North Star Guide Me Home (27 page)

Mira stirred at his side. ‘Here,’ she said, leaning towards him and depositing Cade into his arms.

She moved too quickly for Isidro to protest, or to do anything but take the weight of the little lad. He stiffened and felt his power flare, sending questing tendrils climbing along his spine.

The little face that looked up at him was very calm. Perfectly round little cheeks, lightly touched with red, and a downy thatch of fair hair on his head. The lad looked like Cam — it was there in his brow and nose and the shape of his chin.

Mira leant close. ‘You see, little one,’ she said. ‘This is your other father. I’ve told you about him.’

Isidro’s face found himself remembering those days in Demon’s Spire, when everything seemed so hopeless. ‘You saved my life, little one,’ Isidro said in a murmur. ‘It’s good to meet you, at last.’

The baby squirmed in his arms, waving chubby fists. Isidro tried to shift his grip — he hadn’t held a babe since his arm had been broken, and it still made him uneasy to have his one good arm pinned down. Without thinking about it, he brought the false arm up to help bear the weight when Cade suddenly stiffened in his arms, and arched his back with a squalling wail.

The realisation of what he’d done struck Isidro cold. The thumb-lever on the false hand, that jutting prong of iron — in bringing the false hand up he’d jabbed it into the baby’s back. ‘Fires Below, Mira, I’m sorry.’ He tried to pass the boy back, but between his clumsy left hand and the boy squirming and screeching in protest, he made a poor job of it until she took the babe from him and pressed him to her shoulder, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were wide. ‘What …?’

He felt his face turn red as he held up the false hand. ‘I … I’ve only had it for a day or so. I’m not used to it yet.’

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the iron prong, but they softened again when she turned back to his face. ‘It’s alright, Issey, it was an accident.’ She had to raise her voice to be heard over the child’s wails. ‘He’ll be fine once he calms down.’

His power was stirring, prickling within him. A blossom of heat had woken in his own back, and his power was sending questing tendrils down his arm, reaching for his hand.
All I’m good for,
Isidro said to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, and saw flame in the darkness.

He stood, rolling to his feet. ‘I have to go. I’m sorry, Mira.’

He clenched his fist as he strode out of the tent, utterly furious with himself, while at the same time his gut felt tied up in knots. As he stalked through the doors, he almost ran into Sierra, heading in from outside. She halted on the frosty grass as swiftly as he did before they could touch. ‘What happened?’

‘The boy,’ he said. ‘Is he alright?’

She nodded. ‘Just a bruise, but I can take away the sting.’

Isidro stepped aside for her. ‘Sirri …’ he said. ‘What I said last night … I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

She held his gaze for a long moment. ‘Nothing you said was untrue,’ she said, and ducked into the tent, leaving him alone on the frosty grass.

Delphine had breakfast alone that morning, just as she had dined alone the night before. She knew she would have been welcome downstairs, but the thought of listening to Madric and his officers discuss stripping the village depressed her too much.

She’d been here before, years ago. Every Akharian mage spent a portion of each year in the service of the empire, and Delphine had done her duty scouting for children with the spark of talent. She’d spent a day in this village and taken a meal in this very house. She barely remembered the hosts, vaguely recalling an hour of stilted conversation about nothing in particular, while she’d thought about the children she’d selected that morning. They always wept when they were chosen, even the slaves. There was always fear in giving up the familiar and setting out into the unknown.

Madric had commandeered the largest house in the village, and Delphine had been assigned a grand chamber for her bedroom. She found herself in a feather bed with a carved frame, in a chamber painted with delicate frescoes of pastoral scenes. And in the middle of it, her northern-style kitbag and her soft, shapeless boots, the only ones that would fit over her swollen feet, were dumped untidily on the polished parquet floor. Delphine looked everything over with a scowl as she picked at her breakfast of baked eggs and toasted bread.

Rooms like this would likely be her last view of her homeland. The thought made her purse her lips in a sour twist. She missed her old home, her little cottage in the Collegium’s residential quarter, the one she’d moved into after her divorce.

It was nothing grand, just two rooms and a little courtyard shaded with grapevines, where she’d grown flowers and potted herbs. But it had been
hers,
with her books on the shelves, her blankets and cushions on the couches and the bed, her motley collection of pots and crockery over the charcoal stove. She’d packed everything carefully away before leaving on the expedition, imagining the tales she’d have to tell on her return. And later, when she’d fallen for the slave who’d come to her a desperate and broken man, she’d dreamed of taking him there, of waking up beside him each morning, of showing him the city, the high lookouts over the harbour and the shining sea …

Sometimes,
Delphine said to herself,
I think I must be the biggest fool alive.

She’d never see it again, her little cottage, her precious things. The rest of her life would be spent in exile in a land of snow and cold, forever a foreigner, thinking of what she’d left behind.

Still, there would be compensations, she thought, running her hand over her belly. Back before she’d realised her homeland was lost to her, she’d dreamed of having a family. Soon enough, she might get her wish … if the babe lived, if it didn’t kill her in the process of being born.

Nikala came to see her after breakfast, and Delphine lay down on the bed as the woman ran warm hands over the mound of her belly. ‘The little one is sitting well, madame, with head down, but it still rides very high. No dropping yet.’

‘Right,’ Delphine said with a sigh.

‘Are you still having false pains?’

‘Yes, all the cursed time. I had three over breakfast. But still no sign of the real thing?’

‘No, madame. I think you may have —’

‘Some weeks yet,’ Delphine finished for her. ‘Yes, I know. I’ve been told often enough.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I’m just so tired of this.’

‘The last month is the most difficult. Perhaps you should get some more rest?’

Delphine scowled up at the frescoed ceiling. She’d taken a nap the previous afternoon, and had slept deeply all night, even after the news from Cam. ‘I simply can’t sleep anymore. I think I’d like to go for a walk. Perhaps some exercise will move things along.’

Nikala studied her for a moment with her head tipped to one side, and then gave a single, sharp nod. ‘Perhaps it will. If you wish, I will accompany you — then, if you grow too weary, I can run back and summon a carriage. Does this seem agreeable, madame?’

Delphine heaved herself up. ‘Yes. In fact, that sounds perfect.’

They set out with a pair of guards. Madric had wanted to send more, but Delphine flatly refused. She didn’t want a score of men trailing along behind her as she puffed and waddled. Cam’s forces controlled the countryside and the town was full of their people, engaged in something like a celebration since news of Lady Mira’s and Cam’s son had spread.

It wasn’t long before Delphine began to wonder at the wisdom of her plan; almost at once her back and hips started up a fierce ache. She thought about turning back, but gritted her teeth and marched on. What was the alternative? Go back to the house and sit around with her aching bones? At least this way she had something different to look at. Besides, she was far from the only woman to have borne a baby on the long road eastwards, and the others hadn’t had the luxury of a feather bed and a halt to the march in their final days. By the Good Goddess, some had given birth on lurching wagons and were back walking the next day.

Nikala was pleasant company, in any case. Delphine had asked her about her past, but the woman was politely reticent, and Delphine belatedly remembered that slaves preferred not to speak of their old lives. Back when she was Isidro’s mistress, he’d hedged around his past the same way — at the time she’d thought it a sign he was coming to terms with his fate. Sometimes, she truly hated the person she’d been back then.
You did the best you could at the time,
she told herself.
When you learnt better, you did better.

In the moments when she could forget the spreading pain in her back, she noticed it was a pleasant morning, with the sky clear and only a light breeze. It set her thinking about what she’d face when they did return to Ricalan.
The little one will be better off, despite the cold and snow,
Delphine told herself.
There’ll be family around, more than I ever had, and he or she’ll grow up with rank and position, not the bastard child of a disgraced female mage.
Still, as she thought back to the darkness and the chill of the deep northern winter, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. What was she doing, bringing a helpless babe to such a harsh and unforgiving place?

‘Nikala, tell me,’ Delphine said. ‘How do you feel about going to the north? Are you worried about living in the cold and the snow?’

For a second Nikala looked utterly blank. But then she shook herself, and caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Oh, I confess I do, madame. I hear the northerners talk of it, and when I think of half a year of winter and snow as deep as houses, I wonder that anyone could live there. But I suppose it’s better to live free in the cold than comfortable in chains.’

‘It’s truly not so bad,’ Delphine said. ‘The land may be cold, but the people are warm … well, when they’re not afraid for their lives, or just terrified because they’ve never met a mage before.’

‘Well, madame, I expect that will change once the Stormblade returns,’ Nikala said. ‘There’s not one soul in this army who doesn’t know that it’s her power keeping our old masters off our backs.’

‘Hmm,’ Delphine said. ‘Indeed.’ But she found herself thinking of the terrified folk kneeling in ranks after the village raids. Cam’s army of freed slaves had accepted mages, but what of the rest? There were plenty of northerners who’d never seen mage-craft used in their defence, who’d see no difference between the new mages and Kell. There’d be more than one battle awaiting Cam when they returned, she realised, and not the sort that could be fought with spears and shields.

A sharp, stabbing pain in her back made Delphine stop with a hiss through clenched teeth. Nikala turned back to her with one eyebrow raised. ‘Madame?’

‘Just a cramp,’ Delphine said, pressing her fist into the knotted muscle.

‘We can turn back if you wish. Though if we go on a little further I have heard that, on a clear day like this, you can see the town where the negotiations are to be held. But perhaps that is too far.’

‘No,’ Delphine said through gritted teeth, ‘not yet. I can keep going. I wonder if they’ve reached it by now? Let’s see what we can see.’

They’d come to the poor quarter of the town, on the far side of the village from the grand house on the hill. The cobbles were broken and loose, the thatch on the houses sagging and ancient.

The pain in her back was growing worse, and soon it was every bit as bad as it had been in the bouncing wagon. Delphine found herself stopping regularly to rest and catch her breath, until it felt like she was managing only a dozen paces between each fresh wave. ‘Nikala, stop,’ she said at last, gasping for breath. ‘I need to rest. I want to sit down.’

Even in the poor quarter, each cottage had its own garden, walled in by hedges or hurdles. They’d stopped beside one where the patchy hedge had been filled in with brush, with a rough gate in the wall nearby. Nikala went to peer inside, and returned with a smile. ‘Ah. Come in here, madame.’

Beyond was a garden neatly laid out with beds marked with chunks of broken stone. Climbing roses, planted in the warm spot beside the door, were now bare but for their thorns.

Nikala ushered her to a rough bench beside the bare vines, while the two guards shuffled in behind them. ‘Here, madame, sit.’

‘I —’ Delphine couldn’t complete the sentence, for a belt of flesh around her belly tightened with such sudden ferocity that it stole her breath and sent her doubling over.

Nikala perched beside her and rubbed her lower back with a firm and steady hand. ‘Oh, madame, I fear I’ve led you poorly. We should have turned back some time ago.’

It was a long moment before she could talk again. ‘What do you mean?’ Delphine gasped, breath still short in her throat. ‘What are you talking …
oh
, is this it? Is the baby coming?’

‘I believe it may be. I should not have let you walk this far. Please forgive me, madame!’ Nikala took hold of her forearm, her head bowed and her voice and hands both trembling badly.

Right at that moment, Delphine was thinking that a midwife should have recognised the signs of labour, surely? But then, with Nikala’s head bowed over her hands, she caught sight of the whip scars on her back, peeking above the ragged collar of her coat. As a slave, she’d have been flogged for this mistake. ‘Oh, here … Nikala, I’m not angry, honestly. In truth, I’m glad it’s finally happening. But you’re quite right, we have to get back. Just give me a few minutes to rest. I wonder if Cam and the others —’

Another contraction came, clenching like an iron band around her belly and crushing the words in her throat.

Nikala straightened, blotting her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Madame, you are too kind … but you cannot walk so far. Send one of the guards to fetch a carriage.’

Delphine nodded. Yes, that was the most sensible option. As the contraction passed, she lifted her head to call the men over.

Makaio rode with them as they headed for the meeting point, and since Isidro had paid their new ally scarce attention the night before he stayed close to take a measure of the foreign prince.

‘Are you sure they’ll answer the summons?’ Mira asked him. ‘From what I know of the Akharians they’re likely to delay a week to spite us.’

‘Normally they would, my dear lady, but I mentioned that Sierra Stormblade was riding with us, and that if they were not where we expected, she was inclined to ride south in search of them.’ Makaio turned to Cam, and nodded to Sierra as well. ‘A small liberty, your grace. I hope you don’t object.’

‘Not at all, if it means we can get this over with quickly. Let’s keep them on the back foot.’

‘Excellent. Your grace, if you’d indulge me, I would like to speak more of our proposed alliance. In the missive I discussed the issue of trade, but there is another matter that concerns me — mage-craft. Ricalan was once known for having a rich and knowledgeable school of mage-craft, thought to be lost long ago. Recently, I have learnt the Akharians have discovered troves of relics and texts left behind by the long-dead mages. Lady Mira assures me that your people can rebuild their lost knowledge from what is left. Is this correct?’

‘As far as I know,’ Cam said. ‘The old mages preserved a great deal, but until we can see what the Akharians have done —’

‘I’m sure I don’t need to point out that the Akharians will have removed all they can to Akhara and are already teasing out their secrets. Tomoa has always worked hard to keep our mages on an equal footing, but I fear they will learn a great deal from this stolen knowledge.

‘What I propose, your grace, is to pool our wisdom. My uncle is willing to provide Ricalan with teachers and resources, and in return we wish to share in the wealth of knowledge your people have so recently uncovered. Otherwise, united or divided, we will have little hope of standing against them.’

Cam kept a neutral, pleasant smile on his face. ‘That seems a fair trade. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’

Isidro felt Sierra reach for his mind and glanced across at her.
Isidro,
she said.
Can I ask you something?

There was an odd formality to her manner, but he supposed he deserved it.
Go ahead.

Did Cam really just agree to share everything we have with these people?

Mira trusts him,
Isidro said,
and he’s given us no reason not to. In any case, what good would come of refusing him
now
, when we need his help to negotiate with the Akharians?

Hmm,
she said,
I suppose so. And if we do make it back home, it wouldn’t be hard for them to send spies to steal what they want anyway.

Exactly. This way we get something of value in return. Mages to train our folk will be worth their weight in gold. But I’ll wager that’s not all he’s after.
He turned back again to the prince’s straight back and close-cropped hair.

‘You realise, Makaio, that this will be a very slow return for your king’s investment,’ Mira said. ‘The caches are far inland, in lands that were utterly ravaged by the war. It’ll take time to reclaim them, and until then there’s no way of knowing what treasures are left.’