Sanctuary (29 page)

A
WORM OF
impatience gnawed at Tobazim. He should be back with his brotherhood. He feared what Kyredeon would do while he was away. It had been nine days, time enough for the all-father to manipulate Haromyr into doing something stupid, time enough for naive but loyal Athlyn to follow him into danger. But mostly he feared for Ardonyx. There weren’t many T’En survivors from the captain’s old brotherhood, which left him in a very vulnerable position.

Or perhaps Kyredeon thought that once Tobazim was removed, the others were harmless. At any rate, he should be back with his brotherhood, not here in Baron Nitzane’s great hall.

It was a surreal experience to find himself standing on the high dais with Kyredeon’s best assassin and the causare’s choice-son, behind the king’s disinherited half-blood son.

Queen Jaraile sat on the baron’s chair nearby. She still clutched the bunch of winter-bell flowers Iraayel had given her. Eight of the king’s guard stood behind her, along with other high-ranking Mieren, though they were a motley lot; boys and old men, mostly. One belligerent lout, who was no more than twenty, glared at Tobazim and his companions, and tried to tell Sorne how to run things.

Ikor and Aingeru had brought their men into the stronghold and were now camped in the main courtyard. Sorne had posted archers along the walls; if the men revolted, he was ready.

As barons Aingeru and Ikor approached to formally surrender and swear fealty to Prince Cedon, Sorne turned to the three T’En behind him. ‘I’m going to call on one of you soon, so play along. But first...’

Before they could ask for more information, he began proceedings.

‘Queen Jaraile has graciously granted Barons Aingeru and Ikor and their men their lives, but before we proceed, we must acknowledge the queen’s saviours. While King Charald lay ill in his bed, Baron Eskarnor, his invited guest, kidnapped the queen and locked her in the Celestial City. It is only thanks to these three T’En warriors that she is here with us today.’

Jaraile came to her feet. ‘Step forward, T’En warriors.’

So Tobazim found himself kneeling in front of the Mieren queen, who thanked them and handed them each a sprig of winter-bell flowers as a sign of her favour. The men showed their approval with a cheer, but Tobazim suspected it was directed more at the queen than at himself and his two companions.

As the T’En retreated to stand behind Sorne, both barons came forward.

Ikor and Aingeru knelt, placed their swords on the dais and said the words of surrender.

The queen accepted their surrender and came to her feet, but before they could swear fealty, Sorne spoke up.

‘I do not trust men who turn their coats so easily. I have a suggestion, my queen. Ask the T’En to discover if these barons bear treasonous thoughts towards Prince Cedon.’

Everyone turned to the three T’En warriors and Sorne came over.

‘None of us can trawl for the truth without destroying a man’s mind,’ Tobazim whispered. ‘We’d have to crush their natural defences and –’

‘They don’t know that.’

Graelen chuckled, but it was Iraayel who stepped forward.

Aingeru was closest, and the lad stood behind the baron, put his fingers on the man’s temples and called his gift. Tobazim could feel it from here. What was the lad doing? He didn’t need to actually gift-work for the ruse to succeed.

‘Say the words of fealty,’ Sorne ordered.

Aingeru placed his hands between the queen’s and said the oath, then everyone looked to Iraayel.

‘I saw a beautiful, black-haired woman with dark laughing eyes.’

‘My wife, Zaria,’ Aingeru said.

‘Was there any deceit in the baron’s heart?’ Sorne asked.

‘His words tasted of the truth,’ Iraayel said.

Tobazim glanced to Graelen. Among their kind, there were some rare T’En who had the ability to taste the truth. Could this lad be one of them, or was it just chance that he chose exactly those words?

The queen removed a sprig of winter-bell and presented it to Baron Aingeru. ‘I accept your fealty and hope that my son will grow up to call your sons his friends.’

Then she moved to stand in front of Ikor and offered her hands as Iraayel shifted to stand behind him. Tobazim could not see the baron’s face, but something about the set of his shoulders warned him. As Iraayel reached for the baron’s head, Ikor grabbed his sword and leapt to his feet, aiming the tip of the blade for Jaraile’s throat.

Sorne dived towards her.

The same instant, Iraayel caught the baron’s sword-arm and swung him around, straight into Graelen, who had covered a body length in the blink of an eye. Catching the man’s head in both hands, Graelen snapped his neck.

There was utter silence as the dead baron dropped to the floor.

Tobazim saw that Sorne had thrown himself over Jaraile, protecting her with his own body. Looking shaken, he helped her to her feet.

Graelen stepped away from the body of the dead Mieren and bowed. ‘Queen Jaraile.’

As he went to stand beside Tobazim, the hall erupted.

J
ARAILE GASPED, HEAD
ringing with the impact of the fall. The big T’En warrior had moved so fast and killed so efficiently that her heart quailed, even though he’d been protecting her.

The great hall had been absolutely silent.

Then everyone seemed to draw breath and shout at once. Baron Rantzo’s younger brother, now Baron Ramanol, was amongst the loudest. How dare a silverhead kill a True-man!

The Wyrds had rescued her from Eskarnor. They had uncovered Ikor’s treason and saved her life. But the fact remained that a silverhead had killed a True-man. Fearful, angry eyes were directed to Sorne and his honour guard.

Jaraile glanced to Sorne. He was about to speak.

Quickly, she lifted her arms, drawing all eyes to her. ‘Take this traitor’s body away and let the feasting begin!’

The servants carried out great platters of food and the men took their places on the benches. Jaraile made it to her seat at the high table before her legs gave way.

Sorne came over and leant close to whisper. ‘I’ll see to Ikor’s men. You did well, my queen.’

And he left with his three T’En warriors.

‘Just as well,’ Baron Ramanol said. Somehow he had claimed the seat beside her. ‘You can’t have that half-blood at your table, not after what happened tonight.’

‘You mean them saving my life?’ she asked sweetly and saw his eyes widen.

‘Be careful what you say in jest, my queen. There are some who might take it the wrong way and think you a Wyrd-lover.’

She wanted to pick up her knife and stab him through the hand, but she gritted her teeth, smiled and listened to the boasts of men who had yet to prove themselves on the battlefield.

S
ORNE APPROACHED THE
queen’s bedchamber early the next day. It was not long after dawn, but decisions had to be made and orders given. When he tapped on the door, a maid answered it, a forbidding expression on her face.

She shook her head. ‘The queen –’

‘Needs to see me.’ He pushed her aside and strode in.

Jaraile was kneeling over a bowl, throwing up.

‘I tried to stop him,’ the maid cried.

Sorne ignored her, knelt next to Jaraile and held her hair out of the way. After a moment she lifted her head, tears streaming down her face.

‘I should never have had the cream with the dessert last night,’ she confessed. ‘I love it, but I can’t have it when...’

‘When you’re pregnant. Kerminzto told me about the baby.’

Jaraile wiped her cheeks. ‘Why are you so good to me?’

‘My mother was fifteen when she married Charald. Fifteen when she had me, and fifteen when he had her murdered. No one stood up for her.’

‘Oh, Sorne.’

He helped her to her feet. She asked the maid to clean up and stepped behind the screen to dress.

‘I’m sending the three T’En back to Shifting-sands Bay today,’ Sorne said. ‘You can travel with them. From there you can take one of Nitzane’s ships up the coast to Port Mirror-on-Sea. It would inspire the people to have their queen returned when the port is under siege.’

Jaraile came out from behind the screen dressed in a vest, robe and borrowed breeches with the cuffs rolled up. Sorne suspected she’d raided Nitzane’s wardrobe.

‘You’re not wearing your palace clothes.’

‘That’s because I’m not going back. I’m staying with the army. This is where I’m needed. You said yourself, Port Mirror-on-Sea is safe behind its walls.’

‘As long as the defenders don’t open the gates and ride out to meet their besiegers. Jaraile, we’re going to war. You can’t ride into battle, even if you wear plate armour.’

She took his hand. ‘Sorne, I know you are King Charald’s firstborn son. You are kind and clever, and loyal. I think you would make a wonderful king.’ He stared at her, throat tight. No one had ever said this to him before.

‘But the fact remains, you are a half-blood.’ She squeezed his six-fingered hand and released it. ‘And after the way Graelen killed Baron Ikor last night –’

‘He saved your life.’

‘He killed a True-man in front of hundreds of True-men. The only reason he’s still alive is because he saved their queen’s life. Baron Ramanol made that clear.’

‘What are you saying, Jaraile?’

‘That you cannot lead the army when we attack Eskarnor. I must lead it, and you must ride behind me and tell me what to do, because I’ve no idea what I’m doing.’

He smiled. ‘Don’t sell yourself short.’

‘It’s not false modesty, Sorne. We both face limitations imposed on us by the True-men of Chalcedonia, me because I’m a woman and you because of your tainted blood. But together, we can lead this army of left-overs against Baron Eskarnor and his men. Will you do it? Will you serve a woman?’

‘You know I will.’

Jaraile smiled in relief and plucked a sprig of winter-bells from the vase. Coming back to Sorne, she tucked it in the pin that fastened his winter cloak at his shoulder. ‘Then wear this and know I have faith in you.’

‘Thank you. We must march as soon as possible. You need the barons to get their men organised.’

‘I’ll call them to the great hall. While they’re assembling, you can send the T’En back to their people.’

There was a knock at the door and the maid answered it. She came over with a message for Sorne.

He accepted it. ‘Your kinsman, Baron Kerminzto, writes that he has returned to Port Mirror-on-Sea to find the city besieged. He doesn’t have the men to attack Eskarnor, so he needs me to hurry with the men from south Chalcedonia. But there is good news. Kerminzto met up with Baron Nitzane in the north. Nitzane took the barons’ families, including Eskarnor’s wife and daughter, and sailed south with them. He reached port safely and spoke to Eskarnor from the gate tower on...’ He did the mental calculations. ‘It must have been the day we rode for Riverbend Stronghold. Nitzane told Eskarnor he’s holding the barons’ families hostage.’

Jaraile looked up at Sorne. ‘But it won’t matter to Eskarnor. He told me if Nitzane killed his wife, it would leave him free to marry me.’

Sorne didn’t tell her that Charald had said that if Eskarnor killed Queen Jaraile, the baron would be doing him a favour. ‘He also writes that Charald has signed the decree appointing you and the other guardians to rule until Prince Cedon comes of age.’

She looked relieved then frowned. ‘Eskarnor said decrees are only good if you have the power to back them up.’

Sorne passed her the letter. ‘Don’t worry. This is all exactly what I planned with Kerminzto.’

‘Where is my son, Sorne? You said you had him safe. Eskarnor may be able to sneak assassins into the port. What if he sends someone to kill Cedon?’

‘He won’t be able to find him. Only the commander of the king’s guard knows where he is. High Priest Faryx has the boy hidden in the secret apartment above his private chambers in the Father’s church.’

‘I didn’t know there was a secret apartment.’

‘Exactly. We’ll need to be on the road by tomorrow at the latest.’

When they rode out the next morning, every man, boy and horse sported a sprig of winter-bells.

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘P
UT IT HERE
.’

Imoshen had the Malaunje servants place the low table on the centre of the carpet. They’d erected a tent on the foredeck for the meeting with All-father Paragian. Tomorrow Sardeon would be seventeen and, had everything been normal, he would have been handed over to Paragian’s brotherhood.

In three days time, her choice-son, Iraayel, would be seventeen, and two days after that it would be winter’s cusp. As she’d made preparations for the meeting, more people had come in from the estates. But there was bad news with the good. This morning, she’d had word that All-father Tamaron’s party had been massacred, which meant his brotherhood survivors would have to be accepted by another all-father. If they joined one of the lesser brotherhoods, it could upset the balance of power. She hadn’t made an official announcement about Tamaron’s death, yet but she would have to soon; word was bound to get out eventually.

Reoden came up the steps. The healer’s gift was running so high that Imoshen could sense her coming across the deck.

‘He’ll be here any moment,’ Imoshen said, taking her hand and siphoning off a little of Reoden’s power. ‘Are the boys ready?’

‘Yes.’

They’d decided it would be easier on Sardeon if he didn’t know he was being inspected. So they’d told Reoden’s hand-of-force, as soon as Paragian arrived, to give the empowered lads a training session on the mid-deck. Ronnyn and Sardeon would be training with them.

Hand-of-force Kiane came running up the steps. ‘The all-father’s here. But he’s come with his devotee.’ Her tone conveyed her disapproval.

Imoshen glanced to Reoden for an explanation.

‘She’s the boy’s mother. Paragian is devoted to Sardoria.’

‘Then by all means, bring them up.’

They waited at the entrance to the tent. As soon as Imoshen saw the devotee, she knew where Sardeon got his looks.