? Were they different to the others in some way? In her heart, she felt she was caught in the lull between the tides. The waves had crashed over her on their journey to the land, but they had not yet receded. The ebbing tide had slithered past her on the dragon rock, silently, without waking her. In this way, her soul was still surrounded by water. She was stranded on the island, with no safe passage to the shore. Her feelings towards Ellony hadn’t changed, but Pharinet felt a need to talk to her. The following day, she rode out to Norgance, where Saska greeted her with exaggerated warmth. “My dear, you are such brave girls!” she declared, herding Pharinet into a salon, where a fire burned high. “Drink this after your journey.” Into Pharinet’s hands, she thrust a goblet containing an aperitif, which was as full of heat as the hearth. Dimara Corey sat beside the fire. Pharinet had no doubt she hadn’t left the house since Ellony’s illness. Pharinet sat down on a couch. “How is Ellony? May I see her?” “Of course,” Saska said. “She is still not completely well, but that is only to be expected. Something wondrous happened that night, Pharry. I have no doubt in my heart that the dragons have chosen Ellony. You, of course, were there as her guardian, which is only proper for a Palindrake woman.” She turned to her sister, who seemed unnaturally quiet. “Is this not so, Mara?” Dimara inclined her head. “It would seem to be.” Pharinet took a sip of her drink. “Everna thinks that some sea-borne wreckage caused Ellie’s injury.” Saska laughed. “It is Everna’s function to be the bell of rationality. She would naturally say that. But we know differently, I’m sure.” “Why would the dragons mark Ellony with a wound?” Pharinet asked, addressing her question to Dimara. “It does not seem an act of favor.” Dimara gave Pharinet a shrewd glance. “Ellony is Valraven’s betrothed. We must accept it is a role that sets her apart from all of us, whatever we would like for ourselves. We each have our part to play, but for most of us, that part will be of supporter and handmaiden to the bride of Caradore.” “Ellony is our hope,” Saska said. “Pharry, you must see that.” Pharinet put down her goblet. “I would like to see Ellony now, if that’s possible.” “She will be delighted,” said Saska, recovering her excitement. “She is aware your warmth protected her through the night.” Saska rose from her seat to accompany her guest, but Pharinet said, “I would like to see Ellie alone. We have things to discuss.” Saska’s face creased into a mask of empathetic concern. “Of course. You will stay for lunch, won’t you? I will instruct the kitchens.” “You are kind,” said Pharinet, and left the room. Her jaws ached from the suppression of angry words. She mounted the curling blackwood staircase to Ellony’s room, fighting down a threshing tide of rage. Ellony was half the woman she was. Saska was an ignorant fool. If the dragons had marked Ellony, it was to doom her, not favor her. They knew the forthcoming marriage would be a travesty. If the power of Palindrake was ever to ascend once more, then she and Valraven should be united in purpose and in love. They had grown together from the tiniest seeds. They were part of each other. Ellony was an invading irritant. Pharinet found Ellony draped languidly and gracefully beneath her blankets. Her pale hair, fanned out over the high starched pillows, was only slightly darker in color than her face. Her lips were as white as the sheets. She looked drowned, bleached by brine. “Pharry,” she murmured, weakly lifting a hand. Pharinet came into the room, feeling like a riot of color and energy. Rays of light would splash off her, fill in the pastel corners of the chamber. “How are you feeling?” Ellony smiled faintly, bravely. “A lot better. I’m just very tired. And you?” “I’m fine. I have a robust constitution.” Ellony smiled. “I know. Oh, Pharry, what happened to us that night? Did we dream it?” “I would say it was unlikely we would have the same dream, but tell me, what do you think we saw?” Ellony’s head moved slowly from side to side upon her pillow. Her brow fur
rowed. “I can only remember the lights and the wildness of the sea. Then there was a great eye hanging over me, and what seemed like huge shards of broken coral. It came for me c” Her head ceased its restless movement. “Was it a dragon, Pharry? Is that possible?” Her eyes were dark like deep pools. There was a hint of madness in them. Pharinet reached out to touch one of Ellony’s cool white hands. “I don’t know. Don’t upset yourself.” “The wound, though,” Ellony said. “Mother thinks it is a boon, but I am afraid. It wasn’t like that—it was something else, an omen. Oh Pharry!” Ellony lifted herself from the bed and pressed herself into Pharinet’s arms. Her hands might be cold, but her body was hot and seemed too fragile in Pharinet’s hold. “Keep me safe. You are the one. Hold me.” Pharinet curled her arms tightly around Ellony’s back. She could feel the knobs of spine through her friend’s nightgown. I am vile, she thought, vile and contemptible. “Perhaps my sister is right,” she said, stroking Ellony’s shoulder. “She says that some flotsam was flung against us. We were in a strange state, expecting anything to happen.” Ellony pulled away from her. “That’s true, but in that situation, I don’t think anything happens as coincidence. If it was only flotsam, then it came to that place with a purpose. It still marked me, and made me think of dragons. The Sisterhood say the dragons can no longer rise, and maybe that’s the truth of it. They have to use other means to communicate their plans to the world.” “Your mother has no fear for you,” Pharinet said. “Neither has your aunt. You should trust them. They think you’ve been chosen as special.” Ellony lay back down again, slowly. “I wish I could share their feelings. I can’t. What are your thoughts, Pharry?” “If we have a destiny, it will be revealed to us. I think we must conquer our fears, because they’ll be our weakness.” “Then maybe it’s a test,” Ellony said. “Something I have to learn about myself.” “I’m sure that’s it,” said Pharinet. Ellony expelled a long, but shallow sigh. “I want to do what’s right for Val. You do believe that, don’t you?” Pharinet reached out to stroke Ellony’s hair. “Of course I do.” “I trust you more than anyone,” Ellony said, “because I know you love him as much as I do, and”—she risked a tremulous smile—“in much the same way.” Drive a knife into my heart, Pharinet thought. Yet Ellony was innocent. Hating and envying her would only shrink Pharinet’s soul. She must fight to overcome those unworthy feelings. She leaned down and kissed Ellony’s brow. “Come spring, we shall be sisters,” she said, “and both Val and I will be there to keep you safe.”
5
BRIDES
THREE WEEKS AFTER THE initiation rite, the marriage of Thomist and Everna took place in the small chapel of Madragore on the estate of Caradore. Wind gusted in under the scoured wooden doors and made the guests shiver in their seats. Candle flames leaned hectically to one side then the other, and tapestries portraying the exploits of the gods flapped against the walls. Pharinet stood behind her sister at the altar, holding a tall red candle in frozen fingers. Ellony sat with her family on the first row of pews, wrapped in a gigantic coat of black fox fur. Pharinet had seen her on the way in. She still looked frail. The guests were all dressed in the traditional wedding colors of the god, dark reds, scarlet, the occasional slash of royal purple and cyclamen. Pharinet wore a long-sleeved crimson gown, which was cuffed and collared with black ermine. Everna wore a more fiery color, her bodice adorned with rubies and beads of jet, patterned into the sacred glyphs of the god. Her mother’s jewelry looped across her chest, clasped round her neck and wrists, dripped from her ears. At her side, Thomist was in black, sporting only a red sash. Banners overhead swung back and forth, distributing a cloud of slightly acrid incense around the building. The officiating priest was kind enough to instill the rather severe vows and pledges with human warmth. It was clear he liked a wedding. Pharinet knew that Everna hated having to speak her vows in the name of Madragore, because her sister had complained about it ceaselessly for days. “How will it mean anything to me?” she snapped. “That beast of war knows nothing of love.” Still, she had no choice. Traditionally, marriages between the nobility took place at the home of the bride, but for Pharinet and Ellony the doors of the larger place of worship, the Church of His Holy Fire, would be opened. This was a large chapel a couple of miles from Caradore, where high-ranking families observed life’s rites of passage: the offering of children to the church; marriages; and funerals. Everna could have made her wedding vows there, but chose the more intimate surroundings of the family chapel. Standing there, shivering in the network of draughts, Pharinet tried to imagine the day of her own wedding. It seemed impossible that it would ever happen. But come spring she too would stand before a similar, if grander, altar, vowing to become Khaster’s property. How would she feel on that day, knowing Val was behind her, the candle of faith tall in his hands? Would he be a married man by then, his wife standing two paces behind him? Pharinet felt guilty about Ellony now. She felt as if she’d cursed her friend with her sour, jealous thoughts. Ellony was slow in recovering from her ordeal at the dragon rock. The wound in her side had become infected, and still pained her. It leaked a viscous fluid. She tried to be cheerful, for that was her nature, but Pharinet knew Ellony was still haunted by fears. She would not speak of them but they lived in her eyes. The ceremony concluded with the sharing of wine, and the company went out into the blustery day. Clouds surged massively across the grey sky and the trees, this close to the coast, were already stripped bare of their leaves. Winter had come early to Caradore. There had been snow, but it had been sucked away in the night by the wet sea wind. Ellony came to Pharinet’s side, while some distance away Everna and Thomist lapped up the compliments and well wishes of their guests. “I hope the wind has dropped a little by tomorrow,” Ellony said. “I don’t relish a ride to the rock village in this weather.” The Sisterhood had planned a private ceremony for the following day, so that Everna’s nuptials could be blessed by the Merante. “I think we can anticipate an uncomfortable ride,” said Pharinet. “Still, I hear the ceremony is a short one.” Ellony nodded glumly. It was clear she had no real affinity for the rites of the Sisterhood. Pharinet felt the same. They had undergone something beyond mere words and genuflections, and the rituals seemed empty in comparison. “I had a letter from Val today,” Ellony said. Pharinet squashed the green barb in her heart before it could wound her properly. “What did he say?” She had received a letter from Khaster also. Perhaps officers in training were required to write home at specific times. “Not much,” Ellony said. “He described some more of Magrast. Life is so different there.” “Khaster wrote to me and said they had befriended certain of the Emperor’s sons,” Pharinet said. “Val didn’t mention that,” said Ellony. “Has he written to you, Pharry?” “A couple of times,” Pharinet said. He hadn’t written at all. His silence seemed deliberate. She was already bracing herself for a cooling of their relationship when he came home. In a contrary manner, this gave her unspeakable hope. If he did not share her feelings, why would he consider coolness necessary?
THE WINTER WAS HARD that year. Animals froze upon the moors and a child went missing in the snow, not to be found until the thaw of spring, crouched up like an ancient sacrifice in a rocky crevice. The midwinter festival, with its ox roasts, torch-lit processions and beacon fires came and went. Everna and Thomist held court at Caradore, and the Leckerys came over for a few days to celebrate with the Palindrakes. Montimer Leckery, Saska’s husband, made a rare visit home from the army. Saska fussed around this comparative stranger like a panicking hen. He looked tired and would not speak of his life in the army. Pharinet saw an echo of horror in his eyes. He was a frightening thing, like the animated corpse of a torture victim. The Sisterhood sang sad songs upon the beach of their isolated cove, battered by wind that was clawed with sand and salt. Pharinet saw no sign of dragons. She would walk upon the beach alone at night, wrapped in her dark cloak, gazing out to sea. Sometimes, on calm nights, when the moon sailed high, she would catch sight of a ship ghosting across the horizon, an
imperial patrol perhaps, or a stray memory. Valraven did not write to her, although there were many letters from Khaster. It seemed that distance from home made him think more fondly of her. He spoke to her in a tone they had never used together before. ?My beloved ?? he would begin. Since when? thought Pharinet. She wrote back saying she had little to say. ?Everything is the same.? Ellony coughed her way through the cold months, although with the return of spring, she seemed to bloom once more. The memory of the night on the rock had faded, and with it, perhaps, her symptoms of illness. She looked forward to seeing Valraven and talked of it often. As tight pink buds appeared on the trees around Caradore, Pharinet felt a sense of ending creeping towards her. Soon, her home would be at Norgance. This, she did not relish. She liked the sea, and Norgance was further inland. She liked the drafty, airy complexity of Caradore, whereas Norgance had smaller, lower rooms. It wasn’t a castle, but a house. Its valley was pretty, and high on the hills behind it stood the Ronduel, a circle of ancient menhirs, but Pharinet doubted it would ever feel like home. She also suspected that Saska would grate on her nerves. A letter came from Valraven, addressed to Everna, informing her that he would be returning to Caradore in two weeks’ time. He trusted his sister had already finalized with the Leckerys the arrangements for his marriage. In fact, this topic had engrossed the women of both families since midwinter. Everyone was excited, but for Pharinet. She tried not to feel gloomy and practised imagining Khaster as a romantic figure, but all she could see in her mind was the lanky twelve year old, who had followed Valraven around, grinning crookedly and shyly whenever the girls had poked fun. Gowns had been made, and guests invited. Khaster and Valraven would be home for a scant two weeks, so the weddings were scheduled to take place at the same time, only three days after the men’s return. As the inevitable day approached, Pharinet felt sick with nerves. She dreaded seeing her brother again, while at the same time it was something she yearned for more than anything. The marriages were convenient because everyone could put her distraction down to prenuptial jitters. “You are so pale,” Everna said. Her face took on a serious cast. “Am I right in thinking you fear the bridal night?” Pharinet had, in fact, refused to think about it. She shrugged. “There is nothing to fear,” Everna said, and no doubt would have said far more, but Pharinet couldn’t bear to hear it. “It’s just that I’ll miss Caradore,” she said quickly. Everna frowned in concern. “But you won’t be far away. You can come home whenever you like.” She laughed. “What I mean is, of course, you can come to your old home. You’ll learn to love Norgance as much, I’m sure. It’s already a second home to you.” On the day of Valraven’s return, Pharinet went to hide on the beach. A green mist covered the trees, and beneath them fragile white snow poppies shivered in the wind. The air was still chill, yet perfumed with the smells of fresh growth and early flowers. Calves, lambs and foals wobbled in the fields. Life moved on, inexorable. “I am your priestess,” Pharinet muttered at the sea. “Aid me now.” But what did she want to happen? For Ellony not to marry Val? For Khaster not to marry her? What were the alternatives? The only way those things wouldn’t happen was if something terrible occurred—deaths. She went to sit in her sea-cave, and there watched the waves lick round the rocks. He might already be at Caradore, taking off his cloak in the great hall, greeting Everna and the staff. Would he say, “Where’s Pharry?” Would he come to look for her? She would be cold with him; he had not written. But then, neither had she. The sun sank into the sea in a great sulky glow. He wasn’t coming. Stiffly, Pharinet got to her feet and climbed up through the chimney of stone to the clifftop. She saw a horse cantering towards her, and her heart clenched in terror and longing. Then she saw the rider was Khaster. He pulled his horse to a halt beside her and dismounted. By the Spines of Foy, he looks different, she thought. Magrast had turned him into a man, but perhaps she should have intuited this before. “Khaster,” she said, inadequately. She was pleased to see him, she realized. He was an old friend she’d not seen for a long time. He could tell her things about Valraven. “You look like you were expecting someone else,” he said, in a tone that suggested he thought no such thing. “No, I was just lost in my thoughts. I didn’t think you’d be here.” She held out her arms. “I’m sorry. This is no welcome. Come here, Khas. I’m pleased to see you.” He embraced her and she noticed his arms trembled slightly. “You are the most beautiful sight on this world,” he said. “It’s good to be back.” They kissed without passion, like friends, then he drew away. His face was leaner, the muscles corded down his cheeks. There were fine lines around his eyes. Pharinet hooked an arm through one of his, and they strolled back to Caradore, Khaster leading the horse. “Has life been hard?” Pharinet asked. “You seem tired—and sad.” He sighed. “I’m not sad, Pharry. I’m glad to be home, even if it will be such a small handful of time. I’ve looked forward to this since I set foot in Magrast.” Pharinet noted this phrase. She had been right; homesickness had probably increased his love for her, but was that real? “How’s Val?” Khaster paused almost imperceptibly before answering. “He is well. Soon, you’ll see for yourself. He should be back from Norgance for dinner.” Pharinet was both relieved and disappointed that Val was not already at Caradore. She had difficulty imagining him paying court to Ellony. What were they saying to one another? Were they simply in each other’s arms? That would be easier, because then they wouldn’t have to talk particularly. The thought made her shudder. “Have you missed me?” Khaster asked. “I thought of you every day. You were the light that sustained me.” Pharinet laughed. “Khas! Don’t speak to me that way. It doesn’t sound like you, and we know each other too well. Since when have we been simpering lovers? We are betrothed and we are friends. Of course, I missed you, as I missed Val.” She paused and he did not respond. “I don’t mean to sound cruel. What happened in Magrast, Khas?” He shook his head. “Nothing much—yet.” Pharinet made him stop. She put her hands on his shoulders and he lurched towards her as his horse rubbed its nose against his back. What she saw in his face disturbed her. “You must tell me,” she said. “If you want the poetry and sham of romantic love, you are mistaken in me, but what you can have is loyalty and understanding. Speak to me. Tell me your heart. You are upset, I can see it in you.” For a moment, she thought he might speak, then he rubbed his hands over his face and fixed a smile there. “We’ll talk of it another time. I want to forget Magrast for now.” He laughed, but it was a sorrowful sound. “Dear Pharry, you and this land have been like a dream for me. That is why it was destined we should become betrothed before I left. It was an anchor to the past, to the gold of it.” Had the military training been so hard, or were the Magravands vile people? Had Khaster been bullied and scorned for being foreign? Pharinet was curious to know. The Khaster she had known had been an imperturbable creature, shy only of women. Something fundamental had changed in him. Did this mean that Val had changed also? At Caradore, a Leckery carriage stood in the courtyard. Pharinet’s heart sank. Val must have brought Ellony back with him, and probably Saska too. “Looks like your family is here,” she said. “My father returns tomorrow,” Khaster said. “In a few weeks’ time, they are sending him to the east of Cos. There’s trouble there.” “What kind of trouble?” Khaster looked at her keenly. “Do you really want to know?” She frowned. “Yes.” “Cos has been part of the empire for thirty years, but recently a resistance movement has sprung up. Terrorists attack the garrisons. It’s a nuisance and a potential threat if it gathers momentum, so Leonid and his generals have to deal with it. They do this by ordering disguised Magravand military to slaughter whole villages. Then they claim the terrorists were responsible. They say that the rebels will kill anyone who has knelt before an altar of Madragore. It’s a lie, of course, but it induces people to betray the rebels to the authorities, whether they’re friends, family or neighbors. Fear makes people do anything you want them to.” Pharinet was silent for a moment. “Are you being sent there, too? Is Val?” Khaster sighed. “There are other places for us
, Pharry. We don’t know where yet.” “How can you c” Pharinet began hotly, but Khaster silenced her by placing his fingers gently over her mouth. “We do what we have to, to keep you and everyone else in Caradore safe. You must not question or judge, just accept what is.” They had reached the steps of the castle. From inside, a scent of spiced wine drifted out. Pharinet could hear excited female voices. For a moment, she just wanted to be outside, in the wind, and embraced Khaster hard. “I will be your wife,” she said. “You must always talk to me. My ears will hear, and my heart will heal you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go inside.”
Sea Dragon Heir Page 5