Sanctuary (41 page)

The gift-tutor nodded.

‘The night we fled the wharf, the causare gift-infused me. Since then...’ He swallowed. ‘The nature of my gift has changed. I used to be able to sense the stresses and weights of a building. I can still do this, but I can also sense the stresses on the brotherhood now, as if it was a building constructed of people.’

‘That’s... interesting.’

‘Have you come across anything like it before?’

He shook his head. ‘Your gift-defences were down, thanks to the concussion you’d received that night. You were vulnerable. The causare’s gift is the ability to read people. It sounds like she has triggered a new facet of your gift, one that combines her ability with yours. I wonder –’

‘If it can be repeated?’ Tobazim had been wondering the same thing. He rubbed his head and grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t recommend trying it.’

Deimosh grinned. ‘If I were you, I’d call it a lucky accident and be grateful.’

Tobazim came to his feet. ‘Think I’ll stretch my legs.’

As he went to open the door, the gift-tutor added, ‘No more problems with craving her gift?’

Tobazim turned around. ‘You noticed? Did anyone –’

‘No. If they wondered why you were pushing yourself so hard, they put it down to the tension with Kyredeon. But I would be wary of her in future. Any taste of her gift could trigger the craving. Now that I think of it, you’re lucky you didn’t have a bad reaction when she used her gift to enforce the covenant vow.’

Tobazim nodded. He’d told no one, not even Ardonyx, that the causare hadn’t enforced the covenant vow. He was grateful, but he didn’t understand why she had broken four hundred years of custom.

Still wondering, he went along the passage and out onto the rear-deck. The ships were at anchor tonight, shrouded in fog. He climbed the stairs to the high rear-deck where he found Ardonyx on watch, wrapped in a cloak. His shield-brother smiled when he saw Tobazim, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

‘What is it?’ Tobazim asked.

‘This fog. We’re becalmed until it lifts, and it provides perfect cover for any sea-vermin in the area.’

‘We should warn –’

‘Don’t worry, any sea captain worth his salt will be on alert tonight. If trouble comes, we’ll be ready for it.’

R
ONNYN CURLED UP
with his brothers, part of the huddle of T’En boys in the sisterhood’s cabin. The ships were at anchor until the fog lifted. The all-mother and her inner circle were on the deck above. He could hear the murmur of their voices and soft music. He wasn’t sure why he had woken. Beside him, Vittor shifted restlessly.

‘I miss Vella,’ his six-year-old brother whispered.

‘Tani...’ Tamaron muttered in his sleep and rolled over.

Baby Ashmyr stirred, working himself up to a cry. Ronnyn rolled to his feet before Ashmyr could wake the children. When he took the baby outside, he found that the fog had grown even thicker. The lanterns cast pools of golden light, making the air almost tangible.

Ashmyr was crying in earnest by the time Ronnyn climbed up to the foredeck. The women laughed and All-mother Reoden glided over, taking the baby to feed him. When Ashmyr latched on, Ronnyn could hear him gulping.

‘He’ll get wind.’

‘So wise for one so young.’

A cry came from the nearest ship. Through the fog, Ronnyn could just make out the lanterns on the ship’s five masts.

Another cry followed.

‘Ree, what is it?’ Nerazime came running over. ‘Not more brotherhood feuding? They swore a vow.’

‘That’s the
Endurance
, Ceriane and Athazi’s ship. I wonder –’

A scream cut her short. Flames leapt up from the ship’s deck, glowing in the fog.

‘Fire,’ Reoden said. ‘Send help, Nerazime.’

Her voice-of-reason ran down the steps to the mid-deck.

Ronnyn went to the rail to watch them lower the boats. There was shouting as they organised buckets and volunteers. The empowered lads surged out of the cabin below, jostling and teasing, eager to help.

Through their excited talk, the roar of the fire and desperate shouts of those on the
Endurance
, Ronnyn made out the clang of metal on metal. His stomach clenched.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked the all-mother. ‘Their ship’s under attack.’

Reoden thrust baby Ashmyr into his arms and ran down the steps onto the mid-deck, calling to her hand-of-force. ‘Athazi and Ceriane are under attack. Cerafeoni, hand out weapons and go to their aid. Nerazime, secure our ship.’

The mid-deck erupted in a flurry of activity as the hand-of-force from the causare’s sisterhood came out with their warriors. Cerafeoni shouted, and the empowered lads poured over the ship’s side. Ronnyn shivered, impressed and a little terrified by their eagerness to wade into battle.

He watched the rowboats pull away. Soon the first was swallowed by the fog, and only a dim pool of light told him of its progress. A second followed.

Shouting came from another ship, and more ringing of metal. If he was right, it came from a brotherhood vessel.

Fear chilled him. What if his sisters’ ship was under attack? Even as he thought this, Vittor came running out on deck, calling for him. By the time Ronnyn reached the steps, Tamaron was there too, frightened and bewildered.

They both threw their arms around him. He could feel Vittor shaking. How could he protect them all with the baby in his arms?

‘Not so tight, you’ll squash Ashmyr.’ Ronnyn tried to reassure them. It’s all right. It’s –’

‘No, it isn’t!’ Vittor cried. ‘You said we’d be safe with our people, and we’re not!’

A
RAVELLE SURFACED FROM
the sleep of exhaustion. She surfaced with her heart pounding so hard it seemed to shake her whole body. For an instant she didn’t know what was wrong. Then the slippery sound of steel-on-steel set her teeth on edge. She sprang into a crouch, ready to run with Itania. Her little sister clutched her, trembling.

In the dimness of Charsoria’s cabin, the women woke and whispered fearfully.

Nariska lit a lamp, turning it down low. Children whimpered. The women soothed them, but Charsoria ignored Aravelle and Itania.

Aravelle opened a window. The harsh sound of the fighting increased as tendrils of fog reached into the cabin. ‘It’s coming from the ship next to us.’

‘We should go help,’ one of the young warriors said.

‘You stay,’ Charsoria snapped. ‘They’ll send for you if they need you.’

The four warriors pulled on their breeches, leather jerkins and boots. They’d just finished dressing when the cabin door swung open. A Malaunje youth gasped for breath. ‘Hand-of-Force Reyne calls on all warriors to help fight the sea-vermin.’

‘Is our ship under attack?’ Charsoria demanded.

‘No. It’s the
Perseverance
. And I heard that one of the sisterhood ships is on fire.’

‘Which one?’ Aravelle asked, thinking of Ronnyn and her brothers.

‘Don’t know.’ He dashed off, accompanied by the four warriors.

Aravelle backed up, felt a bunk behind her knees and sat down abruptly. Itania gave a little squeak of fright and her fingers worked on Aravelle’s shoulder, seeking reassurance.

Thrusting Itania into Redravia’s arms, Aravelle made for the door. ‘I must –’

Charsoria grabbed her as she passed, swinging her around. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘To the deck, to find out which sisterhood ship –’

‘You’ll stay right here.’

‘But my brothers –’

‘You think they’re thinking of you right now? You’re nothing to them.’

‘Ronnyn will never –’

Charsoria slapped her hard enough to make her stagger.

‘Arrogant brat!’ Charsoria was so angry she quivered. ‘Never make claim on your T’En kin. Do you hear me?’

Aravelle blinked tears of pain from her eyes. ‘I just need to know if they are all right.’

‘You think you’re the only one with T’En kin? I have a son on All-mother Melisarone’s ship. He’s only two. Do you think I don’t worry about him?’ Her voice had grown shrill and she made a visible effort to regain control. ‘The sisterhoods have sworn to protect the T’En children with their lives. There’s nothing we can do, so you can just sit down and keep your mouth shut.’

Charsoria turned away and Hariorta consoled her.

As much as Aravelle hated Charsoria, in that moment she also felt sorry for her. For all of them.

She retreated to her bedroll, where Itania crept into her arms.

After a while, the fighting died down. But now she could smell smoke and hear a dim roaring.

Charsoria told Redravia to prepare a soothing hot milk posset to settle the children. When the old woman brought Aravelle a mug for Itania, it smelt of almonds, lemons and brandy, just like her mother’s posset.

‘Don’t fret,’ Redravia whispered. ‘Your brothers will be safe. They’re on the causare’s ship with Healer Reoden.’ She squeezed Aravelle’s hand. ‘You need to accept it, Vella. By the time your brothers take their place as initiates, they won’t acknowledge you. If you try to reach out to them, you’ll only embarrass yourself and them.’

Rebellion burned in Aravelle’s heart. She told herself Ronnyn would never abandon her. But she found Redravia’s sympathetic warning much harder to ignore.

‘C
OME WITH ME
.’

Ronnyn led his brothers back to the cabin. He found two empowered lads at the door, armed with long-knives. He knew the lads from weapons practice and had admired their skill. Both were head and shoulders taller than him, and both looked determined. Violence-tinged gift readiness radiated from them, making his heart race.

Inside the cabin all the children and the three old T’En women were clustered at the windows. They’d doused the cabin lamp so that Ronnyn had to pick his way across the floor, which was littered with bedding.

‘Over here.’ Sardeon made room for them.

Ronnyn let his little brothers climb up to peer out the windows, while he looked over Sardeon’s shoulder. All he could make out through the fog was leaping flames and the shadows of people fighting.

‘Ronnyn?’ Reoden’s devotee tapped his shoulder. She held out her arms, dark eyes gleaming with fierce determination. ‘Let me take Ashmyr. I can protect him if there’s trouble.’

He did not doubt she meant it, and if the sea-vermin attacked, he would have enough to do watching out for Vittor and Tamaron. He handed baby Ashmyr over to her.

And a weight lifted from him. Ever since his father had been gored by the sea-boar, he’d shouldered the load of protecting his family. At least now he didn’t have to do it all on his own.

‘With that fire we’ve so much lost,’ old Alynar muttered, shaking her head. ‘The paintings, the treatises –’

‘Just like a historian to value the past over people,’ Gift-tutor Sarodyti said, sharing a smile with her scarred shield-sister.

‘The fighting’s died down,’ Sardeon said.

Sarodyti took the old, scarred woman’s arm. ‘Come, Lysi.’

They lit the lamp and mixed up a warm posset to settle the children. Ronnyn tucked his little brothers into bed. All the while, he watched the other ship.

At last, they heard the sounds of oars breaking water and the rowboats approached the ships.

Ronnyn and Sardeon tried to slip out of the cabin, but Sarodyti spotted them.

‘Where are you two off to?’

‘They’re coming back,’ Ronnyn said.

They all went outside then, leaving the devotees to watch over the sleeping children.

The mid-deck was full of Malaunje helping as the empowered lads, Malaunje warriors and T’En sisters from both Reoden and the causare’s sisterhoods returned.

‘What happened?’ Sarodyti asked their hand-of-force.

Cerafeoni was sooty and bloody, but she seemed unharmed. ‘Sea-vermin attacked, using the fog as cover. Ceriane’s dead, her voice-of-reason and hand-of-force, too, but we saved the T’En children and none of the Malaunje children were lost.’

‘How could this happen?’ The historian turned on Sarodyti’s scarred shield-sister. ‘You should have foreseen it, Lysi. You should have warned us.’

‘Don’t,’ Sarodyti warned.

‘Don’t what? Don’t say what everyone’s thinking? What good is a scryer, if she won’t scry?’

Ronnyn glanced to the scarred woman. She lifted one trembling hand to her mouth, her lips working as if she was trying to hold something back. Her left eye just above the scar twitched and the scar climbed further up her cheek.

He blinked. Surely that scar had not advanced? And, if this sister could see the future, why hadn’t she warned them?

With a strangled moan, the scryer turned and ran down the passage towards the cabin.

‘Now, look what you’ve done,’ Sarodyti muttered, going to follow her.

The historian caught her arm. ‘It’s about time someone said it. She might be your shield-sister, but you’re not doing her any favours. She has to face this or –’

‘Saro, we’re going over to the
Endurance
to help treat the injured. You’re in charge,’ Nerazime announced as she delivered an empowered lad, who was clasping an injured arm to his chest. Blood poured from between his fingers. ‘This is one of Ceriane’s lads. He fought well. Have Ree’s devotee see to him.’

When Nerazime left him, the big lad swayed and almost fell.

Sarodyti beckoned Ronnyn and Sardeon. ‘Help him into the cabin before he passes out. Get Meleya to sew him up.’

They guided the injured lad, stumbling and groggy from blood-loss, down the hall. Just inside the cabin, his knees gave out.

Between them, they lowered him to the floor and called for the healer’s devotee.

Meleya rolled him over, clucking her tongue as she inspected the wound in his forearm. ‘This is deep. It’ll need stitching. Fetch the bag, Sardeon.’

The devotee wrapped a cloth around the lad’s forearm.

‘Ronnyn, I need you to hold this tight as you can and keep his arm raised. We must stop the bleeding.’

Sardeon returned with the bag and she unrolled it, selecting powder, thread and needle. ‘This will hurt, lad.’

‘You think it doesn’t hurt now?’ he muttered.

Ronnyn met Sardeon’s eyes with a smile.