Besieged (26 page)

As he took her shoulders in his hands, a sick dread filled Imoshen; she already knew what he was going to say. Karokara had tried to warn her.
You’re a prisoner...

‘I love you,’ Reothe said. ‘I have from the day you took me down to the rocks and nearly drowned me. But I haven’t been entirely honest with you. This island is your prison.’

Imoshen hadn’t wanted to see. A moan escaped her.

‘I’m sorry.’ He hugged her, pressing his lips to hers, then pulled back. Tears slipped down his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I would never have lied to you, but it’s for a great cause. They plan to use our sacrare son to unite the brotherhoods and free us from the covenant.’

‘What covenant?’

Frayvia made an impatient gesture. ‘You’ll have to tell her everything now.’

O
SKANE CURSED.
K
ING
Charald had refused to meet him at Enlightenment Abbey. He smoothed out the paper, passing it to Franto. ‘I can read between the lines. He listens to Nitzel, who tells him I am delusional.’

‘That’s easily disproved.’ Having read the reply, Franto folded it and returned it to the packet. ‘Tell them to come here.’

‘But it’s unclean.’

‘Not any more. Now it is a doorway to the gods.’

‘They’ll refuse outright. The taint–’

‘There is
no taint
.’

‘But they will think there is. That’s why I wanted to meet them in the abbey. I was going to tell them in person when I showed them the drawing of Sorne’s vision!’

‘Anyone can do a drawing. Much better to set up a demonstration. Have the half-bloods make another offering. Stage another vision, one that favours your cause.’

‘The vision was real.’

‘As you say,’ Franto agreed. ‘But that doesn’t mean the half-blood can’t have a vision that suits your purposes.’

‘Ask him to lie for me?’ Oskane shook his head. ‘I don’t want to put the idea of lying into his head. He and Izteben are innocent of deception.’

‘They’ll need to lie convincingly when you send them into the Wyrd city.’

‘I’m not sending them, now. I know’ – he shrugged – ‘seventeen years of training for just that purpose. But why waste them as spies, when I can use them to communicate with the gods? Through them I can regain leadership over all seven churches. With the power of the church behind me, and Charald listening to my advice, I can restore my family’s fortunes.’

‘Only if you can convince Charald to come here.’ Franto’s face lit up. ‘We have the bag of malachite Denat tried to steal. I could slip into the palace and bribe my way in to see the king, then plead your case.’

Oskane shook his head. ‘I don’t want you appearing before Charald and Nitzel as a supplicant. I want them to come to me.’

‘Then negotiate from a position of power. Promise them a vision from the Warrior if they come here, to the holy site!’

‘Holy site, that’s very good. And you’re absolutely right. The Warrior is Charald’s patron god, he won’t be able to resist.’

Oskane was halfway though the message when a noise from the courtyard interrupted him. ‘What is that commotion?’

Franto went to the window and opened the shutters.

‘The half-bloods have opened the gate to someone. It’s...’

‘Zabier!’ Izteben’s cry reached them. ‘Ma, it’s Zabier.’

‘Zabier and Kolst?’ Oskane came to his feet.

‘No sign of Kolst. Just the lad. How old is he now?’

‘Thirteen next spring, same age as Prince Cedon.’ Oskane looked down through the maple tree’s bare branches to see Sorne hugging Zabier, lifting him right off his feet.

‘Scholar Oskane!’ Zabier spotted them. ‘Master Franto. I’ve come home.’

‘Zabier!’ Hiruna ran out of the stables, leaving Valendia to trot along behind her. She threw her arms around her son and kissed him, weeping.

Franto wiped his eyes and Oskane cleared his throat. He frowned. ‘If Kolst did not bring the lad, how–’

‘He found his way back to us, Ma,’ Izteben said.

‘All the way on his own,’ Sorne said proudly.

Oskane stepped away from the window. ‘If a boy of twelve can find us...’

‘Then Nitzel’s agents could find us,’ Franto conceded.

‘We’ll be safer in plain sight, negotiating from a position of power. They must come here.’ Oskane sat down to finish writing his reply. ‘Send the boy up.’

A few moments later, Zabier entered.

Oskane put his nib down. ‘You have returned. What happened?’

‘Da used the gold you gave him to build a fine house for the family and improve his brother’s business.’ Zabier licked his lips nervously. ‘It was a mistake going back. Da fought with Uncle. When Da turned up drowned in the millpond, Uncle blamed it on drink, but he hardly ever drank. Uncle treated me like a servant. My cousin teased me because I could read and write. I had a big fight with him and he said I’d end up floating face-down in the millpond like Da. So I came back.’

‘Very wise,’ Oskane said. ‘The church is a good career for a smart lad. You could go far, but you’ll have to work hard at your studies.’

‘I don’t mind as long as I can be with my family.’

‘It’s decided then. Off you go.’

Franto stepped into the study and closed the door. ‘You need to tell the half-bloods there’s been a change in plan.’

‘The goal was always to crush Nitzel and restore my family’s fortune. Spying on the Wyrds was only a means to an end.’

‘Then you need to make it clear they will be serving the church and king in a new, more important capacity.’

S
INCE
Z
ABIER’S RETURN,
Sorne had smiled so much his face hurt.

‘...I always meant to return,’ Zabier was saying as they ate. ‘So I marked all the important places in my mind.’

Hiruna laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. ‘My clever, clever boy!’

‘Clever boy!’ Valendia repeated.

‘Oh, Ma,’ Zabier whispered. ‘I’ve missed you all.’

After she’d put Valendia to bed, Hiruna took Zabier with her to cook the meal for the scholar and his assistant.

As Izteben watched them leave, he said, ‘I can’t believe it, Zabe has seen more of the world than we have. Our clever little brother.’

Sorne felt a pang of remorse. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Izteben they weren’t really brothers. There had never been the right moment, and it didn’t seem to matter since they were as good as brothers anyway.

‘This is my chance to read the latest messages,’ Sorne said. After he’d discovered the truth about himself, he’d made it his business to read all the messages from Oskane’s agents, dating right back to when they first came to the retreat. He knew his uncle, Matxin, was eager to restore the family’s fortune, and he knew the king saw threat everywhere. If it wasn’t his barons fomenting revolt, it was the rulers of neighbouring kingdoms after his throne.

Sorne took a needle and thread from Hiruna’s sewing basket. ‘I promised the she-Wyrd a new silver button. The last one’s gift residue is worn out. Keep watch for me?’

As they crept across the courtyard, they could hear Hiruna happily singing to herself as she cooked. Oskane and Franto sat chatting by the fire.

Sorne left Izteben to keep watch, then slipped up the stairs to the scholar’s chambers. He went straight to the packet of messages on the desk, next to a letter in Oskane’s hand addressed to King Charald.

Sorne made himself study the messages first. He knew the different agents’ hand writing. There was one in the Seven’s church in Port Mirror-on-Sea who had a spy at the palace. He reported on the doings of Baron Nitzel, the ins and out of court politics and the rivalry between the churches. There was one at Enlightenment Abbey, who collected reports from churches and abbeys all over Chalcedonia, and there was Baron Matxin, his mother’s brother. And tonight there was a message from King Charald himself. Sorne opened it. To think, his real father had held this paper.

Charald refused to meet at Enlightenment Abbey. Disappointment stung Sorne. The king’s excuses were flimsy. It was winter, he had pressing duties and the other kingdoms bordering the Secluded Sea were plotting against him.

Next Sorne read Oskane’s letter addressed to King Charald.

In it, Oskane claimed unclean places were really pathways to the gods – holy sites. And he took credit for Sorne and Izteben’s discovery. There was the mention of a vision from Charald’s mentor god, the Warrior. What’s more, Oskane had offered the king a chance to see the holy site, and to attend a ceremony where Sorne had another vision.

His stomach clenched with fear. Last time, they had been lucky to escape with their lives.

According to the she-Wyrd, only T’En could have visions, but when Sorne had described in detail how it had happened, she no longer sounded so sure. Which reminded him...

Placing the letter on the desk, he slipped into the scholar’s bedchamber. He took the chest out from under the bed and unpacked the robe, then went over to the fire to see more clearly. Knowing now that what he felt was the residue of a murdered T’En, his skin crawled with a mixture of revulsion and longing.

But he hadn’t spent years under the scourge for nothing. He concentrated on his task. It was the work of a moment to remove a fresh button and sew the old one in its place. Now Oskane would never know.

An owl called, then called again.

Moving swiftly, Sorne put the robe back into the chest and slipped out.

Oskane’s voice echoed up the stairwell as he spoke to Franto.

Sorne couldn’t go down. He couldn’t go back, either; while he could jump to the wall-walk, the open shutter would betray him. Sorne leant the back of his head against the wall, cursing under his breath.

Right above him, he saw the cross beams of the roof, hidden in shadows.

Climbing onto the banister, he reached up, caught hold of the beam and managed to hook his legs over it. He swung his weight onto it, then crept out over the stairwell until he was above the landing between the second and third floors.

Not a moment too soon. Oskane and Franto passed under him.

‘...we’ll save the bag of malachite for an emergency,’ Oskane was saying.

Sorne held his breath, but neither of them looked up. They passed into Franto’s chamber and closed the door.

Carefully, he lowered himself back onto the landing and hurried down the stairs.

As he stepped out into the moonlight, Izteben grabbed him and shook him. ‘I was worried sick!’

Sorne laughed as if he hadn’t nearly been caught, and they went down to see the she-Wyrd, who was waiting for them.

‘I managed to get–’

She snatched the silver button from his outstretched hand and ran into the darkest corner.

Izteben gave a bark of laughter. ‘We risked the scholar’s ire for that.’

‘I thank you for the gift-infused token,’ the she-Wyrd whispered from the shadows. Her voice sounded richer, and Sorne could already detect a change in her scent. He felt nothing but contempt.

‘The king is going to come here and I’m going to win him over with a vision,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to be a messenger of the gods. Did you hear? Izteben and I are going to serve the king.’

Still no reaction.

‘Come on.’ He turned on his heel and strode towards the stairs.

‘Even if the Mieren believe you are messengers of their gods,’ she called after them, ‘in their eyes you will always be filthy Wyrds!’

Chapter Twenty-One

I
MOSHEN HELD HER
newborn so that his head lay on her chest, close to her heart. She still found it hard to believe he was real, had to keep checking that he was breathing. Reothe stretched out beside her as they talked about the gifts, what life was really like in the city and how Rohaayel would make a better life for everyone. She’d felt angry and betrayed at first. But now, from what Reothe told her about T’Enatuath society, she saw that they were all trapped, Malaunje and T’En, male and female.

Frayvia sat on the end of the bed with Iraayel in her arms. He’d been fascinated by the newborn, but when the baby did nothing other than sleep, he’d lost interest.

Now he sat up. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Me too.’ Reothe swung his legs off the bed and held out his arms. Iraayel jumped off the bed, and Reothe caught him, swung him around then set him on his feet, laughing.

Imoshen smiled up at them. She felt raw and fragile, but she was happy.

‘I’ll tell the all-father the good news.’ Reothe grinned. ‘You’ll be swamped with visitors.’

‘Give us a few moments to clean up,’ Frayvia said.

Reothe took Iraayel’s hand and left.

I
RIAN WARMED HIS
hands at the fire, while Torekar poured wine.

Rohaayel accepted his glass. ‘To our sacrare.’

The others echoed his toast.

Irian put his goblet down. ‘Reothe’s taking a long time. I’ll check on him.’

‘Tell him a watched pot never boils,’ Ardeyne said.

‘He’s made the deep-bonding with her. I’m guessing he’ll be tempted to ease her pain by sharing it,’ Bedettor said. ‘We might not see him all night.’

Irian smiled as he headed for the door. It opened to reveal Mefusun, who strode in on a wave of threatening male gift.

Irian backed up swiftly, glancing to Ardeyne. The voice-of-reason took a step closer to Rohaayel, as Bedettor and the devotee joined them.

Another seven men followed Mefusun into the dining chamber. They spread out across the far side of the room, cutting off the door to the hall and lighthouse. Even from this side of the room, Irian could feel their aggressive power. He assessed the odds. Eight against five, and one of his men was the Malaunje, Torekar.

‘What are you doing here, Mefusun?’ Rohaayel asked.

‘Twice now, I’ve been passed over. So I asked myself, why doesn’t the all-father offer me a place on his inner circle? Then I heard the merest whisper of a T’En female, hidden in a tower. Impossible, I thought. But–’

‘You didn’t follow us out of the city,’ Irian said. He’d made sure.

‘No. We were waiting across the bay, and sure enough, you took a boat to the island. I’m guessing you have her shut in the lighthouse.’ His brows drew down. ‘What were you thinking? She’ll turn on you, turn on us all.’