Exile (6 page)

‘Let’s see how arrogant they are, now that we’ve called their bluff,’ Charald said and the barons muttered approvingly.

The True-men’s bravado amused Sorne. It was the first time he’d seen Charald’s party afraid of the inhabitants of a besieged city. When the Wyrds stepped out onto the causeway, their lanterns cast light up the wall to the defenders on the walkway above them. Sorne caught the glint of armour, pale faces and helmets.

The first three T’En who approached wore shimmering silk breeches, sandals and knee-length robes of rich brocade. On their shoulders they wore wide, jewel-encrusted torcs, revealing their ranks and affiliations. Their long silver hair was dressed in elaborate styles, held in place with jewelled pins. The men’s chests were bare, displaying old duelling scars. The woman...

Was Imoshen.

He’d had no idea she ranked so high amongst her people.

As the warrior escort took up position, Sorne saw them look to the banner’s trophy braids and their mouths grow tight with anger. The two males remained one step behind Imoshen, who came to a stop when there was still a body length between her and the king.

‘A woman?’ one of the barons muttered. ‘Their causare is a woman? I thought it was an elected position, not inherited.’

‘One of the males will be the causare,’ Charald said softly over his shoulder. ‘They’ve put a beautiful woman out front to distract us.’

Zabier said nothing. Sorne glanced to the back of his head. If Zabier knew as much as he claimed, he’d know the T’En women’s gifts were more powerful than the men’s.

‘I am Causare T’Imoshen, of the T’Enatuath,’ she introduced herself, speaking Chalcedonian with a slight accent.

‘High King Charald, conqueror of the five kingdoms of the Secluded Sea, ruler of Chalcedonia,’ Zabier introduced the king.

Charald rested his hand on his sword hilt and waited, drawing out the T’En’s discomfort. Whoever spoke first revealed weakness.

Imoshen took a step forward. ‘King–’

‘That’s near enough.’ Zabier held up his hand before she could come close enough to touch the king.

‘King Charald,’ Imoshen began again, ‘your ancestor signed an agreement, giving our people this island. Why have you broken the accord?’

‘The accord is nothing but scribbles on parchment.’

Both the males behind her stiffened, and Sorne guessed their gifts would be rising. He was glad he was too far away to sense their power; he did not want his gift addiction to surface again. While Oskane’s scourgings had given him the strength to fight it, repeated exposure to power had made his hair go white by the time he was twenty-five, and the craving for power had slipped under his guard. The pain of the empyrean wound had completed his downfall. He was as addicted as any devotee, just not to one specific T’En. As long as he avoided their power, he could keep the craving under control.

‘Do you want to renegotiate the accord?’ Imoshen asked, as if Charald was a reasonable person. Didn’t she remember Sorne’s insight into the king?

‘What I want is a Chalcedonia free of Wyrds. I want all your kind to pack what you can carry and leave this city, leave this kingdom.’

Behind her, the two males went utterly still, and exchanged quick looks. The warrior escort looked stunned. Only Imoshen was not surprised.

‘This is our home,’ she said. ‘We have enough food for years and plenty of fresh water. We can shut the gates and go about our lives, while you sit out here in the winter snows, and the dust and flies, while your men die of the flux and their fields lie fallow, while their women sleep alone and their children forget them–’

One of the barons cursed, but Charald laughed.

‘Shut the gate. See if I care. While you sit on your arses behind your walls, my barons will be riding for your estates. They’ll pull down the gates, march in, put everyone to the sword and burn their bodies.’

‘Barbarian,’ the taller of the two males gasped.

‘There’s no negotiating with him,’ the other agreed. They both spoke T’En, unaware that Sorne understood.

King Charald glanced over his shoulder to the barons as if to say,
See, one of them is the true causare
.

‘We have wealth,’ Imoshen said. ‘We can pay a tithe to the crown for the use of this island.’

‘Pay him?’ the tall one muttered in T’En, clearly not impressed. ‘Why should we pay for what we already own?’

Hadn’t anyone ever told him you only own what you can stop others from taking? Charald had proven that repeatedly.

‘Why should I accept scraps when I can have it all?’ As Charald addressed the tall male behind Imoshen, she tilted her head to study the king and his barons. Sorne felt the brush of her gift on his senses, subtle and alluring. Female gift power rolled over him, over all the barons. Several of the men fidgeted, responding to the sensation. But none objected, and Sorne suspected they were too focused on the interplay between their king and the T’En male to notice it.

‘We broke through once. We can do it again,’ Charald said. He gestured to the big T’En man. ‘Next time, speak for yourself, causare. Next time, come prepared to surrender.’

‘We have not used our gifts on True-men,’ the smaller, sharp-eyed man said in Chalcedonian. ‘Do you really want to push us? You can’t resist our gifts.’

Charald gave a bark of laughter. ‘Your gifts? I piss on your gifts. You know why?’ He beckoned Sorne to step forward. ‘Because I have this priest, returned from the dead not two days ago.’ And he thrust Sorne’s hood back to reveal his face with the missing eye.

All of the Wyrds gasped.

‘Warrior’s-voice,’ the sharp-eyed male muttered in Chalcedonian.

‘I see you’ve heard of my half-blood,’ Charald gloated. ‘Have you heard what he can do? He’s the one who discovered how to contact the gods. The Warrior has been blessing him with visions since he was seventeen. Through this half-blood the Warrior guided me, as I conquered the kingdoms of the Secluded Sea. He guided me here tonight.’

As Charald paused for effect, Zabier glanced to Sorne and the king. He looked as if he wanted to protest, but managed to hold his tongue.

Sorne also wanted to protest, but couldn’t. If he was to be any use as Imoshen’s spy, he had to let the T’En believe the worst of him. He had promised to let her know if Charald was going to attack. Now, after Charald’s boasts, she would assume he’d lied to her.

Sorne did not try to catch her eye, not with Zabier watching him.

‘Can you guess how he gets these visions?’ Charald was enjoying himself. Sorne knew what was coming and he could not stop it. ‘He sacrifices his own kind. Just two days ago, he sent a silverhead into the Warrior god’s arms and was rewarded with a vision.’

The T’En stared at him in horror. All Sorne could do was look, stone-faced, straight ahead.

Without a word, Imoshen turned on her heel and walked away. The two men followed her, then the warriors, and lastly the servants with the lanterns.

Charald laughed, calling after them, ‘That’s right, go home and load your wagons, sew your jewels into the hems of your winter coats. Prepare for exile, Wyrds. You have until dusk tomorrow to agree to my terms, then I send my barons to raze your estates!’

As the causeway gate closed, the king rubbed his hands together and turned to his barons. ‘That’s put the wind up them. It’ll go back and forth for a bit, but they’ll be opening the gates and bending over before midwinter.’

He strode down the causeway, with the barons falling into step around him. ‘Time to celebrate. Break open the wine.’

Sorne held back while the True-men jostled for position next to the king.

‘You...’ Zabier was beside him; fury twisted his features. ‘You get all the glory. I’m the one who came up with how to avoid the Wyrds’ gifts. I’m the one who made the half-blood sacrifices. All you ever sacrificed was gift-infused relics. You sicken me!’

Somehow, Sorne managed to restrain himself and leave.

‘Yes, walk off. It’s all you ever do. You left me to protect Ma and Valendia from King Matxin. You left again when Ma was dying. She called for you, right at the end, but you weren’t there!’

Sorne ground his teeth. Back then, he’d been a fool, chasing glory and the respect of True-men. All it had gotten him was the empyrean wound and betrayal. It had taken him years to find out who he really was. Now he would not fail Valendia, and he would not fail his people.

A
S SOON AS
they stepped through the causeway gate, Imoshen felt her legs go weak. Had Sorne betrayed them? She found it hard to believe, but if he hadn’t, he was playing a deep and dangerous game.

The sisterhood leaders drew her to one side, but she was still aware of Hueryx and Paragian being swamped by brotherhood leaders demanding answers.

‘King Charald is a barbarian,’ Paragian said. ‘He has a pet half-blood who sacrifices T’En to True-man gods!’

‘Sacrifices T’En?’ Egrayne repeated horrified. She looked to Imoshen for confirmation.

‘...the king boasts he’s come back from the dead.’ Hueryx said, to his fellows. ‘That he sacrificed one of us just two days ago.’

This incensed the men. Between their rising gifts and their furious exclamations, it was hard to think. This was what she’d feared; what would get them all killed.

Imoshen pushed through the sisters to climb a mounting block below a street lamp. She beckoned Arodyti. ‘Give me your long-knife.’

The sisterhood’s hand-of-force obliged. Imoshen struck the metal post. The high, clear note cut through the brotherhoods’ deep voices and they all turned to her. ‘The king is using the Warrior’s-voice and talk of sacrifices to unnerve us.’

‘Did your gift tell you this?’ All-father Kyredeon demanded.

‘I read a great deal of anger in the Mieren, cloaking their fear. In King Charald I read triumph and determination.’

‘Yes, but what does the king want?’ All-father Egrutz asked.

She read the brotherhood leaders. With their gifts on edge they were angry, eager for violence and ready to shout her down. They would take the hard facts better from one of their own, which was why she’d asked Hueryx and Paragian to go with her. ‘What did King Charald want, All-father Hueryx?’

‘He didn’t want to negotiate, that was clear. He means to drive us out of the city, and out of Chalcedonia.’

‘We can hold the city. We can double the guard on the wall!’ a hand-of-force insisted and others agreed

Imoshen caught Paragian’s eye. ‘What will King Charald do if we hold out against his army?’

‘He threatened to send his barons to break down our estate walls, kill every last T’En and Malaunje, and burn the buildings.’

Everyone protested.

‘Hueryx,’ Imoshen raised her voice. ‘Does Charald strike you as the sort of man who would make good on his threat?’

The wiry all-father sent her a look that said he knew what she was doing, but answered anyway. ‘The Mieren king will not hesitate.’

‘And can our estates stand against the barons and their men?’ Imoshen asked Paragian.

‘They all have defences, but none could stand for long, not without hope of help coming.’

‘We are dealing with a king who has conquered all the mainland kingdoms of the Secluded Sea,’ Imoshen said. ‘He has resources beyond anything we have–’

‘What?’ Saskeyne bristled. She read him. He’d come to the leadership of his brotherhood young and hadn’t been seasoned by disappointment. ‘Are you suggesting we walk out of here tonight? Because I’m not doing that. This is our home.’

Others agreed with him. A sea of angry faces shifted under the lamplight.

‘You’re the great raedan,’ Kyredeon sneered. ‘We were told you could read King Charald and find a way to negotiate with him.’

‘I read him. He wants to be rid of us, and he believes we have our backs to the wall.’ She looked around at the angry men, and the worried women. ‘Are you willing to sacrifice everyone on the outlying estates, then sit here until we run out of food in two or three years’ time?’

They muttered.

She waved an arm in the direction of the camped army. ‘Charald can bring food in. He can rotate his army. The drought won’t last. He can send his men home to harvest their crops and plant new crops, while we sit here and eat our stores. And when we’ve done that, we will be back where we are right now.’ She waited a moment to let them take this in. ‘Do you want to sacrifice everyone on our estates, to gain nothing?’

‘We can assassinate him,’ Saskeyne said. ‘I could send one or two warriors to kill Charald and–’

‘And then what? I read his war barons. They are greedy and ambitious. They’ll fight over Charald’s crown. One of them will win and then he’ll reward his supporters by promising them the riches of the Celestial City, and we’ll be back where we started. The Mieren will not negotiate.’

‘But they fear our gifts,’ All-father Dretsun said.

Imoshen sought Hueryx’s eyes. ‘What did Charald say about our gifts?’

‘He said he pissed on our powers.’

This was greeted with stunned silence.

‘Didn’t you notice how his men were dressed?’ Imoshen asked. ‘When they attacked, much of their skin was covered. Somehow they’ve learned we need touch to use our gifts, that our powers have limitations. There are thousands of them and too few of us. Meanwhile, our people on the estates are vulnerable.’

‘This lake stretches back towards the mountains, with many secluded inlets. King Charald can’t patrol it all.’ It was Saskeyne again. ‘We can send out small groups of warriors. They can make their way through the countryside. They can warn the estates.’

‘Warn them to do what?’

‘Defend their walls.’

‘Until all the warriors are dead, the walls fall and the defenceless are slaughtered?’ Imoshen asked. ‘Or are you suggesting these warriors can travel through hostile countryside escorting old folk, children and babies back here? When the Mieren track them down and surround them, no one will come to their aid. They will all die to the last child.’

Silence stretched.

‘What do you suggest we do, Imoshen?’ Egrayne asked.

It was the question she had been waiting for. ‘We buy time by saying we’ll accept exile.’ There were protests at this, but she raised her voice and forged on. ‘It’ll save our estates, while we come up with a plan.’