Part 6 (1/2)

*Ceyne is a good man in a difficult position.'

That was what Graelen had always believed. He released his knife hilt. *What does the saw-bones say?'

*He says that you are also a good man in a difficult position. Is he right?'

*I don't...' Graelen broke off as several adepts came out onto the deck. He tensed, watching them.

When he turned back, Tobazim was gone. But they had seen them together. If the all-father found out, Kyredeon's paranoia would lead him to a.s.sume the worst.

There was only one way to prove his loyalty a” kill Tobazim.

IMOSHEN SERVED MINT tea to help settle seasick stomachs. It was evening of their first day at sea, and everyone suffered. She was lucky; having grown up fis.h.i.+ng in small rowboats, she had no trouble with the pitching of the deck.

She lit the lamp, turned it down low and hung it from the hook, then surveyed the cabin full of moaning women and small children. It was going to be a long night.

Towards dawn there was a reprieve and nearly everyone had fallen asleep. Her devotee, Frayvia, was just as sick as the rest, but she told Imoshen to rest.

*I think I'll get some fresh air.' She slung her cloak around her shoulders and went out on deck. It was a clear, bitingly cold night, with a faint hint of grey in the east.

Imoshen's heart filled with joy. Exile meant change, and she welcomed it.

Eventually the chill became too much and she returned to the cabin to find all was quiet. Frayvia had taken the chance to dress for the day and was kneeling next to her chest. When she noticed Imoshen, she rolled something up and went to put it away.

*What's that?' Imoshen whispered.

*A gift from Sorne,' she said, after a moment's hesitation. Imoshen's gift surged; Frayvia's reluctance to reveal the object sprang from the depth of her feelings for Sorne. *It belonged to his mother. It's the only thing he has of hers.'

*Then it is a very rich gift, indeed,' Imoshen said. *Can I see?'

Frayvia placed the neck torc in her hands.

*I don't recognise the design.'

*He believes it came from across the eastern mountains.'

*That explains the stone. I've never seen anything like it. Such a vivid blue.'

Frayvia flushed. *Sorne used to wear the torc when King Charald asked him for a vision. It would glow when the predators from the higher plane came through.'

*Sorne...' Imoshen hesitated. As a Malaunje, Sorne had no innate power. She believed, had he been born T'En, he would have been a seer, capable of calling up visions. Being Malaunje, Sorne had siphoned off power from the empyrean plane to trigger his visions, but to do this... *He risked death each time he had a vision. He's lucky the empyrean predators he summoned were satisfied with the offerings he made. The gift residue in T'En relics would not have been enough for the really dangerous beasts. They could have a”'

*I know.' Frayvia shuddered. *He's promised not to seek any more visions.'

*I'm glad.' Imoshen hugged Frayvia and returned the torc. *I think you should wear this with pride.'

Frayvia smiled and fastened the torc around her neck.

Imoshen was glad Sorne no longer risked his life to gain visions, but with the T'Enatuath sailing into exile, her people could have used the guidance of a seer. There had not been one born for hundreds of years.

They did have a scryer, who was able to search for possible future paths, but their scryer had been injured the day All-mother Reoden's daughter was murdered. The scryer could not forgive herself for failing to foresee the attack, and her gift had been blocked ever since.

One of the children moaned in their sleep, woke up and vomited. This disturbed the others and set them off. Imoshen hoped, for all their sakes, they would find their sea-legs soon.

Chapter Six.

JARAILE HAD NEVER seen the Wyrd city. She'd heard it described as a cesspit, and also as one of the wonders of the world. Approaching it that afternoon, after three days' muddy ride from port, it certainly lived up to its reputation for beauty. It stood on an island in the lake. A ribbon of white causeway stretched out to the city. The walls and buildings were a brilliant white. There were gardens on the roofs, mostly barren now, except for the occasional pencil pine.

*The closest end, the low end, is where the brotherhood palaces are. They were given to the barons as a reward for their loyalty. Apparently they drew lots when the Wyrds left,' Eskarnor told her. He adjusted her b.u.t.tocks across his lap and she could feel him pressed into her flesh. She knew what he would do once they were alone in the palace. *Beyond the next wall are the shops, theatres, eateries and a park. Behind the last wall, on the peak of the island, are the sisterhood palaces. Charald had declared them his, but by tomorrow morning, I'll be claiming them.'

*The Chalcedonian barons won't swear loyalty to you.'

*I think you underestimate how much they hate your husband. There is not one baron amongst us who hasn't felt the force of his irrational rage. Fear is all very well for keeping men in line, but when a man does not know if his king is going to turn on him in a rage, then fear becomes a goad to action.'

Jaraile suspected he was right. The king had always had a temper and bullied his way through life, but these last few years, she'd seen even Charald's trusted advisors recoil in horror.

They rode down the causeway towards the gates.

*Your men-at-arms were sent a”'

*a” to my estate, which lies far to the north. It's huge, but that's because it's so barren. Frankly, it's an insult, considering my service to King Charald.' Then he laughed. *Sorne had men watching the port for signs of my warriors gathering, but he didn't bother to watch the army besieging the Wyrd city. And he wouldn't have thought anything of it, if he had, because I was ent.i.tled to a contingent of men to claim my palace. The rest have slipped back and been secreted throughout the tents of my loyal barons.'

Jaraile's mind raced. If Eskarnor had been allowed to retain a contingent of men here, then Nitzane must have men here, too. If she could just work out which palace was his and escape, she could claim sanctuary with them.

By the time they rode through the gate, one of the baron's men was waiting to escort Eskarnor to his palace.

*Captain Pataxo,' Eskarnor greeted him with a laugh. The baron was so different from Charald a” ruthless, yes, but also ready to laugh, especially now that his plans had finally come to fruition. *Where's my palace?'

*It's the last one on the north side of the city.'

*Good. I want all the barons and their honour guards invited to tonight's feast,' Eskarnor said.

Pataxo's gaze skipped over Jaraile, but it was clear he knew who she was. *It will be done. We're lucky we didn't get the ruined palace. Nitzane's man drew the short straw.'

*Which palace is that?' Jaraile said.

Eskarnor pinched her. *Don't even think it.'

She looked up at him, startled.

*I'm no fool, Raila.' Eskarnor grinned. *Besides, if you took refuge with Nitzane's men, I would have to kill the lot of them. You don't want to be responsible for their deaths, do you?'

She sank down. He had outsmarted Sorne, who was the smartest man she'd ever met. Perhaps there was no hope. Perhaps she was destined to be the prize of cruel bullies.

No. She had her son to think of. She must not give up hope. But she could let Eskarnor think she had. She slumped in his arms, as if dejected.

That evening Jaraile dressed in looted finery. Eskarnor decked her in silks and brocades. Above her, on the rooftop garden, she could hear the feast getting underway, with much singing and drinking.