Sanctuary (47 page)

Egrayne gave her a thoughtful look, but all she said was, ‘I’ll need to consult the lineage book and go through empowerments of eleven years ago. I can’t remember which brotherhood the bestiare belongs to.’

As soon as they entered the cabin the children’s game stopped. Tancred gave a guilty yelp and crawled behind the desk. At the sight of the big geldr hiding under the desk, the children went into hysterics.

Egrayne rolled her eyes. She would have ordered him out, but Imoshen caught her arm. ‘Let him stay. The empowered lads tease him. He’s happier with the little children.’

Umaleni and Deyne ran to Imoshen, wanting her attention. Hearing Imoshen’s voice, baby Arodyti demanded a feed. Imoshen laughed, as her devotee brought the infant over.

Umaleni looked resentful, which only confirmed Imoshen’s decision to take the baby girl for her choice-daughter. Having a younger sister would be the making of her sacrare child.

Imoshen knelt. ‘Look at baby Aro, Uma. What a grumpy little thing!’

Umaleni’s expression cleared and she smiled. Without prompting, her daughter started to sing. It was only a string of soothing sounds, but it was high and sweet and the intent was clear. Given the chance, she would love her little choice-sister.

‘Look, Uma,’ Deyne cried. He held a glass prism in the shaft of sunlight that came in through the row of windows across the rear of the cabin. Rainbows danced across the floor. Umaleni laughed with delight. She chased the rainbow across the polished wood.

Forgetting that he was not supposed to be in the cabin, Tancred crawled out from behind the desk to join in.

Imoshen smiled. She had done the right thing, bringing Deyne into her small choice-family. When she’d read him, she had remembered the draught horse back on the lighthouse farm. How she loved that huge, patient intelligent beast.

That reminded her. She came to her feet, returned Arodyti to her devotee and looked over Egrayne’s shoulder. ‘Have you found the bestiare yet?’

Egrayne ran her finger down a list of empowerments dating back years.

‘So many dead,’ Egrayne whispered, voice thick with emotion. ‘Each name triggers the memory of an eager child on the day of his or her empowerment. So many lives wasted, so many gifts lost to the T’Enatuath.’

‘We’re free of the Mieren, at least.’ Imoshen squeezed Egrayne’s arm. ‘Or we will be, if we can escape these sea-vermin.’

‘Ahh, there he is: Oteon.’ Egrayne said. ‘He’s twenty-four now, still a youth with another nine years of training to become an adept.’

‘He’s old enough to know the risks.’ Imoshen sat down at her desk to write a carefully-worded message to All-father Tobazim. She needed Oteon’s agreement, and it had to be his decision. No pressure from the causare.

Her pen poised over the page. Why fool herself?

Oteon was a bestiare; he would agree to anything to win stature.

Imoshen knew there was a good chance he might die. But if it came to a choice between this unknown young man and the T’Enatuath, she had no hesitation.

T
OBAZIM WATCHED THE
message stone with its trail of ribbon wing its way from ship to ship. The presence of the sea-vermin had made his brotherhood restless. To occupy them, he’d told his hand-of-force to train them all especially hard today. The initiates were practising on the mid-deck now. The tang of aggressive male gift made his own gift surge.

A sailor caught the message stone and ran to Tobazim to deliver it. ‘It’s from the causare.’

Tobazim stretched out the ribbon and ran his eye down its length.

‘She wants our bestiare, Oteon,’ Tobazim said as he handed the message to his voice-of-reason. ‘See what you think.’

While Ardonyx read, Tobazim shaded his eyes, studying the initiates on the mid-deck. It was crowded but, as usual, there was a space around Iraayel. This annoyed him. He knew Iraayel’s worth. He also knew most of his brothers did not understand why Tobazim had accepted him.

Either they resented the fact that Iraayel had been audacious enough to volunteer for the mission to save the Mieren queen, or they thought the causare had slipped him into the mission to give him an easy way to enter their brotherhood. Since Tobazim hadn’t been the all-father then, this wasn’t even logical, but that didn’t seem to worry them.

Thirteen years of hatred for the causare could not be overcome by Tobazim vouching for Iraayel. The seventeen-year-old would have to win them over.

‘That she’s asked for the bestiare specifically raises both his stature and our brotherhood’s,’ Ardonyx said.

‘But it doesn’t change the nature of his gift.’ Tobazim felt an instinctive repugnance for anything associated with the baser instincts and lack of control. ‘Now we know why the adepts baited Oteon and forced him to fight Iraayel.’

‘He’s not an adept. He could lose himself in the sea-eagle. You can refuse. You’re his all-father.’

This much was true. But... ‘He’s the T’Enatuath’s only bestiare.’

‘At least give him the choice,’ Ardonyx urged, returning the message stone.

‘You know he has no choice. As a bestiare his stature can never be great. If he succeeds, he serves the T’Enatuath and overcomes the stigma of his gift. No, he has no choice and Imoshen knows this, which means I have no choice, either.’ Tobazim cupped his mouth. ‘Oteon?’

The initiate looked up, surprise evident in the way he held his body. Tobazim beckoned.

Ardonyx took Tobazim by the shoulders. ‘Tell me you don’t mean to ride the beast with him?’

‘I’m his all-father. I’ve sworn to protect him. I’ll have to anchor him in case he loses himself in the beast.’

‘Then I’ll anchor you.’

Ardonyx’s offer made the heat race up Tobazim’s cheeks.

‘You thought I wouldn’t?’ Ardonyx was affronted. ‘You’re my shield-brother.’

‘Of eleven days. It’s not like we’ve shared a lifetime and our gifts are so deeply linked that my death would kill you. The T’Enatuath need you.’ He shrugged ‘I’m –’

‘Tobazim, I –’

‘You wanted to see me, all-father?’ Oteon sprang up the steps, then gave the correct obeisance.

Tobazim handed him the message ribbon. ‘You don’t have to accept. But if you do, I’ll be your anchor.’

For a heartbeat Oteon read the delicate script, then shaded his eyes and looked up into the sky until he spotted the sea-eagle. He returned the message. ‘I volunteer.’

‘In that case, we’ll need to deepen our link. Ardonyx, let the causare know. Tell Deimosh and Ceyne to meet us in the cabin.’

Tobazim and Oteon went to the captain’s cabin, where they removed their shoes before bathing their faces, hands and feet, to purify their minds and bodies.

By the time Ardonyx returned with Ceyne and Deimosh, Norsasno had joined them. The hand-of-force spread the circular, ceremonial rug on the cabin floor.

Clearly nervous, Oteon knelt on the rug. He wore only the breeches he’d been training in; his hard, muscled chest bare, his toes curled neatly under him.

Tobazim knelt facing him, his left knee beside Oteon’s. Tobazim raised his left arm, palm out, revealing the fine skin of his inner wrist where the blood moved close to the surface. This was going to be a deeper link than the average all-father-to-brother link, but not as deep as that of shield-brothers. If Oteon failed, Tobazim did not want to perish with him.

Even so, he would do everything he could to save the youth.

Oteon held up his left arm, but hesitated.

Tobazim clasped his hand so that their forearms touched, elbow to hand, fingers entwined. ‘I am your all-father. You can trust me to guide and lead you in this gift-working.’

‘You are my all-father. I trust you.’ An old ritual, the words repeated often in training, it opened gift defences.

A rush of awareness swamped Tobazim. He shared Oteon’s excitement and fear and, underneath it, he experienced the youth’s reluctance to reveal his sordid gift before the all-father and his inner circle; indeed, before the whole T’Enatuath.

Reasserting control, Tobazim cleared his mind and focused. ‘You do this for the T’Enatuath. We are relying on you.’

Oteon nodded.

Tobazim let his arm drop. Now that the link was established, he could sustain it without contact for a short while. He sent Ardonyx a nod. They were ready.

The others had knelt, forming a circle around them. It was a sparse circle. He needed another three or four high-ranking initiates to fill out his inner circle. But he was holding off until he was sure of his brothers.

That was a problem for another day.

Tobazim returned his attention to the initiate. ‘Call your gift, Oteon. I’ll anchor you.’

The youth cleared his mind and Tobazim went with him, preparing to segue to the empyrean plane. But this was not your standard gift-working. Instead of that familiar, if dangerous plane, Oteon remained in the earthly plane.

With what could only be described as joy, the youth shed his body as if it was a useless husk and leapt for the sea-eagle, settling into the bird like a second skin.

The transition was so abrupt that Tobazim felt nauseous. Instinctively, he detached a little so that he was not as immersed in the beast as Oteon. But he still experienced the seductive power of the eagle’s broad wings and savoured the incredible detail of its sight, as it soared high over the T’Enatuath’s fleet.

When Oteon tried to influence the sea-eagle’s will, Tobazim sensed conflict. The great predator did not want to be ridden.

Even so, it tilted its broad wings and sailed the air currents in a wide arc that carried it over the sea-vermin.

There were many different vessels scattered across the sparkling sea, and each boat was crowded with desperate, hungry Mieren...

So many that Tobazim despaired for his people.

Oteon had to look for the biggest ship and, once he’d found it, to seek the Mieren with the aura of authority to locate the leader of the sea-vermin.

As the sea-eagle circled lower and lower, Tobazim spotted a merchant ship, bigger than the rest. The three-masted vessel flew a banner depicting a stylised sea-eagle.

The crew saw the sea-eagle and pointed, cheering. Oteon urged the bird towards them.

One of the Mieren on the rear deck had the look of a southerner, and he strode to meet the gliding sea-eagle as though it was his destiny. As he passed, he snatched a shinbone from a companion and offered this along with his arm, encased in worn leather.

The sea-eagle alighted on the captain’s arm.

Tobazim felt Oteon fight to control the bird’s instinct to feed. Finally, the bestiare won, driving the sea-eagle to strike the captain’s face.

The Mieren screamed and covered his eye.

Tobazim experienced Oteon’s triumph as the sea-eagle rose above the deck with an eye dangling from its beak.

As the sea-eagle beat its wings to gain height, the bestiare fought the bird’s instinct to toss its head back and gulp down the tasty morsel.

Without warning, something hit the sea-eagle’s body, striking so hard the bird was driven sideways through the air. As it stuggled to gain height a crossbow bolt hissed past. Another struck and the bird spiralled down.

Tobazim tried to drag the youth back, but Oteon fought him, fought to save the bird.

One of the sea-eagle’s wingtips brushed a wave. It floundered, struggling on the surface of the sea. And Tobazim struggled with Oteon. The bird’s great talons seemed to tear at him.

Something pulled on them. In the midst of the struggle, Tobazim was aware of a net, and of shouting from the ship as the wounded bird was hauled aboard.

Still Oteon would not let go. Tobazim had promised to anchor him. He tried to save the youth, but... Oteon snapped at him, in pain and rage. A familiar essence enfolded Tobazim and he recognised Ardonyx. In that instant, he lost his hold on Oteon and he was drawn back to his body.

Tobazim opened his eyes to find himself lying on the rug in Ardonyx’s arms. His skin was wet with sweat. Long welts crossed his chest and forearms. They stung where sweat mingled with blood.

‘I thought I’d lost you,’ Ardonyx whispered.

Tobazim rolled to his knees. ‘Oteon?’

His heart sank as he looked over at the youth, who was frozen in a seemingly impossible position of contorted pain. He still breathed, but his open eyes were glazed and he did not react when Tobazim tried to rouse him. ‘Oteon...’

‘You did all you could,’ Ardonyx said.

‘Ceyne, can you do something?’ Tobazim asked.

The saw-bones crouched over the youth, but did not touch him. He shook his head. ‘I can set a broken bone. This is gift-working gone awry.’

Tobazim looked to Deimosh.

‘I train the gifts. I can’t repair them, only Ceriane can...’ Deimosh ran down, as they all remembered she was dead.

‘We have to do something,’ Tobazim insisted. ‘What about Reoden?’

‘She’s a healer of flesh,’ Ardonyx said.

‘The causare, then?’

‘She’s a raedan.’

‘We have to do something! We cannot leave him like this.’ Tobazim leapt to his feet, swayed and almost fell. As Ardonyx steadied him, Tobazim remembered Sorne saying that between them, Ceriane, Imoshen and Reoden had healed his empyrean wound. ‘Maybe together the causare and healer can do something.’

Chapter Thirty-Six

R
ONNYN STOOD AT
the side of the ship to watch them winch the unconscious brother aboard. ‘Doesn’t each brotherhood have its own saw-bones and herbalists, Sar?’

‘Yes, but sometimes they petition our choice-mother –’

Cerafeoni strode past, shouting commands and ordering the Malaunje below deck.

Nerazime noticed the boys. ‘Go to the cabin, now.’

Ronnyn and Sardeon backed off.

But the moment she was distracted, Ronnyn circled around the T’En women until he found a spot behind Sarodyti, her shield-sister and the historian, Alynar, who were watching the proceedings intently. After a moment, Sardeon joined him.

Meanwhile, the all-father and his voice-of-reason had climbed aboard and waited as their companion was lowered to the deck.

Tobazim wore only his breeches. He seemed unaware that he bled from several long, shallow cuts across his chest and upper arms.