Sanctuary (26 page)

‘A virgin? Amongst the Wyrds?’

Jaraile marvelled. Several nights ago, she’d claimed she’d heard a woman weeping. Now they’d embroidered the story further. Her father had once told her that fighting men were simple, superstitious creatures. This was not surprising when an arrow could pass over one man and kill the man behind him. It was no wonder they clung to their talismans and lucky rituals.

‘There had to be virgins amongst the silverheads,’ the lucky one said. ‘The sisterhood leaders kept the young ones locked up, separate from the brotherhoods.’

‘Yeah? Just think of all those women, locked up together. What did they get up to?’

‘I tell you, her shade’s going to haunt this palace until she finds the man who killed her. Then she’s going to drag him into death’s realm with her.’

‘And if she can’t find him?’

Footsteps echoed up the long passage. One of the men swore. The other one laughed softly. ‘It’s just the kitchen lad with the queen’s evening meal.’

Jaraile sprang to her feet and put the next stage of her plan into action. She hid in a corner of the bedchamber. Heart racing, she unravelled her hair and ran her hands through it. Then she deliberately raked her cheeks with her nails, so that she appeared crazed and terrified. The pain made her eyes fill with tears. Sinking to crouch in a corner, she covered her head with her arms.

As the door to the reception chamber opened, she discovered she was shaking with excitement. Hopefully, they’d take it for fear.

‘Queen Jaraile? Your dinner’s here,’ the lucky guard called.

She heard his footsteps as he came to the open door.

‘Queen Jaraile?’

She lifted her head.

He gasped and behind him the unlucky guard swore.

‘Is she gone?’ Jaraile whispered.

They assured her there was no one else there, as they came over and helped her to her feet.

‘The weeping woman was here again, I tell you. Why won’t you believe me?’ Jaraile drew them to the doorway, peered into the reception room and pointed to the balcony doors, which were hidden behind drapes. ‘She was out there, on the balcony. Trying to get in.’

The lad ran over to them, clearly terrified.

The two guards exchanged looks.

Jaraile shuddered. ‘I’m not coming out until I know she’s gone.’

The guards looked grim as they edged towards the balcony doors. Jaraile clung to them and the lad clung to her. She laughed inside, exulting in her power over them.

The the unlucky one drew his sword.

‘What good’s a sword against a spirit?’

The unlucky guard gestured to the drapes. ‘Open them.’

His companion dragged the curtains back.

‘There’s no one there.’ The unlucky guard sounded relieved.

‘Take the lamp out there,’ Jaraile urged. ‘I have to be sure.’

As soon as they took the lamp and stepped through the doors it was clear the balcony was empty, but they went up and down its length to be sure.

‘There now, you’re safe,’ the lucky guard told Jaraile, while his companion closed the doors and pulled the drapes.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’ll be just outside, won’t you?’

‘Just outside.’

‘Good. Her shade won’t hurt me, will it? After all, I’m just a woman. I’ve never raised a weapon against her kind.’

The unlucky guard swallowed audibly.

Satisfied she had them sufficiently unnerved, Jaraile let them leave the chamber. Tomorrow morning, she would send for Captain Pataxo, weep on his shoulder and insist she could not stay another night in the sisterhood palace. By then, news of what had happened would be right through his company. If she was lucky, they’d move down to the brotherhood palace near the wall and she’d be one step closer to escaping.

G
RAELEN HAD THOUGHT
he would never see the Celestial City again, but there it stood, a pale shape on the dark water. Last night, the white stone of city had glowed in the moons’ light, reflecting in the lake, and his heart had ached to think of his home in the hands of the barbarian Mieren.

But he could not afford the luxury of emotion. Instead, he retreated to the cold distant place inside himself, where he had lived for so long before he found Valendia. Everything he did, he did for her.

He’d been on edge since they left the fleet. It made his gift hard to control. The journey had given Graelen a chance to observe the men under his command. Sorne had seemed reserved and preoccupied, while Tobazim was contained and wary, as well he should be.

As for the causare’s choice-son, Iraayel was nothing like he had been at the same age. Before Graelen joined the brotherhood, he’d been full of hubris and eager to prove himself. Iraayel had already killed in defence of the sisterhood, and it showed in his eyes. The lad was no innocent, yet Graelen refused to kill Iraayel just so Kyredeon could strike a blow against the causare. So maybe there was still a shred of the decent man Valendia loved.

That left the three initiates, hand-picked by Oriemn. These three laughed too easily, agreed too readily and were so eager to win stature they would obey him if he told them to leave the others to die.

Graelen despised them.

There had been another cloaked figure on the boat back in Shifting-sands Bay, but he’d disappeared the first night, so Graelen assumed he had been on a private mission for Kyredeon.

In the past, Graelen had always worked alone, or with Paryx. Now he led these men to save King Charald’s queen, something he had never imagined himself doing in his wildest dreams.

‘The cloud cover is patchy,’ Sorne whispered. ‘But I can’t delay, waiting for a better night.’

‘We go in tonight,’ Graelen confirmed.

‘When Eskarnor marched for Port Mirror-on-Sea, he left a company of men to hold the city and protect the queen,’ Sorne said. ‘They’ve closed the gates and manned the wall-walks.’

‘We’ll need a diversion while we climb the walls,’ Graelen said.

‘We don’t need to go over the walls,’ Tobazim said. ‘I can get us in through the ruined palace boat-house.’

‘Good,’ Sorne said. ‘I know where we can steal a boat.’

Graelen smiled grimly. Either of them could have led this mission, but he was in charge. They weren’t far from the lakeside town. ‘We’ll set fire to the tavern stable. The stable lads will rush to save the horses, and the commotion and the flames will distract the guards on the city wall-walk. Fires are common enough – it shouldn’t make them suspicious – but someone will need to stay behind to set the fire.’

Graelen left one of the initiates to guard the horses. The other two, he sent to set the fire. He would not go into danger with men he did not trust. Tobazim wouldn’t stab him in the back. He’d kill him in a fair fight.

Graelen signalled Sorne. ‘Lead us to the boat.’

The besieging army had cut down trees, torn up bushes and scavenged every scrap of firewood on the slope down to the lake.

Sorne led them, picking his way along the shore, until he came to a small Mieren house. No light gleamed through the cracks in the shutters.

‘Here it is,’ Sorne said.

Graelen could make out the dark shape of a boat amidst the reeds.

They climbed in and waited in silence until they heard the shouts of ‘fire.’

Then Graelen took the oars, careful to cut the water with the minimum of noise. They were in luck: the cloud cover held, and the commotion of the tavern fire at the end of the causeway distracted the city’s defenders.

T
OBAZIM REMEMBERED THIS
section of wall. He’d spent many a night on the wall-walk, watching the Mieren army on the lake’s shore.

It was so dark that even when he gift-enhanced his night vision, Tobazim could only just make out the arch of the ruined palace’s boat-house gate.

He nudged Graelen’s foot, and the big adept shipped the oars. The boat glided in until it came to rest against the wall. Tobazim’s gift surged, gauging the weights and stresses of the defensive wall, gauging the stresses and alliances of those in the boat with him. They were all focused on the task at hand, but their motivations were so different they were like threads threatening to unravel.

Sorne was focused on saving Queen Jaraile and saving the kingdom for Prince Cedon. Tobazim didn’t entirely understand why the queen and prince had Sorne’s loyalty, but he respected loyalty.

Iraayel was keen to prove himself worthy of a place in the brotherhood.

And Graelen was utterly determined.

Tobazim suspected Kyredeon held Valendia’s life as surety of Graelen’s cooperation. Somehow, he needed to convince Graelen to change sides and support him and Ardonyx. But Graelen would only do this if he was certain they could defeat Kyredeon.

And even Tobazim was not sure of this.

Coming to his knees, Tobazim felt along the wall until he came to the gate, then gingerly climbed onto the narrow stone ledge next to it.

He reached through the gate to the hinges and worked the pins loose. Once both pins were removed, the gate hung from the catch and lock on the other side. He wriggled through, stepped inside and opened the gate.

They guided the boat into the boat-house.

Tobazim led them out through the ruined palace to the street.

Here, Graelen took the lead and Tobazim was happy to let him. He preferred not to have the adept at his back.

No lights gleamed in the brotherhood palaces. It felt strange. This had been his home, yet if they were spotted they’d be killed.

When they left the brotherhood quarter, they were not far from the causeway gate. Tobazim could see a dozen men in the gate-house, drinking and dicing by the light of a lamp.

The gate guards were engrossed in their game and the wall-walk guards would be watching the fire across the shore. Even so, Graelen kept to the shadows as they made their way up the causeway road.

They were about level with the dome of empowerment when Iraayel signalled for him to stop. He pointed to the tallest sisterhood palace, to a light moving on a verandah. As far as they could see, the rest of the palace was in darkness.

‘That’s our palace and that’s the initiates’ verandah. That’ll be where they’re keeping the queen.’

Even as he spoke, the light disappeared and Graelen led them on. When they reached the sisterhood quarter, the adept stepped back. ‘Take the lead, Iraayel.’

It was an honour for a lad who was not yet seventeen. He led them through the sisterhood quarter to what had been the causare’s palace, and around the side into a courtyard. In the distance they heard faint music.

‘Sounds like the men-at-arms have made their home in the Malaunje chambers near the kitchen,’ Iraayel whispered, then went across the courtyard and into the palace.

He led them down several corridors, before coming to a halt. At the far end of a hall, they could hear voices and music. The smell of onions and bacon lingered on the air.

They retreated to the nearest empty chamber.

‘The bulk of the men-at-arms are a long way from where they’re keeping the queen,’ Sorne said. ‘There’ll be guards on her door, but –’

‘They’ll be able to signal the others,’ Iraayel said. ‘Each chamber has a bell-pull, which connects to the Malaunje servants’ wing. All they have to do is ring that bell and we’ll never get the queen out of the palace, let alone the city.’

‘Then we’ll have to surprise them,’ Graelen said and signalled Iraayel. ‘Take us to the queen.’

The sisterhood palace was a rabbit warren of wings, courtyards, stairs and balconies, but the lad had grown up here, and he found his way without difficulty.

At last they came to a point where several passages met. Iraayel gestured down one of them.

First Graelen, then each of them peered down the long corridor. At the far end, a lamp glowed and two men sat playing dice. It was impossible to approach without being seen.

They went a little way down the corridor.

‘Is there no other way into the initiates’ wing?’ Graelen whispered.

‘I could go across the roof and drop onto the balcony,’ Iraayel said.

‘Yes, but can we get the queen out that way?’

‘We could try.’

‘I’ll go with Iraayel,’ Sorne said. ‘You two stay here.’

Tobazim watched them go, then turned to Graelen. ‘So, are you going to kill me now, or after we get the queen out of the city?’

Chapter Twenty

S
ORNE HAD NO
trouble following Iraayel out a high window onto the roof. He had no trouble crawling across the roof’s terracotta tiles, despite the steep pitch and the terrifying drop. It wasn’t until he realised that the roof projected well beyond the balcony and Iraayel meant to hang off the guttering, five floors above the courtyard, then swing his legs, let go and trust to luck to land on the balcony below that he baulked.

It was a long time since Sorne had swung from the branches of the maple tree back at the retreat, and the drop had not been a tenth as high.

‘Wait. You might not swing wide enough to carry you onto the balcony. Have you done this before?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘The overhang looked smaller from below.’

Sorne let his breath out slowly. They lay side by side with their heads lower than their feet. He could feel the youth’s gift like the heat of a forge on a cold day. The longer he spent in the company of adult T’En men, the more their gifts called to him, wearing down his self-control.

‘I can do it,’ Iraayel insisted. ‘I know I can.’

‘You might be able to, and there’s a chance I might. But we’ll never get Jaraile out this way. Even if she has a head for heights, she’s small for a Mieren woman.’

Iraayel considered this. ‘She can call the guards into the chamber and I can take them out.’

Sorne nodded as the lad began to lower himelf.

Iraayel swung his legs once, twice... on the third swing, he let go and dropped to the balcony.

Sorne breathed a sigh of relief.

J
ARAILE HEARD A
soft
thump
. She pushed her plate away and wondered if the men-at-arms were playing a prank on her. It sounded like something had landed on the balcony. Nothing could have dropped down from above, the roof jutted out too far. And the courtyard was five floors below.