ARC: Sunstone (9 page)

III

Sarra walked back along the quayside, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, looking across the Great Lake. The White Eye had nearly disappeared across the rim of the Caelum, and the crowd were beginning to realise that there wasn’t going to be a great revelation – that basically the appearance of what she knew to be the Light Moon in the sky meant no significant change in their lives, and everything would carry on as it had always done. The rich would stay rich and the poor would stay poor, and nobody would be saved.

The mood had turned from joyful to rebellious, and the Select had poured from the palace, distinct in their gold sashes, and were breaking up the crowd and sending everyone back to the districts. It was taking a while, though, excitement and despair and anger making the people unruly, and above the raucous singing the occasional yell or scream rang out, along with a splash as someone got pushed into the water. Occasionally an individual got frogmarched back through the palace gates.

Sarra couldn’t stop herself glancing up at what she now knew were Comminor’s private rooms. There were no lanterns on the wall at that height and therefore the long window remained in darkness, which was probably why she had never noticed it before. She could not see a figure there, and it was possible he was somewhere on the quay helping to regain order, but still a shiver ran down her spine at the thought that he could be standing there, watching her.

Her head was still spinning. The Chief Select was interested in
her.
She would not be a woman if she wasn’t immensely flattered by that. Of all the females in the Embers, all the rich women who would have done anything to be chosen, he had picked her.

She was baffled by his decision. Mirrors were rare in the Embers, but she knew from the occasional glance in the blade of her eating knife that she did not possess the sort of beauty so prized by their society, nor the plumpness that marked one out as wealthy. She had been puzzled enough when Rauf had shown interest, let alone his superior. She was nothing special.

Because of this, she could not help but feel convinced that Comminor had an ulterior motive. Perhaps he thought to gain her loyalty and then she would spill the details of the Veris like the sliced stomach of a salamander would spill slimy intestines.

His affection had seemed genuine though. His kiss had been soft, his eyes filled with amusement and interest, not determination or curiosity. She had been frightened of him because she had heard such awful tales of his cruelty, and yet standing there before him, she had found it difficult to believe in them. Was it possible for a man to be so gentle and tender one minute, so cruel and hard the next?

She shook off her doubts. Comminor had not known she was pregnant. His affections – even if they weren’t real – would not have been so fervent had he known.

Reaching the edge of the quay, she looked across the Great Lake to the far side. Nele was just visible, standing in the shadows by a shop that sold plates and bowls made from turtle shells, their agreed meeting point. Along from him she could see Turstan walking down the edge of the lake, ostensibly in his role as Select, but privately waiting for her to join them ready for the journey they were supposed to start that night. She could not see Geve, but she knew he would be there, as would the others, waiting for her.

They would be wondering where she had got to. They had agreed to meet just after the evening lanterns had been extinguished, but now she was an hour late, and she knew they must be starting to panic.

There was still time, she thought as a fight began just fifty feet away from her and numerous Select rushed to break it up. She could circumnavigate the lake and make her way to the others, and then they could slip away into the shadows and begin their journey.

She looked up into the darkness. Was he there? Was he watching her at that moment? Did he know they were supposed to be leaving that night – was that why he had chosen to find her during the ceremony? Or was it just a coincidence?

She could not risk it. Turning, she slipped through the crowd and made her way back through the Primus District to her rooms.

Sarra was standing in line in the communal food hall the next day when she felt a presence against her back and glanced over her shoulder to see Geve there. Her mouth curved automatically into a smile, but when he met her gaze, his eyes were stony and his lips stayed in a firm, hard line.

Her smile faded, and a peculiar ache twisted her inside. She had spent most of the night lying awake dreading this confrontation. She had tried to convince herself that he wouldn’t be angry, but it looked to be as bad as she’d feared.

“What happened?” he murmured, glancing around the hall to make sure they weren’t being watched.

She looked down at her hands miserably. They used to talk openly, but since she had entered the Veris, their communication was always conducted in whispers and in secret. She missed the gaiety of ordinary life, and she missed her friend. Why had she got herself caught up in all this?

“Comminor came to me,” she whispered.

Geve went still. “He knows?” His words sounded tight, forced out through gritted teeth.

“No.” She swallowed. “It was nothing to do with… anything. He wanted… to see me.”

“You?”

She moistened her lips. “He expressed an interest in me.”

For a while, Geve said nothing. They shuffled forward in the queue, and when they reached the table, she held out her bowl for that morning’s helping of porridge. The dark oats that grew in the northern Primus caverns cooked in goat’s milk did not look particularly appetising, but she knew she had to eat for the baby’s sake.

Geve received his breakfast and joined her at one of the tables. Luckily, following the celebrations, with most of the population having a hangover, the room was nearly empty and they were able to speak in privacy.

“Was he serious?” Geve asked.

Sarra met his gaze. For a moment she was speechless. She knew how he felt about her, had always known, right from when they were young. And she liked him. Who wouldn’t like the curly-haired joker with his teasing comments and his quick wit? But although she knew he would have liked to take their relationship further, she had never felt about him in that way. He had always been more like a brother.

Until she met Rauf, she hadn’t really understood why she had never urged Geve to court her. Geve was not harsh to look upon, he was gentle and considerate, and he liked her. He would never rank highly in the Embers’ strict social hierarchy, but she had no expectations in that regard and knew he could provide a stable enough existence for her.

It was only when she met Rauf and fell in love that she realised what had been missing in her relationship with Geve. She did not love him, and once she had tasted the strength of that emotion, she knew she could not have a relationship without it. Rauf had made her heart thunder, and no man yet had done the same.

Briefly she thought about Comminor, and how she had felt when he kissed her. Then she pushed the memory away.

Was he serious?
Geve had asked.

“I… do not know. Maybe. Although I cannot think why.”

Geve gave a wry smile as he ate his porridge. “I know you cannot. That is part of your charm, Sarra dear.”

“Geve, do not tease me. I am hardly the epitome of beauty. I am so thin my ribs show through my skin, and my hair does not shine like that of the ladies from the palace. I am not educated in literature or music, and I have no outstanding talents to speak of.”

He continued to look at her, the hardness in his eyes softening. “There is something within you that shines forth like a lantern,” he said. “I cannot explain it, but it has always drawn me to you. Rauf saw it, and now it seems that Comminor has seen it. I am not surprised.”

He wiped his lips and studied her thoughtfully. “Are you considering his offer?”

“Geve! How can you even say such a thing?”

“I would not condemn you for it,” he murmured. “Marriage to the Chief Select? You would never want for anything again.”

“It was not marriage he was proposing, and do you really think I would even think about it for a moment?” She leaned forward, guilt at the memory of how she hadn’t pulled away from Comminor’s kiss, forcing her to fake indignation. “I am part of the Veris, and I have sworn to guide you to the light. I do not go back on my word. Besides, he does not know I am pregnant. Can you imagine what will happen when he finds out?”

Geve shrugged. “Maybe nothing, if he wants you that much.”

“He would not want to raise another man’s child!”

“You know him so well, Sarra? He wants you – you do not know what lengths he will go to get you.” Her friend’s blazing eyes betrayed his jealousy. He knew he could not compete with the most powerful man in the Embers, and it burned him to the core.

She laid a hand on his arm. “He has given me a month. So we must escape within that time. I am still not sure he is not using me to get to the group. I am not as convinced about my ability to charm men as you are.” She winked at him.

He dropped his gaze and pushed the porridge around his bowl. “I am sorry. I should not be jealous. I have no claim on you.”

“You are my friend – the best friend I have. Of course my welfare is of importance to you.”

His eyes rose to meet hers. “You know you are more than a friend to me, Sarra. You know I would wish to be more to you than that.”

Words stuck in her throat as if she had swallowed brambles. “It would not be wise for us to pursue a relationship while Comminor insists he is interested,” she said cautiously. “He will be watching me. We should not even be talking really.”

Geve’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. Of course.” He went to rise.

She caught his arm. She could not bear for him to lose hope. He was a good man and he had set his heart on having her, but she knew he would never force himself upon her, and there were many men who would. He would make a good husband, and even though he did not make her feel as Rauf had done, she should not turn her back on such hope for her future, for her baby’s sake if not her own.

“Geve… If we do make it out of here, make it to the Surface and start a new life…” She hesitated and met his eyes. “I would be yours. If you will have me.”

He held her gaze. Passion and hope flared in his eyes, and for a brief moment Sarra saw him how he truly was – a man, not the young boy she had known all her life, thin and scrawny and with a high, infectious laugh. Although still slender, his shoulders had broadened and his muscles were firm, and for the first time she could imagine them under her fingers, her hands sliding beneath his tunic over his skin. He would make a good mate.

“Until the Surface,” he said, his voice husky.

“Until the Surface.” She watched him walk away.

Two men, she thought. Two lives that could not be more different. Both tempted her for different reasons. One was safe, promised security and protection for her and her child. One risked everything for the chance of a better life. Or maybe both terms could apply to each option? The thought made her smile wryly. Each choice had its risks. And its rewards.

Which should she choose?

CHAPTER SIX

I

Julen tracked Horada as far as the forest, only to find that her trail vanished about halfway into the woods. He had long suspected that she possessed similar talents to himself and that she knew perfectly well how to make herself invisible should she truly desire, and so the distinctive – to his eyes – blurring of the leaves down by the stream and the sudden absence of her aura did not completely surprise him. But he was concerned as to why she had suddenly had to employ her abilities, especially once he saw the charred footprints amongst the dry leaves on the ground.

With no other option, and not wanting to wander aimlessly through the countryside on the off chance of picking her up, he exited the woods and headed for Esberg, two days’ ride from Vichton.

The town was busy, filled with traffic passing through the countryside from west to east and also from the lands in southern Laxony up to the Wall, taking cartloads of wheat, oats and barley, plain and dyed cloth, and armour from the expert Laxonian blacksmiths to exchange for Wulfian beef, pork and fish, the superior crockery from the kilns on the clay lands to the east, and the jewellery and fine silverwork from Hanaire.

Julen passed unnoticed through the streets, blending in with his surroundings with his natural ability to camouflage himself wherever he went. He had never been able to describe how he did what he did to anyone, including his father, who had been the only one on whom it had not worked.

Julen’s nurse had come looking for him to tell him it was time for dinner. He was only seven, and, playing by the river and enjoying his game, he had watched with amusement as she hunted up and down the riverbank, yelling his name, unable to see him even though he sat in plain sight, his back against a tree trunk. She had gone back to the castle and returned with his father, and Chonrad had walked along the riverbank with her as she called Julen’s name, stopping a few yards down as it became clear she could not find him.

“Perhaps you would return to the castle and see whether he has come home,” Chonrad had said. “I will have one more look.”

The nurse had returned, grumbling, and when she had vanished, Chonrad had turned and looked straight at his son.

“Hmm,” Chonrad said, hands on hips.

Julen had stared back, shocked to find that his special trick hadn’t worked on his father.

“That is a very useful skill you have there,” Chonrad said. “How do you do it?”

Julen had just shrugged, because he had no idea. “I just think of myself as part of whatever I am touching and suddenly nobody can see me.”

A frown had flitted across Chonrad’s brow. “Does it work against stone?”

“No. Only trees and grass, and sometimes water,” Julen had replied, and it was true that his camouflaging ability was most successful when used with natural objects. To his surprise, his father had hugged him rather than scolded him for being late for dinner, but no more was said about his special ability, not even – Julen realised – to his mother.

As time had passed, he had been able to adapt his ability for most other substances, and now he found that wherever he was, be it city or countryside, he was able to blend himself into his surroundings and remain invisible to most eyes.

He still didn’t know why his father had been able to see him that day. He guessed it was something to do with Chonrad’s unique connection to the Arbor, and that his own skill was also somehow connected to the great tree.

Now, as he rode through the streets of Esberg, he drew the city’s anonymity around him like a blanket and used the shadows to blend in with the townsfolk. The bustling shopkeepers and tradespeople paid him hardly any heed. He reached the Silver Boar Inn without any hassle, left his horse with the stablehand to be rubbed down and fed, and entered the inn.

As he had been riding for several hours and was hungry, he ordered himself a meal of bread, cheese and sausages and a tankard of ale to wash it down with from the innkeeper.

“How are things in Esberg these days?” he asked the innkeeper as he poured the ale.

“So-so,” the innkeeper said. “Usual. Busy on market days like today. A bit hair-raising earlier in the week with the fires and all.”

Julen’s heart thumped in response, but he kept his pose casual. “Fires?”

The innkeeper passed him his tankard and then dried a couple of cleaned ones with a cloth. “Aye, strange it was. Flared up out of nowhere, as if a mighty dragon had flown overhead and breathed life into roofs and trees from the west gate to the east. Half a dozen there were, and nobody could say whence they started and who was to blame. Took us half a day to put them all out. Did some damage, I can tell you.”

“I can imagine.” Julen took a mouthful of his ale, but had to force himself to swallow. Was it the same elemental that had passed through Esberg that was hunting Horada? Icicles descended his spine at the thought.
Arbor keep her safe
, he prayed. He had hoped to protect her himself, but how was he to do that when she was purposely avoiding him?

He took his meal and ale to the fire and sat there to finish it. The person he was supposed to meet had not yet arrived, so he had a while to himself. Used to making the most of the precious spare hours he had, he pulled his hood over his eyes and promptly dozed off.

A kick to his feet, forcing them off the table, jerked him awake. He sat up, startled, hand already on the hilt of his sword, only to sag back with relief when he saw the man sitting opposite him. He had greying curly hair and a boyish look to his face, in spite of the fact that he was in his forties. He wore plain leather breeches and a nondescript brown tunic and cloak. Nobody would have guessed that he was the ambassador known as the Peacemaker.

“Gravis,” Julen said, glancing over at the bar. Only a few patrons were left, showing that the lunchtime rush had passed. Early afternoon, he thought. He must have slept for a few hours. Probably because he hadn’t had much sleep the night before – he had spent most of the night tracking his sister.

The Peacemaker linked his fingers and studied the younger knight with amusement. “Catching you sleeping, Master Barle? Thank the Arbor the invasion had not begun while you examined the inside of your eyelids!”

Julen smiled wryly and finished off the inch of ale he had left in his tankard. “I would have woken should the need have arisen.”

“If you say so.” Gravis looked over his shoulder at the innkeeper and signalled for two tankards. The innkeeper brought them over.

Julen studied the older man while he drank his second ale. When feeling nostalgic – which wasn’t often – and willing to relate some tales of the old days, his father had spoken much of the twins, Gravis and Gavius, and of the importance they had played in exorcising Anguis of the presence of the Darkwater Lords. Julen knew that Gavius had died at the hand of the Komis king after opening the portal of the Green Man carving in Komis, and that Gravis had opened the portal at the Henge in Dorle and then returned to Heartwood for the Last Stand.

Once thought the quieter twin, Gravis had shown his true worth after the Arbor destroyed its Temple and the country had to pick itself up and mend the broken alliances that had led to its downfall in the first place. He had displayed a surprising ability for diplomacy, and the man who headed the new Heartwood Council – Dolosus, the one-armed knight whose body had been made whole again by the Arbor – had lost no time in enlisting Gravis’s help as an emissary to the four lands to encourage them to maintain a truce and turn their attention from war to peace.

And Gravis, in turn, had enlisted Julen shortly after meeting him three years before, when he had accompanied Chonrad on a visit to Heartwood.

Julen realised shortly after he began working for the Peacemaker that Gravis’s role involved a lot more than merely talking nicely to the leaders of the four countries of Anguis. Gravis had spies in every town, and he worked closely with Nitesco and the University of Ornestan to utilise skills other than those involving the five senses to track down troublemakers and problems, which was one reason why he had asked Julen to join them.

“What is the news?” Julen said. “The innkeeper told me about the fires here this week.”

Gravis leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and cupped his tankard. “Yes, we have had more and more reports of similar outbreaks across Anguis. Nowhere seems immune – from northern Hanaire to western Komis, the world burns.”

“It will be soon then?”

Gravis nodded. “We think so.”

Julen hesitated. “I think the Arbor is beginning its call.”

To his surprise, the Peacemaker just nodded again. “I know.”

“You know about Horada?” Julen asked with a frown.

“Yes.”

“How do you know already? I only left two days ago!”

Gravis grinned. “You are not my only spy in Laxony.”

Julen’s lips twisted wryly. “So I do not need to relay the details then?”

“I know that your sister took off in the night and you lost her in the woods. And I know your mother and brother have set off for Kettlestan and are probably there by now. I am not sure of the sense of that plan. Hunfrith recently called five other lords to his castle – your family will not be in friendly company.”

“We are at peace,” Julen reminded him with amusement.

Gravis rolled his eyes. “You know as well as I that Wulfians do not really understand the meaning of the word. They have always resented the fact that a woman headed the Exercitus, and that she is such a strong woman only jars the more. A couple of the lords, like you, were not even born when the Darkwater invasion happened. They hunger for war – it runs in the blood. There are old scores to settle and debts to pay. They will not be immune to the current problems, and they will plan to make the most of any weaknesses they perceive.”

He put down the empty tankard and linked his fingers. “We must crush the Incendi invasion before it happens. Nitesco believes Chonrad’s children will play a prominent role in this, and it is imperative that we get you all to Heartwood as soon as possible.”

“As you so rightly pointed out, I lost Horada,” Julen said. “Not even I can track her when she is camouflaged.”

Gravis pushed himself to his feet. “I think I have something that can help you there.” He beckoned with his head for Julen to follow him.

His interest piqued, Julen rose and followed his mentor out of the inn. Gravis led him through the town streets towards the quieter southern district, and Julen realised they were going to the town’s temple.

Esberg’s oak tree was old, maybe nearly as old as the Arbor, so the records said. Although only a fraction of the size of the great tree, it was still impressive and arched over the walled-off area, scattering fragments of light like scoops of butter across the grass.

A couple of travellers were paying their respects and Gravis and Julen waited politely until they finished their quiet prayer and left. In spite of the fact that the Arbor had told Chonrad it did not want to be worshipped, it was difficult to erase a lifetime of habit from the common people’s lives. Although many rituals had been eradicated, it would take a lot longer for everyone’s beliefs to follow the same path.

When they were alone, Gravis led Julen underneath the tree’s branches. Casting a glance around to ensure they were not being watched, Gravis took the cord holding the oak-tree pendant that hung around his neck and lifted it over his head. He held it out to Julen.

Julen stared at it, not wanting to be rude. “I already have one.” He indicated his own pendant that he had worn since birth, which felt almost as much a part of him as his arms and legs.

Gravis smiled. “It is no ordinary pendant.” He turned it, and Julen saw it held an orange stone in the middle that sparkled in the sunlight.

“What is that?”

“A sunstone.”

“I have not heard of such a thing.”

“I am aware of that. Several of them were discovered recently in the bowels of the labyrinth beneath the Arbor – almost as if the tree wanted us to find them. I am interested to see what happens when you hold it.”

A tingle ran across Julen’s shoulder blades as he held out his hand, and Gravis placed the wooden token with its shining stone on his palm.

At first nothing happened, and Julen looked up guiltily, wondering if he had spoiled whatever surprise his mentor had planned for him. And then it began.

A warmth spread across his palm, then up his arm, moving rapidly through his body until he glowed with a pleasant, joyful feeling that made his face break out in a smile. He stared at Gravis in shock, having never had such an emotional reaction to an object before.

“What is it?” he asked.

Gravis reached out and touched it almost reverently. “It is from the Arbor.”

Julen blinked. Unlike other trees, the Arbor shed neither leaves nor branches, remaining whole and complete from The Sleep to The Shining. Taking a piece of the live tree was strictly forbidden.

“How…?” he whispered. “Why?”

“It is from Cinereo.”

Julen had heard of Cinereo, the mysterious leader of the Nox Aves, but he had not yet met him. He had once asked Gravis about him, but the Peacemaker had been unusually reluctant to share details.

Gravis rubbed a finger across the wood. “Cinereo believes that the tree is trying to communicate with us – with Horada, with you, with many others – to stop the Incendi invasion. Because of this, he asked the Arbor for help, and right there in front of him, a branch broke off and fell to the ground. This happened at almost the same time that the sunstones were found.” He touched a second one around his neck. “Nitesco had the wood made into pendants, each set with a sunstone. We are to give them to those who will play a part in the denouement. This is yours, and I have another you are to deliver to Horada. It will guide and protect you.”

“I would if I could find her,” Julen murmured, his fingers still tingling at the thought that he held a part of the great tree.

“More of that in a moment. But first… I want you to think of fire. Concentrate on the thought of it burning, and imagine a flame dancing here, on your palm.”

Julen frowned, but did as he was bid. He thought of a roaring log fire, imagining the heat searing through his veins.

Then, to his shock, a flame leapt to life on his palm. He yelled and dropped the pendant. The flame disappeared, and Gravis laughed.

“Do not worry. It will not burn you. The holder of a pendant is immune to fire. But remember that you can use it whenever you need light.”

Julen’s heart pounded – he had never experienced anything like that before. He picked the pendant up again, surprised that it was untouched, and not hot. “Arbor’s roots.”