Besieged (21 page)

‘I plan to send the boys out in a few years. The child won’t be ready. She should give it to the Wyrds as soon as possible. The longer she holds onto it, the harder it will be for her to give it up,’ Oskane said. He’d never really understood why Kolst put up with Hiruna. The man could have held a position of respect in his village. ‘She’s your wife. By law, she has to do what you say. You’ve been more than fair. Most men would have repudiated her when she produced the first half-blood and taken another wife. Most men would leave the babe with the Wyrds, take their wife and son, and go home.’

‘It’s Zabier I worry about,’ Kolst confessed. ‘The way he follows Sorne and Izteben around, he might as well be a half-blood.’

‘You have a responsibility to your True-man son,’ Oskane agreed. ‘I’ve put aside a sum to help you establish yourself when you do get home.’

Kolst looked up, and Oskane could see the longing in his eyes.

‘What will you do?’

‘I don’t know.’

I
MOSHEN FOUND
F
RAYVIA
dozing with baby Iraayel in her arms. She took the sleeping infant and placed him in his cradle, before turning back to her friend. The room was lit by moonlight, turning Frayvia’s hair and eyes black.

‘I know they sent you to spy on me,’ Imoshen said. ‘I know you owe your loyalty to the all-father, but even more to Ardeyne, your brother.’

Frayvia gasped. Imoshen’s guess was correct.

‘Now, will you answer my questions truthfully?’

‘When I can. I took a vow to serve the all-father.’

‘Fair enough.’ Imoshen sat on the bed under the window, so that she was in shadow, but she could see Frayvia’s face. ‘Why have they sent Reothe and not come themselves?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why can I sense Reothe’s gift so much more strongly than I could sense the all-father’s and his seconds’? They have to be more powerful than him. He’s only an initiate. Is it because my gift has grown this last half year?’

When she and Frayvia had not spoken of her gift, she’d gathered that it was a private thing, like the kisses Netaric and the cook had stolen when no one was looking.

‘If we speak of your gift, I must mention it in my report,’ Frayvia said at last.

Imoshen shrugged. ‘If my gift did not rise, that would be remarkable.’

‘I’m guessing the growth of your gift has made you more sensitive to theirs. I can show you the mental walls we Malaunje build to retain our integrity. As for this Reothe, he may simply be young and powerful. The gift surges erratically, until the T’En learns to control it. I know this, because they warned me against you and your gift. I haven’t been accustomed to the male gift. They warned me that your gift could manifest powerfully and I had to get away from you if that happened.’

‘So this Reothe is just unskilled?’

She nodded. ‘Or he may be trying to lure you. The male and female gifts are very different, yet they attract each other.’

Imoshen nodded her understanding. This was why she was irrationally drawn to him, and now that she knew, she could work on developing her defences. ‘Thank you. I don’t want you to feel torn by conflicting loyalties. I know my father is only trying to protect me.’

Frayvia hesitated, then nodded before disrobing and climbing into bed.

Imoshen slipped in beside her. Now that she was forewarned, she could have a little fun with Reothe. It would serve him right.

Now that she was forewarned, she wouldn’t mention how sometimes the world took a side-step and she saw things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t mention that sometimes she had nightmares where she was on her beloved island but it was subtly different. There were hungry beasts after her and even the sea was her enemy.

No, she wouldn’t mention any of those things, particularly as the nightmares happened when she was awake.

I
MOSHEN WENT LOOKING
for Reothe. During the three days he had been on the island, she had been testing him to see if he could keep up with her. She might not know much about the city, but she had read Sagora treatises and had no trouble following them. While she might surprise him, he was never left stranded.

Now she had a message to give him for her father.

She found Reothe wandering along the cliff edge. He was dressed for travel, reminding her that he went back to a world she had little knowledge of.

Up here on the cliffs, the wind was fierce, masking her approach. A smile tugged at her lips as she came up behind him. ‘This is one of my favourite places.’

He jumped and she caught his arm to steady him. Skin to skin, she felt his gift surge. It had been involuntary on his part, she was sure of that now.

‘Do you like the sea?’

‘I find it... fascinating. But threatening.’

‘Only a fool wouldn’t respect the sea. It doesn’t care for you or me. It could suck us under and kill us in a matter of moments.’

Great waves rolled in from the west, expending their power on the jumble of rocks far below in magnificent fountains of spray. She studied Reothe as he watched the sea. He seemed more aloof than usual today.

‘Dangerous and untamed,’ he said. ‘Yet this is your favourite place.’

‘One of my favourites.’

‘Which is your absolute favourite?’

‘Would you like to see it?’

He nodded.

‘Come on.’ She drew him down the cliff path, which was a challenge in itself, especially on windy days, to the huge jagged rocks that led like a giant’s stepping stones down to the sea.

Jumping a gap that was as wide as she was tall, she landed on the flat-topped rock that was her favourite. He joined her.

In front of them, the sea smashed into the rocks in a fury of foam and spray; a fine mist hung in the air.

‘This is my favourite place,’ Imoshen said. ‘Here, you know you’re alive. Every sixth or seventh wave is bigger than the rest. The trick is to recognise it before it hits.’

A gleaming green-blue wave rolled towards them, shattering around the rocks below.

Reothe’s gift surged and she rode his exhilaration.

‘You’re testing me, Imoshen.’

She rolled her eyes.

The next wave gleamed large, sullen and inevitable.

‘I can’t figure you out.’

‘Watch the sea, not me.’

He glanced that way. Swore. And fled.

They both jumped the gap and scrambled up the rocks just in time.

White water boiled over where they’d been before, shooting up in a sheet of spray that drenched them both.

As the sea retreated, Imoshen leapt to her feet, threw back her head and laughed.

He grabbed her shoulders. ‘You’re mad. Absolutely mad.’

She brushed his hands off, before her gift slipped out of her control. ‘If you can’t take it, don’t come back.’

And she ran up the path, leaving him behind.

S
ORNE COULDN’T CONCENTRATE
on his studies. For three nights in a row, Kolst and Hiruna had argued. It always began softly and ended up with Kolst berating her for being selfish. The baby was better off with its own kind. Think of Zabier. And then the tears would start and the baby would scream. No one got any sleep.

Now, as the
thunk, thunk
of the axe came from beyond the storeroom, where the penitents were chopping wood, he felt himself almost dozing off.

Zabier ran into the study. ‘Da needs you. Come quick.’

They looked to Oskane, who gestured for them to go.

The storeroom where Kolst kept his tools was empty, but they could hear raised voices from the patch of ground beyond.

‘...a man should be king in his own home.’ Joaken’s voice held contempt. His broken nose was a reminder of their last run-in. ‘Yet, she leads you around by your prick. You’re a ball-less wonder, Kolst. A ball-less Wyrd-lover!’

Through the door they could see their father confronting Joaken, while Denat and the cripple stood back, grinning. Kolst looked past Joaken’s shoulder to them.

The moment their father was distracted, Joaken pulled a knife and went for him.

Sorne shouted a warning and charged Joaken, but it was too far. Time seemed to slow. He saw Kolst deflect Joaken’s knife. Kolst was younger, but Joaken was a trained killer. The pair of them grappled, tripping over the chopping block.

Joaken landed on top of Kolst. But the time Sorne and Izteben reached them, blood was pooling under the wood-worker. They pulled Joaken off him, rolling him aside to kneel beside their father. He lay still, pale blue eyes staring up at the sky.

‘Da.’ Zabier threw his arms around Kolst, who blinked.

Sorne was so relieved he felt dizzy. They helped their father to sit up.

‘What’s going on here?’ Oskane demanded as he arrived with his assistant. ‘Well?’

‘Joaken pulled a knife on Da. He...’ Sorne gestured to the ex-mercenary and fell silent. The knife hilt protruded from Joaken’s belly. The penitent panted, bleeding profusely. Denat and the cripple stared in shock.

‘Franto.’ Oskane gestured to the wounded man.

As Franto knelt over the stricken penitent, Izteben and Sorne helped their father to his feet. Kolst swayed as if drunk and had to lean on the chopping block.

Franto reported softly to Oskane.

‘I’ve killed him, haven’t I?’ Kolst demanded. He was pale; blood covered his belly and thighs.

Hiruna came through the storeroom. She gave a cry of horror and ran towards him.

Kolst held her off. ‘I’ve killed a man, all because you won’t listen to reason.’ His hands shook and his voice cracked. ‘That’s it. We’re going.’

Hiruna took a step back, shaking her head.

Sorne’s mouth went dry with fear. Was he the only one who saw the flaw in their father’s logic? Nothing was Hiruna’s fault. They were all victims of the divide between True-men and Wyrds.

Kolst beckoned. ‘Zabier, come here. Help your mother pack.’

‘No.’ Hiruna looked desperate. ‘You can’t ask me to give up my baby daughter.’

‘She’s a Wyrd. She belongs with her own people.’ Kolst made an impatient gesture. ‘I’m leaving today. Right now.’

Hiruna stared at Kolst. ‘You’re in shock. You’re not thinking clearly.’

‘For once, I
am
thinking clearly. I should never–’

‘I’m not leaving Ma.’ Zabier threw his arms around Hiruna.

Kolst looked to Oskane.

‘You have to, son,’ the scholar said. ‘Your father’s word is law.’

‘Ma?’ Zabier lifted his face to Hiruna, who appeared stricken.

‘She has no say,’ Oskane told him. ‘Do as your father tells you.’

A rushing filled Sorne’s head. Everything seemed unreal. Before dusk, Joaken was dead, their father and brother were gone and it was like a light had gone out in their mother.

Chapter Seventeen

Year 307

O
SKANE MENTALLY REVIEWED
his list as he travelled. Almost seventeen years of studying the scrolls and observing the half-blood boys grow up, and four years of careful questioning of the she-Wyrd, and this was what he had come up with. The females were more powerful than the males, and they all needed touch to use their gifts. He’d discarded the instances of mass hallucinations and gift use without touch because they could not be verified.

Nothing had been found to protect True-men from the Wyrds’ power, although some men seemed to have natural resistance. Oskane suspected it came down to a person’s will and self-belief. He opened his travelling kit and fingered the malachite Franto had found when one of the boards covering the entrance to the mine had fallen down in a strong wind. Trust his assistant to go poking around in there. At the discovery of semi-precious stones, the street urchin in Franto had surfaced and he’d wanted to dig up more to guard against a rainy day. Oskane stopped him when he had enough to test his theory.

If a man believed that malachite could protect him, Oskane suspected it would; belief was a powerful thing.

The cart came to a stop. As Oskane climbed down, he took a deep breath. It was good to leave the mountains. At least you could get a decent chestful of air here.

His agent met him and took his bag.

‘You have her? A full-blood Wyrd?’ Oskane asked. ‘A T’En?’

‘The silverhead’s locked in the cellar.’ He gestured to the abbey’s burnt-out mill house. ‘You were right. She did not suspect the child who led her to us.’

‘Because the child did not suspect.’

‘I’d no idea it would be so easy,’ the agent said.

‘Only because you followed my instructions. If she hadn’t been concentrating on the child, she would have anticipated the blow to the back of her head.’

The agent chuckled. ‘My, but she was furious when she woke up chained to the cellar wall.’

‘She’s chained? So much for the stories of Wyrds manipulating metal,’ Oskane said. ‘And the volunteers?’

‘Six of them. All healthy young penitents.’

Oskane nodded and entered the burnt-out building. The roof had collapsed, letting in dusty shafts of sunlight.

Six young hopeful faces turned to Oskane. He repressed a feeling of regret. There was a good chance some or all of them would die.

‘The king thanks you for taking part. If you ever speak of what passes here today, the Father will turn His face from you. You will be buried in unsanctified ground and your soul will never know peace.’

They looked suitably frightened.

‘The Wyrds have grown arrogant and powerful, and the king has asked me to discover their weakness. I have been studying the Wyrd scrolls, and I have found that most of what you’ve heard about Wyrd power is a myth. They cannot bend metal with their will alone. They cannot control fire or the weather. And they cannot take over a True-man’s mind if his faith is strong. You will all wear these.’ He produced the malachite pendants from his bag. ‘This rare stone will protect you from their gift. After it is all over, I will purify you, so you don’t need to worry about being tainted.’

They nodded and stepped forward, one by one, to receive their pendant and blessing. Which would do precisely nothing, other than armouring them with the idea that it would.