Besieged (45 page)

Sorne had reached the screen. Flinging it aside, he dragged the spy out, pinned his arm up behind his shoulders and drove him to his knees. ‘And who is this, Marantza? An assassin?’

‘Hardly. It’s the Father’s-voice.’

‘Let me up, Sorne.’ His captive sounded disgruntled.

‘Zabier?’ Sorne released his hold and helped the priest rise, so he could study his face. Last time he’d seen his brother, Zabier had been a boy of thirteen. This was a man, with Hiruna’s jaw and Kolst’s eyes. ‘Zabier, it is you!’

He pulled him into a hug.

‘What’s going on, Father’s-voice?’ Marantza asked. ‘Why is this half-blood–’

‘I’m his brother,’ Sorne said, voice thick with emotion. He pulled back to feast his eyes on Zabier. ‘That’s a mighty fancy robe for a carpenter’s son. I guess it comes with being the Father’s-voice.’ Sorne felt a grin pull at his lips. ‘Ah, but it’s good to see you. How are Valendia and Hiruna?’

‘Who are these people, Father’s-voice?’ Marantza asked. ‘And why didn’t you tell me Charald’s priest was your brother?’

‘Choice-brother,’ Zabier corrected. ‘My mother was paid to be his wet-nurse.’

V
ITTORYXE SMILED AND
toasted All-mother Aayelora, but inside she fumed as everyone remarked how well Aayelora looked and how sharp she was for someone celebrating her hundredth birthday.

When Aayelora gave birth to the geldr, Vittoryxe had thought she would step down, but no; she held onto the sisterhood. Ten years ago, just before the all-mother turned ninety, Vittoryxe had gone to all the high-ranking sisters who owed her favours and gently reminded them of their obligations, but the all-mother hadn’t stepped down.

Vittoryxe had never imagined Aayelora would still be their all-mother at a hundred years of age.

The all-mothers of the other sisterhoods and their inner circles had come to the rooftop garden party to celebrate. As Vittoryxe drifted from group to group, accepting congratulations on behalf of her sisterhood and all-mother, she cursed her luck. Here she was, all-mother-in-waiting to the oldest all-mother on record.

Laughter drew her behind the refreshment tent, where she found her choice-son up to no good with Imoshen’s and Egrayne’s choice-children. All three gave a guilty jump.

‘Bedutz, go down stairs.’

His face fell, but he didn’t argue. He would turn thirteen this year. Time to send him to live with the lads. Time to harden him up.

‘As for you two...’ She turned on Saffazi and Iraayel.

‘Your pardon, gift-tutor,’ Saffazi said. The words were appropriate, but there was laughter in her eyes.

Saffazi and Iraayel ran off before she could chastise them. Egrayne’s choice-daughter was older than the boys, and the empowerer should be weaning Saffazi from her childhood friends. No point in growing fond of the lads you grew up with. Not when they were going to become brotherhood warriors.

Vittoryxe returned to Aayelora’s side, because surely she would announce her successor and step down tonight.

She didn’t.

Chapter Thirty-Six

S
ORNE FLINCHED.
‘W
HY
would you say that?’

‘Because it’s true. Father told me when we left the retreat.’

‘You came back to us. Why have you turned against me now?’

Zabier took a step away, bristling. ‘Why did you turn against me? I wrote, pleading for you to come back. I was only thirteen, trying to protect mother and Valendia, trapped in the city while King Matxin purged the kingdom of Charald’s supporters. There were executions in the plaza. The king wanted me to have visions and name his enemies. He gave me the lists of names and told me to say the Father had spoken. I didn’t know what to do. You never replied–’

‘I never got your messages.’ He understood why Charald would have kept them from him, but that didn’t mean he liked it. ‘I thought you’d rejected me because I’d stayed with King Charald. I’m sorry, Zabier.’

‘Zabier died eight years ago, when Izteben died.’ His features hardened, brows drawing together, and he fingered a ring, which Sorne recognised as Oskane’s. ‘I became the Father’s-voice. I had to, to survive. I’ve done things...’ His gaze slid away from Sorne and he went to stand beside Marantza. ‘I’m here to lend my support to King Matxin’s daughter.’

‘If you want to help Marantza, you’ll smuggle her out of the palace and give her sanctuary in the Father’s church. Oskane used to say, next to the king, the high priest was the most powerful man in the kingdom. In fact, he’s more powerful, in some ways, because the church endures, while kings come and go.’

Marantza eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why should I take your advice? Your loyalty is to King Charald.’

‘It doesn’t matter who my loyalty is to. These are the facts. King Charald is going to march in here and purge the kingdom of Matxin’s supporters. He’ll do it whether you live or die, Marantza. He’ll do it whether you are the Father’s-voice, Zabier, or whether some other priest takes the post. I’m trying to save your lives. Is that so hard to believe?’ He glanced around the chamber, spotting a door on the far side. ‘Where does that lead?’

‘To my bedchamber,’ Marantza said.

‘Is there another exit from your chamber? Because I have a dozen holy-swords in the antechamber who will report my actions, if I let you go out that way.’

‘We can get out through my bedchamber,’ Marantza said.

‘I’ll give her sanctuary,’ Zabier said.

Sorne noted the way he took her arm. So that’s how it was. That was going to be inconvenient for Zabier; priests were supposed to be celibate. This had never bothered Sorne, as he seemed to be numb to the desires of the flesh.

‘Zabier, you’ll need to find a disguise for Marantza. Do you have another priestly robe?’

‘I can get one.’

‘Do it. Leave now. Go straight to the Father’s church. From there you’ll both be in a better position to negotiate. Charald will need the support of the Seven’s churches to hunt down the rebel barons.’

Marantza and Zabier glanced to each other.

‘Go,’ Sorne said. ‘I’ll buy you the time you need.’

Sorne waited while they slipped out the door. When he felt that enough time had passed, he went to find the king. Charald was on the balcony of the throne room, sipping wine with Nitzane.

‘There you are. Pour yourself a glass,’ Charald said.

Sorne joined him, as the king gestured to the wharves. ‘My war barons are unloading their men-at-arms. In another day, this palace will be crowded with them, wanting their rewards, and with local nobility eager to prove their loyalty, along with the port’s merchants trying to insinuate themselves into my good graces. I already have a list of requests for audiences. At least I don’t have to put out fires and restore the water supply.’ He tossed down his wine and put his back to the balcony, resting his elbows on the rail. ‘Well, Warrior’s-voice? How cooperative are they going to be?’

‘Matxin’s daughter cedes you the palace and the city. She has sought sanctuary in the Father’s church, under the protection of the Father’s-voice.’

‘Has she just?’ Charald muttered.

‘As a sign of good faith, she revealed what the Chalcedonian barons are up to.’ And he repeated what Marantza had told him.

Charald grimaced. ‘So, I have to go around mopping up resistance before I can truly reclaim my kingdom?’

‘You have a city full of men-at-arms bristling for a fight. Send your war barons out to claim their estates.’

‘And what of my family’s estates?’ Nitzane asked.

Charald grimaced. ‘You’ve ridden on your brother’s coat tails ever since you came to me. Now it’s time to prove you can lead men. A baron who can’t support me in battle is a liability.’

‘Of course, sire.’ Nitzane said, quickly. ‘What of this Marantza? What will you do about her?’

‘What do you suggest I do?’

Nitzane opened his mouth then closed it.

Charald looked to Sorne. He had been doing this since they set sail, playing them off against each other.

Sorne was not going to oblige. ‘You know what you have to do, my king.’

‘What if she’s plain as a pikestaff and I can’t get it up?’

‘From what I’ve heard, that’s never been a problem for you,’ Sorne said.

Charald laughed.

Sorne went to leave.

‘Wait. There’s something else.’ Charald looked pointedly at Nitzane until he left them. As soon as he was out of hearing, the king snorted. ‘Old Nitzel would be turning in his grave. I guess the pup will grow into a wolf one day. Or at least a fox.’

Sorne said nothing. Nitzane was two years older than him. He’d been impulsive and careless for as long as Sorne had known him.

Charald studied Sorne. ‘Are you loyal to me?’

‘Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?’

‘No... There’s something preventing me marrying Matxin’s brat to secure the crown.’

Sorne waited.

‘I’m still married!’

Sorne blinked.

‘Yes, you and everyone else have forgotten, but I’m still married to Nitzel’s daughter. Matxin let her retire to one of the Mother’s abbeys where, as far as I know, she still lives.’

‘You want me to go and find out if she lives?’

‘I want you to go and make sure she doesn’t. I need a message from the abbess offering her sympathies on the death of my second wife, so that I can marry my third.’

‘I see.’ Sorne looked down. He had been the instrument of the deaths of tens of thousands of mothers and their children, throughout the kingdoms of the Secluded Sea, but he had never killed a woman or child with his own hands.

‘Is there a problem?’ Charald asked.

‘Do I leave before or after I’ve brokered this marriage?’

Charald barked a laugh. ‘You’re sharp, I’ll give you that. It’s a pity...’

He broke off and turned away, to look out over the port.

Sorne hesitated, not sure if he was dismissed. It had been a while since the king had had one of his irrational rages. They were unpredictable, but they were inevitable and they were getting worse. Perhaps it would be wise to complete his service and retire. But could he live without the thrill of wielding power? More to the point, would Charald let him? And if he did, where would he go?

‘Back in Restoration Retreat you had a vision,’ Charald said. ‘You saw me on the deck of a ship with a boy. But my son died.’

‘It wasn’t Prince Cedon. It was a much younger boy.’

‘You let me believe it was Cedon.’

‘I was seventeen.’ He lifted his hands, palms up. ‘You were the king.’

Charald nodded to himself.

Sorne was anxious to visit the Father’s church and see his family. ‘Am I dismissed?’

‘Yes, go.’

G
RAELEN CURSED HIS
luck. He’d arrived the very day King Charald’s fleet returned, and the streets were packed with Mieren. Between the locals, who ignored him and his Malaunje servants, and the foreign barons and their men, who stared openly at his party, it took the better part of the morning to thread through the packed streets. It didn’t help that he wasn’t used to riding and, after four days in the saddle, every step the horse took was agony for him.

To reach the docks and Chariode’s warehouse, they still had to traverse the wealthy part of the port. The quickest way was through the royal plaza. It was here that Charald had built his new palace, surrounded by the seven churches of the Mieren gods.

It was only the third time Graelen had been in a Mieren town, and the previous two times he had only been passing through. The weight of so many unguarded minds was punishing, but he had expected that.

What he hadn’t expected was to see one of his own kind dressed in priestly robes, leading six Mieren in the same attire across the plaza. It was only as the male passed that Graelen noticed the coppery streaks at the end of his braid. Malaunje. What had he been doing, for his hair to go completely white?

‘Who was that, Harosel?’ Graelen twisted in the saddle to speak to the Malaunje veteran who acted as his guide and bodyguard whenever he left the city.

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Ask around when we get to Chariode’s.’

Later that evening the veteran returned, and they retired to Graelen’s chamber. From here, Graelen could see the ships floating on the bay, lanterns reflected in the sea. It would be quite lovely if it wasn’t for... ‘What is that horrible smell? Fish?’

‘Seaweed. It’s low tide.’ The veteran smiled, then sobered. ‘The white-haired Malaunje goes by the title of the Warrior’s-voice.’

‘But he’s one of us.’

‘When King Charald came back from conquering the Secluded Sea, he had the Warrior’s-voice with him.’

‘Isn’t the Warrior one of the Mieren gods?’

Harosel nodded. ‘Apparently this half-blood has visions from the Warrior.’

‘Impossible.’

‘He tells the king what he sees, then the king acts on his advice. As a consequence, Charald has conquered the Secluded Sea.’

A Malaunje serving a Mieren king as his advisor. Graelen would have said it was impossible. As far as he knew, their kind did not live outside of Chalcedonia.

‘There’s more,’ Harosel said. ‘Apparently there’s a Mieren who calls himself the Father’s-voice. He served King Matxin. He came to power the night Matxin stole the throne from Charald.’

‘Don’t tell me he has visions, too?’

Harosel nodded. ‘Although Matxin’s dead and Charald’s back on the throne. Guess which one has better visions?’

‘They can’t have visions.’

‘The Mieren believe they do. And guess where they do it?’ He didn’t wait for Graelen to reply. ‘At holy sites.’

‘Holy–’

‘Places where the walls between the planes are weak.’

Graelen swore softly. ‘Where did you learn all this?’

‘Mieren taverns and whorehouses, mostly from off-duty palace guards.’

‘They let half-bloods in?’

‘Not on your life, but my hair’s going white, so I’m easy to miss. I keep my eyes lowered, not that these places are brightly lit, and my hands under the table. I listen and I ask the occasional question.’

‘What would happen if they realised?’

‘What do you think?’