Besieged (7 page)

The moment Rohaayel touched his devotee, the air in the tent became charged with his gift as Mariska amplified his power. If a T’En was powerful enough to sustain a devotee, then they in turn became more powerful. Of course, if the devotee died, the T’En was diminished, and if the T’En died, the devotee died with them. The high price a Malaunje devotee paid was the reason this kind of relationship had fallen from favour.

‘My love,’ Rohaayel whispered, kissing Mariska’s forehead with great tenderness. He looked up at the Malaunje warrior. ‘She came through unscathed. Thank you.’ He offered Tiashne his hand to gift-infuse her in gratitude. It was a rare courtesy, a special sign of favour from all-father to brotherhood member, yet the warrior hesitated.

‘Roh,’ Mariska whispered, her voice raw from screaming. She opened the swaddling cloth to reveal the baby. ‘We have a daughter. A perfect, pure T’En girl.’

No one spoke.

They stared at the tiny newborn, all kicking legs and round belly beneath the tied-off cord. There was no mistaking her gender.

It was not unheard of for a T’En man to father a pure T’En female, but it was rare enough that none of them had expected it.

‘A girl?’ Rohaayel repeated.

A girl would not return to the brotherhood and support him. She would join the ranks of the powerful T’En sisterhoods and help to repress the brotherhoods.

Better she had died, but Irian did not say so.

Ardeyne gestured to Tiashne. ‘Leave us, Tia.’

‘A girl,’ Rohaayel marvelled, as the Malaunje warrior gave the correct obeisance, her hands going to her heart to singnify love, then to her forehead to signify duty, before backing out.

‘What will we do now?’ Ardeyne asked.

Irian didn’t understand what he was asking. It was not as if they had a choice. The gender made no difference. If anything, it made honouring the covenant more imperative. He shuddered at the thought of the righteous indignation of the all-mothers...

‘Come,’ Rohaayel said. He sprang to his feet. With a final smile for his devotee, he drew them into the outer chamber. ‘We go ahead with our plan. Don’t you see? This is even better. We say the babe was stillborn and the mother is too ill to move. We–’

‘Keep her? Are you mad?’ Irian could not believe it. ‘What of the covenant? What of your gift-enforced oath? If the all-mothers find out, they’ll strip you of your power. Our own brothers would challenge us for the leadership. They’d kill us out of hand.’

But Rohaayel wasn’t listening. Instead, he spoke to Ardeyne. ‘It’s another three days’ journey to the headland. We signal the lighthouse to send a boat, as planned. We offer our Malaunje warriors a choice. Either they stay on Lighthouse Isle to protect the brotherhood’s investment, or they lower their defences and you erase their memories.’

So this was what they’d been about to tell him. The delays, the journey up the coast road instead of the inland route– it was all part of a larger plan to cheat the sisterhoods of Rohaayel’s T’En son.

Only it wasn’t a boy.

Irian looked to Ardeyne, hoping the voice-of-reason would live up to his name, but he was actually considering it.

‘I don’t know, Roh. A female T’En... She’s helpless now, but one day she’ll be able to kill us with a touch.’

‘If she’s trained. But if she never receives any gift training, she’ll be as ignorant as the first T’En born to Malaunje parents,’ Rohaayel said. ‘Besides, we won’t need to fear her, because she’ll be loyal to us. We’ll be all she ever knows.’

‘I can’t believe you are seriously considering this,’ Irian muttered. They both ignored him. He forged on. ‘This is larger than hiding one child. This breaks the covenant. The all-mothers will have to make an example of us.’ The horror of it strangled his voice. ‘What you suggest will destroy our brotherhood!’

‘No, it will set our brotherhood free.’ Rohaayel turned to him, eyes blazing with visionary fervour. ‘It will free all the brotherhoods.’

‘How? One woman can’t stand against the council of all-mothers. They’d unite against her–’

‘Of course they would,’ Rohaayel said. ‘But think about it. Even though they’re more powerful, we outnumber the women four to one. Why can’t we defeat them?’

‘We can’t trust the other all-fathers,’ Irian said. ‘If we lowered our gift defences, the all-fathers would turn on one another. Each would try to strip the others of power in an attempt to make his own brotherhood the greatest–’

‘Exactly. The women always work together. That’s why they won four hundred years ago. They united, while the all-fathers tore each other apart.’

‘If she’s untrained, how can she be of use to us?’ Ardeyne asked. For once, he was scrambling to keep up. Irian sympathised.

The all-father grinned. ‘When she’s old enough, but before she can begin to make sense of her gift, I’ll send one of our T’En warriors to seduce her. She’ll have a sacrare son. He’ll–’

‘A sacrare male?’ Ardeyne said. ‘There hasn’t been a sacrare male born since before the covenant–’

‘Really?’ Rohaayel’s voice brimmed with bitterness. ‘How do we know?’

Ardeyne was truly shocked. ‘Are you suggesting the all-mothers would murder–’

‘Why not?’ Irian answered, even though the question had been addressed to Rohaayel. This was his area of expertise, defensive strategy. ‘They choose when they tryst with us, so they know they aren’t fertile. If they birthed a sacrare boy, he’d be heir to great power. They couldn’t afford to let such a powerful male return to the brotherhoods. He’d rise to become an all-father. He’d be able to...’ He broke off as the scope of Rohaayel’s vision stole his breath.

‘Exactly. My sacrare grandson will unite the brotherhoods and crush the sisterhoods’ power once and for all. He will set us free.’

Ardeyne gasped, but Irian saw a flaw. ‘T’En women hardly ever carry a healthy baby to term. The chances of two T’En parents producing a healthy child are–’

‘...negligible. I know. This is because we no longer make the deep-bonding to allow the gifts to fuse during conception,’ Rohaayel said. ‘The women don’t want to be vulnerable.’

‘But she won’t know any better,’ Ardeyne said, catching fire. ‘Brilliant, Roh. She’ll accept the deep-bonding because she trusts us. She’ll be able to carry the babe to term.’

‘A sacrare boy, heir to great gifts, trained intensively from the age of thirteen under our gift-tutor, so that he’s ready by the time he is seventeen.’

‘So young?’ Ardeyne said. ‘He won’t have full control of his gift.’

‘He doesn’t need full control. He just needs to be a symbol, to unite the brotherhoods. We’ll be there to guide him.’

‘Thirty-four years,’ Irian said. Seventeen years for the girl to grow up, and another seventeen for the boy. ‘Can we hold the brotherhood together for that long?’

‘It’s not unheard-of for an all-father to rule a brotherhood for thirty years,’ Rohaayel said. ‘We’ll have to invite the strongest of the ambitious males onto our inner circle and let them in on the secret, to win their support.’

‘It is possible,’ Ardeyne said. ‘I swear we can do this.’

‘You’ll have to kill her right after she gives birth,’ Irian said. The other two looked at him in surprise. ‘I’ve read that carrying and birthing a sacrare baby can trigger a maturation of the mother’s gift. Even without training, she could become dangerous.’

‘Why would she be a danger to us, her beloved father and uncles?’ Rohaayel countered. ‘If we can get one sacrare warrior from her, maybe we can get more.’

‘Roh?’ Mariska called from the entrance to the inner chamber. She stood wrapped in a nightgown, beautiful wine-dark eyes ablaze with hope. ‘Tell me we’re keeping her.’

He strode over, took her face between his hands as if she was made of fine glass and kissed her lips. ‘The brotherhood’s keeping her. You won’t have to give up our baby.’

Tears of relief slid down her cheeks. He kissed them away.

Ardeyne looked across to Irian, confident and proud.

They could do this, Irian realised. They could cheat the all-sisters.

No, it wasn’t cheating – it was reclaiming what was theirs. If the all-sisters hadn’t been so determined to rob them of their sons, this wouldn’t be necessary. With this one daring decision, they would rebuild the very foundations of T’Enatuath society.

‘My clever devotee,’ Rohaayel crooned.

‘What will we call her, Roh?’

‘Imoshen,’ Irian said.

‘What?’ Ardeyne baulked. ‘But–’

Rohaayel laughed.

And Irian laughed along with him, because this Imoshen would undo all that her namesake had achieved.

Let the sisterhoods chew on that!

Chapter Six

O
SKANE’S LAST OFFICIAL
act as high priest was to appoint his successor. He handed the decree to his personal assistant, Franto. ‘Have six copies made. I will sign them all and apply the official seal. Be sure one copy is kept here with the Father’s church. The remaining six are to be sent to the other churches of the Seven.’ To circumvent any plans Nitzel had of elevating one of his cronies to the position of high priest of the Father and controlling the power of the Seven’s churches.

Small-boned, quick as a sparrow, Franto tilted his head and sent Oskane a wry look. He was already overloaded with preparations to leave the port. ‘Anything else?’

‘Have you secured the servant I mentioned?’ The wet-nurse, but he couldn’t say this in front of his replacement, Edorne.

‘Not yet, but I will if you let me get on with it.’

Oskane gestured for him to go and Franto scurried out.

‘You shouldn’t let him speak to you like that, Uncle.’

‘I trust him implicitly.’

Edorne did not look convinced.

‘You will report to me. I must know what Baron Nitzel and the king are up to.’ He leaned forward, dropping his voice even though they were alone. ‘Beware Nitzel. He will try to win you over with promises of an alliance, but he is not to be trusted.’

‘I’m no fool, Uncle.’

‘Which is why I chose you to replace me.’ His nephew was smart, but he didn’t have nearly thirty years experience of court politics.

‘And I am honoured to follow in the footsteps of Oskane the Pious.’

Oskane had the grace to look down. His daily flagellation was common knowledge. Each time he took the holy scourge and punished himself in search of the divine, he dug deeper into the hollow core of a man who could see only human frailty and chance behind events both great and small. And he prayed even harder for a sign from the gods.

Pouring two goblets of wine, he passed one to Edorne. ‘To the new high priest.’

Edorne took a sip, then put his cup down, as abstentious as he was fastidious. ‘You say you are stepping down from office to carry out a special service for the king?’

‘For him and for Chalcedonia.’

‘Surely as your successor I should know the nature of this service?’

Oskane drew breath to tell him, only to discover he was reluctant to admit he would be raising a half-blood child, even if that child was the king’s unwanted son. Edorne was an educated man, but he had a True-man’s natural repugnance for anything Wyrd. ‘It would be safer for you if you didn’t know.’

‘Where you are going?’

‘Your reports will be forwarded to me.’

‘All this secrecy... is it truly necessary?’

I just saw the queen murdered. What do you think?
Oskane raised his glass. ‘To Chalcedonia, and the church curbing the worst of the king’s excesses.’

Edorne took another sip. ‘You can trust me.’

He could. Because Franto had appointed an agent to report on the new high priest.

Oskane put his wine down unfinished. ‘I must go.’

‘It’s mid-afternoon. Surely it would make more sense to leave early tomorrow?’

Oskane shook his head. The longer he stayed, the more chance someone would discover the infant and want to know what he was doing with a newborn. The more chance Nitzel would decide one of his trusted servants was a better choice to train the king’s half-blood son. Forcing down his impatience, Oskane gestured to the map of Chalcedonia and the many islands off the coast. ‘I have a hankering to live on an island.’

He was going inland and south.

‘Very well.’ Edorne came to his feet and opened his arms for a parting embrace. ‘I will miss you, Uncle.’

Bless him, he meant it. Oskane felt tears burn his eyes and was surprised by the depth of his reaction. As he pulled away from the embrace, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by his nephew. But there was no time for doubts.

When he entered his private chambers, he found a raddled female fingering the rich brocade of his formal robe. The wet-nurse? Was this the best Franto could do? The smell of her made him wrinkle his nose. ‘Don’t touch that.’

She jumped and snatched her hand back. ‘I didn’t hear you–’

‘Obviously. If the babe wakes, keep him quiet. Sit there and do not move.’ He pointed at the velvet stool where he sat each morning while Franto washed and oiled his feet. Surely she was too old to be a mother? ‘You are a wet-nurse? You can feed him?’

She nodded and went to unlace her undershirt.

‘No need for that,’ he said hastily then strode back through the hangings to the outer chamber to find Franto and complain. But his servant had six penitents lined up. There was a cripple, and a boy of seven, and the other four were all over forty. ‘These are our servants?’

‘You want them to agree to leave the port, leave their families and sign on to serve for seventeen years,’ his assistant said. ‘This is what you get.’

Oskane sighed and gestured to the penitents. ‘Kneel.’

They sank to their knees and lifted their faces. He went to each one and said the words, then stepped back. ‘Now sign your names, or make your mark, and your souls will be saved.’

‘Even if we die before our times have been served?’ one asked. He had a conniving cast to his features, and Oskane didn’t want to think what he had done before becoming a penitent.

‘That will make no difference.’ Because, unless the gods proved otherwise, there was no next world. ‘Fetch your bundles and meet us in the courtyard before the next prayer bells.’