Sanctuary (30 page)

‘All-father Paragian, Devotee Sardoria.’ Imoshen gave an obeisance of welcome. ‘I am here today to mediate. Please come in.’

As they entered the tent, Imoshen felt the force of Paragian’s gift.

Paragian took one look at the kneeling cushions and table and turned to Reoden. ‘What’s wrong with my son? You haven’t let me see him since the day your daughter was empowered. I know he was with her the day she was murdered. I know he was carried up to the sisterhood palace right afterwards. You sent me a message to say he had recovered, but...’ He gestured abruptly to Imoshen. ‘Now you bring the causare in to mediate. What’s going on?’

Reoden went very pale.

Paragian and Sardoria reached for each other. Imoshen’s gift surged as she read both of them. They expected the worst.

‘He’s alive and his wits are unharmed,’ Imoshen said quickly. The devotee swayed with relief. ‘But he was injured, the day Reoden’s daughter was murdered.’

‘Injured?’ Paragian turned to Reoden. ‘You’re the greatest healer of our time. Why –’

‘The injury was to his gift,’ the devotee guessed, her eyes going to Imoshen, who nodded.

Paragian’s shoulders sagged.

‘Sit down.’ Imoshen gestured to the cushions and began to prepare the spiced wine. This was normally a Malaunje task; both the all-father and his devotee looked surprised.

‘Reoden has done everything she possibly could for your son,’ Imoshen said as she prepared the wine. ‘I saved your son’s life, the day Reoden’s daughter died. He went onto the empyrean plane to try to escort her to death’s realm.’

‘But he had no training,’ Paragian protested.

‘His gift was beginning to manifest. The shock of seeing his choice-sister murdered triggered a surge in power. It was very brave to go after her as he did. I found him and brought him back, but since then...’ Imoshen glanced to the healer.

‘Since then, his gift has been entirely dormant,’ Reoden said, her voice low and hoarse.

The devotee leant forward. ‘But surely the gift-wright –’

‘Has worked with him,’ Reoden said. ‘Believe me, she’s done everything she can. But what’s happened to Sardeon... well, there’s nothing like it in the records.’

Paragian looked grim. ‘You’re telling me my son is crippled and will not be able to defend himself when he enters the brotherhood?’

‘He will not be able to enter the brotherhood,’ Imoshen said. ‘He may never be able to. When his gift went dormant, it somehow halted his growth. For all that he is technically seventeen, he is physically twelve years old.’

The devotee gasped.

‘There’s nothing else wrong with him,’ Imoshen assured them. ‘Come see.’

They went to the foredeck railing, where they could look down onto the mid-deck and see Ronnyn and Sardeon training with the youths.

‘He really hasn’t grown,’ Paragian whispered. ‘I know you told me, but... He’s exactly the same. How can this be?’

‘The mystery of the gifts is still being unravelled,’ Reoden said and she led him and his devotee back to the tent.

Imoshen watched as Sardeon finished his exercises. The boy turned and looked up to her, meeting her eyes. Her gift surged.

He knew. He was sharp.

Cerafeoni called the next set of moves. Sardeon’s natural elegance made every kick and strike a thing of beauty and precision. Meanwhile, Ronnyn moved with the grace of a born dancer. They were well suited. And they had become fast friends, but with every passing year the age difference would pull them further apart...

Imoshen went back to the tent, where they were sipping their spiced wine. She knelt next to Reoden.

‘...so you see,’ the healer was saying, ‘even though he is seventeen tomorrow, I cannot return him to the brotherhood. He’s welcome to stay with me for...’

‘Forever?’ Paragian sounded devastated. ‘Will he be like this forever?’

‘We don’t know,’ Reoden admitted. ‘We just don’t know.’

J
ARAILE WAS DETERMINED
not to slow down the army, so she rode without complaint all through that first long day. Sorne kept them marching from dawn until well after dark when the men ate a cold meal and slept on the ground. But he insisted on erecting a tent for her comfort.

‘Jaraile, you are their queen. Let them treat you like a queen,’ he told her.

So he set up a brazier to keep her warm and a hot meal was prepared for her and her barons. Dekornz was the youngest at fourteen; Dittor’s brother had joined the church and never expected to be leading men. Baron Ramanol was the most experienced of the lot of them, and the closest he’d come to war was keeping his brother company during the siege of the Wyrd city. Then there was Aingeru, who listened and said little. Also present were the king’s guard and Dekornz’s tutor. The only person not at the table was Sorne, and it was his opinion she most wanted to hear.

As the men talked, Jaraile gathered the barons who supported Eskarnor each had a core following of ruthless ex-mercenaries. The old Chalcedonian aristocracy despised the southern barons and feared their men. They talked of how Eskarnor’s army would be camped in the fields outside the port. Baron Ramanol did not like their chances without superior numbers. When they all retired for the night, Sorne slipped out of the private chamber at the back of the tent to join her.

‘You heard them?’ she asked. ‘They’re saying it will be pure butchery if we go up against Eskarnor’s men. They’re saying there is no way we can use the lie of the land to our advantage, because there’s hardly a hill within sight of the port.’

‘Then we will have to use guile and lead Eskarnor into making an error. In the early days of his campaign, after half his barons deserted him and he’d invaded Maygharia, I once saw Charald lure a larger army into a devious pincer manoeuvre.’

‘Show me what you mean.’

Sorne demonstrated with the remains of someone’s meal, moving the food around the plate. ‘The ground was flat and the opposing armies lined up like so, facing each other. Charald put his best men in the centre, with instructions to retreat on his signal. When they did, the opposing army gave chase, pouring into the gap created by their retreat and the two sides of Charald’s men closed around them in a pincer attack.’

‘So simple.’

‘Not easy to do. Pick the wrong moment and you’ll be routed. If the men commanding the arms of the pincer don’t close in quickly enough, your army will be divided.’

‘Still, could we do that?’

‘This battle happened before Eskarnor joined our army. But he’s cunning. He may not fall for the ruse.’

She nodded. She knew how smart the baron was.

Just then a messenger arrived, looking for Sorne.

Jaraile watched as Sorne unfolded the message and read it.

He lifted his head, his expression solemn. He turned to the messenger. ‘I’ll write a reply. Take it straight to Baron Kerminzto, and I’ll thank you not to speak a word of this on your way out.’

The man nodded.

Sorne handed Jaraile the message and sat down to write. Nitzane was injured, half his men were lost, half of her kinsman’s men were also dead and the port blockaded.

Her heart raced. She felt sick with shock and horror. ‘How could everything go so wrong?’

‘Wait.’ Sorne held up his hand as he finished writing. ‘I’ve told Kerminzto we’ll be there within a couple of days and to do nothing until we arrive.’

He sealed the message and handed it to the man who left.

‘Give me that.’ Sorne held out his hand and Jaraile passed him the original message. He burned it.

‘Now, how will we –’

‘Remember how I told you sometimes the battle is won in the minds of men before one blow falls?’

She nodded and watched the flames until the message was reduced to ash.

‘Our men don’t need to know this.’

‘What possessed Nitzane?’

‘He has always been impulsive. I was hoping Captain Ballendin would be able to advise him, but I imagine Eskarnor manipulated him. Nitzane rode out in challenge with his men. Eskarnor surrounded them, cut them off; this forced Kerminzto to attack, which allowed the remnants of Nitzane’s men to get back inside the gate with the injured baron. But Kerminzto lost of a lot of good men. How Eskarnor must be laughing.’ Sorne ground his teeth.

‘And the port’s under blockade? You said he had no ships.’

‘Eskarnor sent a company of men to steal five ships. The headlands are narrow. They’re not letting anyone in or out.’

‘Aren’t you glad now that I refused to sail back to port?’

He grinned, despite the grim news. ‘Jaraile... King Charald did not appreciate you as he should have.’

She blushed, then held his eyes. ‘Are we riding to our deaths? With the loss of Nitzane and my kinsman’s men, Eskarnor has the larger army. According to Ramanol –’

‘Who’s twenty-two and has never been to war. Numbers are not the only things that win battles. War is not like the counting of tithes.’

She liked the way Sorne talked to her, as if he expected her to understand and valued her judgement. She would never have let Eskarnor manipulate her into riding out from behind perfectly defensible walls. She wanted to grab Nitzane and shake him. Come to think of it, the baron had often made her feel that way.

Sorne poured them both a glass of wine. ‘Eskarnor has more men and they are battle-hardened, while the majority of our men are reluctant warriors. But I’ve been battling against the odds since I was seventeen, and you know what that’s like. We’ll have to be cunning. We’ll have to lure Eskarnor into making a mistake.’

Jaraile went to bed lighter of heart. Until she remembered it was only five days until winter’s cusp. What was she going to do without Sorne?

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
OBAZIM WAS SURPRISED
when the castle-keep at Shifting-sands Stronghold welcomed them back. Then he realised she wanted them to take Valendia with them when they left.

‘Not that she isn’t a sweet girl,’ the woman said, as she led them up to the baron’s best bedchamber. ‘But she belongs with her own kind, and it’s only three days to winter cusp.’

The castle-keep stopped in front of the chamber door. ‘I’ll send up a meal. I expect you’ll be famished.’ And she bustled off.

Tobazim could feel Graelen’s roused gift as the warrior knocked on the door.

It flew open. ‘Grae?’ Valendia’s brilliant smile faltered as she took in Tobazim and Iraayel. ‘Where’s Sorne? Is he all right?’

‘Sorne’s fine,’ Graelen said.

As they followed Graelen into the chamber, his devotee sent Tobazim a wary look.

‘We’ve formed an alliance,’ Graelen said.

‘You did?’ She threw her arms around him, kissing him. ‘I’m so glad.’

Laughing, he picked her up and kissed her with great tenderness. It was a side of Graelen that Tobazim had never seen, or imagined existed.

The big adept led his devotee over to the chairs by the fireplace. ‘I’m glad you approve, Dia, but our troubles are not over. When we go back to the ship, Tobazim will have to challenge Kyredeon.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’ Iraayel offered.

‘Why?’ Valendia asked.

‘He’s not one of our brotherhood, and we’re discussing brotherhood business,’ Graelen explained.

‘He is brotherhood,’ Tobazim said. ‘If I survive the challenge, he’ll be welcomed as one of us.’

Iraayel flushed and dropped to his knees. ‘Thank you, all-father.’

Tobazim took him by the shoulders and drew him to his feet with a laugh. ‘Let’s not rush things. First we have to deal with Kyredeon.’

They had been gone thirteen days. Tobazim dreaded to think what might have happened in that time. Just then, the servants arrived with their meals. They ate by the fire as they discussed who in the brotherhood would come over to support Tobazim. If enough of them severed their brotherhood links to the all-father, they would weaken Kyredeon. But would it weaken him enough for Tobazim to defeat him? The problem was that the brothers knew if Kyredeon won, he would execute everyone of high rank who had stood against him, and those he let live would have a miserable existence under his rule.

Iraayel listened to all of this, his eyes following them as they spoke. It was the sort of thing most brotherhood warriors weren’t privy to, let alone a lad of sixteen who had not yet given his vows.

When they had argued themselves back to the start again, Iraayel said, ‘If it’s power you need, why not ask my choice-mother to gift-infuse you?’

Tobazim’s heart leapt and his gift surged at the thought. An infusion of her power could give him the edge he needed.

Valendia turned to Graelen. ‘I thought you said the causare could not interfere in brotherhood business?’

‘She shouldn’t. If the other brotherhoods knew...’ Graelen did not need to spell it out.

‘She won’t be interfering,’ Iraayel said. ‘She will gift-infuse you both as a reward for saving my life. It’s no lie. You did save me at least twice, after all.’ He grinned and shrugged. ‘You can’t help it if by chance she gift-infuses you on the very night you offer challenge to Kyredeon. Coincidence, nothing more.’

‘I like him,’ Graelen told Tobazim. ‘He has a devious mind. But seriously, Tobazim, what he says makes sense. You can’t survive tonight without the causare’s gift-infusion. And you should take Ardonyx as your shield-brother.’

It was everything Tobazim wanted, and it was right there for the taking. But he would find it doubly hard to resist the lure of Imoshen’s gift if he...

‘You wouldn’t be indebted to her, as she’d be rewarding you for saving my life,’ Iraayel said, misinterpreting his hesitation.

‘It’s decided then.’ Graelen stood and went to the balcony, opening the doors to look down on the T’Enatuath’s fleet. ‘We’re in luck. There’s a fog tonight. Kyredeon won’t see us coming. You’ll have time to find Ardonyx and form the shield-brother bond, Tobazim.’ He returned to stand over them. ‘There are too many people relying on you to hesitate now.’

A
HAND TOUCHED
Imoshen’s shoulder. She looked up to see her hand-of-force standing over her. ‘Yes?’

Kiane signalled for silence and led Imoshen across the packed cabin, stepping over sleeping children and inner circle sisters to the passage, where she turned to face her. ‘Iraayel is here –’