Sanctuary (7 page)

‘The assassin’s up there now,’ Haromyr said. ‘Graelen.’

Tobazim let his gaze wander across the elite of the brotherhood’s warriors, Hand-of-force Oriemn and his followers. He spotted the new man, a gift-warrior by his neck torc – the most dangerous T’En men always were. Hard of face and lean of body, Graelen fitted right in with Oriemn and his bullies. Contempt burned in Tobazim. Kyredeon’s brotherhood knew only one rule, the rule of force for self-advancement. Honour, duty and the protection of those weaker than oneself were values dating from the High Golden Age of the T’En, and had no place here.

‘We have to kill him,’ Haromyr whispered.

‘Kill him,’ Ionnyn echoed. In the year that Tobazim had been with the city brotherhood, a core of discontented young adepts and initiates had gathered around him. He feared for them, because if Kyredeon killed him, the all-father would purge all his supporters. ‘Kill the assassin before Kyredeon sends him against you and Ardonyx.’

‘I won’t kill an innocent man.’

‘He’s not innocent.’ Haromyr laughed sourly. ‘If half the things they say about him are true –’

‘I won’t kill just because someone
might
do me harm.’

Ionnyn snorted. ‘You can bet Kyredeon won’t let scruples stay his hand.’

‘Tobazim,’ Athlyn pleaded, ‘if you die, we are lost.’

It was true, but... ‘If I kill on a mere suspicion, I am no better than Kyredeon and we are lost.’

‘That’s all very well in principle,’ Eryx muttered. ‘But –’

‘But we can’t watch you every moment of the day,’ Haromyr said.

‘You’re right,’ Tobazim conceded. ‘But is that the way we want to live our lives? Strike and counter strike? Living in fear?’

‘We want to live free of fear,’ Athlyn said. ‘Free of Kyredeon.’

The others went very still.

‘You speak treason,’ Tobazim whispered.

‘He speaks what we have all thought,’ Eryx said. ‘Ever since the all-father drove Learon to seek an honourable death –’

‘I’ll consult Ardonyx, see what he says.’

‘And if he says to kill before the assassin can kill you?’ Ionnyn pressed.

Haromyr nodded. For once, he was in agreement with Ionnyn. ‘What then?’

‘We can’t...’ Eryx broke off as a beautiful young Malaunje woman came up the steps to the lower rear-deck. ‘That’s his devotee.’

She was as tall as a T’En woman, all ripe curves and unconscious grace, and when she smiled her face blossomed like a flower.

‘Close your mouth, Athlyn,’ Haromyr teased.

The young initiate gulped. ‘I just don’t get it. How could someone like the assassin win someone like her?’

Kyredeon’s voice-of-reason was all smiles as he led her into the passage to the captain’s cabin.

Tobazim looked up to the assassin, who went to move, but the brotherhood’s hand-of-force and his followers hemmed him in.

Tobazim suspected the assassin was as trapped as they were.

But that did not make him their ally.

P
RESSED BETWEEN THE
hand-of-force and his followers, Graelen could not move. Surely Kyredeon would not hurt Valendia? The bond between a T’En and his devotee was sacred, and she was innocent. But he remembered Kyredeon’s irrational hatred for All-father Paragian and his devotee, and feared for Dia.

‘Look down there,’ Hand-of-force Oriemn said. ‘See the knot of brothers together? The one in the centre is Tobazim. Mark him well. Now the all-father wants to see you.’

Oriemn led Graelen down to the captain’s cabin under the high rear-deck. When Graelen walked in, he sensed the build-up of aggressive male gift, and his own gift surged in response. As if it hadn’t been enough to see Valendia sitting on the desk, between the all-father and his voice-of-reason. In that heartbeat, Graelen would have promised them anything to spare her.

Unaware of the danger, Valendia was playing the zither and singing one of her compositions. Her voice was sweet and pure.

‘I heard that your devotee needed a zither,’ Kyredeon said. ‘So I found one for her.’

Valendia looked up from the instrument. Her eyes sought his, telling him she was aware of the danger and wanted him to reassure her. But what she read in his face made her look down. Shame stung him; what had he led her into?

‘You can go now,’ Kyredeon told Valendia.

She put the zither down and gave the deep obeisance, hands going to her heart to convey love and to her head to convey duty. ‘Thank you, all-father.’

Kyredeon handed her the instrument. ‘I make you a gift of this. Think of me whenever you play it.’

Dry-mouthed, Graelen watched her walk out. She looked back at him once before the door closed. He wanted to tell her to run, but there was nowhere to run to.

‘Such a sweet creature, your devotee,’ Kyredeon said. ‘And she carries your child, the saw-bones tells me.’

‘Yes.’ He could hardly speak. If Ceyne hoped this would protect Valendia, he did not know Kyredeon as well as Graelen did. Years ago, the all-father had told him if you know what someone values, you know their weakness. Had Kyredeon lived up to his all-father vows, he would have protected Valendia with his life.

‘I wonder... Are you loyal, Grae?’ Kyredeon said.

‘You know I am loyal. All I have ever done is serve you faithfully.’

‘There is something you can do for me to prove your loyalty,’

‘Name it.’

‘There are two trouble-makers on this ship, Captain Ardonyx and Adept Tobazim. I want you to assassinate Tobazim.’

‘Not Ardonyx?’

‘He’s from Chariode’s brotherhood, and doesn’t have the depth of following amongst the younger brothers that Tobazim has. Tobazim’s death will have to look like an accident, so take your time, but... If you should hear that they are planning a challenge, you must bring me word. I will need to purge the brotherhood of his followers.’

Graelen nodded. Anything to protect Valendia.

T
OBAZIM WAITED UNTIL
the high rear-deck was empty of everyone but the helmsman and Ardonyx, then he went up the steps.

Ardonyx strode over to join him. The pitch of the deck didn’t seem to bother him at all. ‘You shouldn’t be up here. I’ve already had trouble with Kyredeon today.’

‘Over what?’ Tobazim asked.

‘Tamaron’s people. To hear Kyredeon talk, you’d think it was lack of foresight that sent the all-father and his inner circle on a tour of their brotherhood’s estates just before the Celestial City was besieged.’

Tobazim bristled on Ardonyx’s behalf. ‘You did the right thing, giving his leaderless brotherhood shelter on your ship.’

‘Not according to Kyredeon. He begrudges them the space and the food.’

‘It won’t be for long. Tamaron and the rest of his people will meet us at Shifting-sands Bay and –’

‘And then we won’t have a ship for him, unless we can buy one from Baron Nitzane.’

‘Sorne can negotiate.’ Tobazim steered the conversation back to what was worrying him. ‘Just before the wharf was attacked, you came to tell me Kyredeon’s assassin had returned. What were you going to say?’

‘Why? What are the others saying?’

‘That I should kill him before he can kill me. What do you say?’

‘I say we should not deal so readily in death. This Graelen is a friend of Saw-bones Ceyne. He could be useful to us if...’ Ardonyx met his eyes.

‘If?’

‘You want me to say it?’ Ardonyx shrugged. ‘It is only a matter of time before Kyredeon strikes out at us. When that day comes, we’ll need all the high-ranking adepts we can muster.’

Tobazim’s mouth went dry with fear. ‘To offer challenge is to be ready to die. Mine is not a martial gift.’ And he did not have a shield-brother to support him when they battled the old brotherhood leader and his shield-brother on the higher plane. Tobazim’s heart leapt. Was Ardonyx offering this bond?

‘Speak with Ceyne. He was on the previous all-father’s inner circle. He’s known Graelen since he was a lad of seventeen. Don’t judge the man by his reputation. In this brotherhood, a bad reputation is a good thing.’

Tobazim grinned. He went downstairs to the infirmary, where he found quite a few adepts and initiates suffering from sea-sickness. And, to his surprise, the assassin’s devotee was helping brew a big pot of peppermint tea.

‘Almost ready,’ she told him kindly. ‘A cup of this will settle your stomach.’

He shook his head. What was she doing with a cruel, hard man like Graelen?

Someone moaned and called for a bucket. Tobazim turned to see Athlyn, pale and sweaty. Graelen’s devotee held the bucket for him, offered him a drink afterwards and rinsed the bucket. Kind and good-hearted.

Tobazim caught up with Ceyne, who drew him into the bathing chamber so they could speak in privacy.

Tobazim turned to face him. ‘What can you tell me about the assassin, Graelen?’

The saw-bones hesitated.

‘Is he our enemy?’

‘Rather, you should ask, do you have a common enemy?’

‘I think I should ask if he is an honourable man.’

Ceyne hesitated. ‘Before Kyredeon came to power, Sigorian was all-father. This brotherhood has not had an all-father of substance for over forty years. We have all had to do dishonourable things to survive. The night Graelen gave his vows, he was only sixteen and determined to win stature. That night my apprentice was unjustly accused of spying for Chariode’s brotherhood. I couldn’t save him. If I’d tried, I would have died, too. I still have nightmares.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry won’t save us from Kyredeon’s paranoia.’

‘P
EPPERMINT TEA
?’

‘Thank you, Dia.’ Graelen accepted it. As the day progressed, almost everyone had become seasick. Valendia was one of the lucky ones who seemed immune. She’d been in the sick bay helping Ceyne with the worst cases.

‘Doesn’t cleaning up after others make you feel sick?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I nursed my mother when she was ailing. It took her nearly two years to die. Looking after those who are ill makes me grateful to be alive.’

He shook his head. ‘No wonder you are wise beyond your years.’

She laughed and went inside. He remained on deck. He much preferred to be outside with the wind in his face. It seemed not many of the others shared his preference; the decks were mostly empty.

He sipped the hot peppermint tea. His stomach was feeling a little better and he was considering trying to catch some sleep when Tobazim came out of the passage to the cabins. Graelen was surprised to see him alone, but his supporters were probably all laid low with the heaves.

Tobazim paused halfway out the door as their eyes met.

Graelen could have bundled Tobazim overboard right then – it was the perfect opportunity – but he didn’t.

He turned back to the rail and looked out over the side of the ship.

Tobazim joined him. ‘They tell me you are Kyredeon’s assassin.’

Graelen schooled his face to reveal nothing. Meanwhile his free hand closed on the hilt of his long-knife.

‘They tell me I should have you killed, before you kill me. Ardonyx says you could be useful. Ceyne says –’

‘Ceyne?’ Graelen was surprised. Was the saw-bones playing them off each other? He must not let Kyredeon’s paranoia infect him. ‘The saw-bones advises you?’

‘I would be a fool not to listen to him. He has advised me since the night we arrived in the palace.’

‘And you trust him? The saw-bones has been on Kyredeon’s inner circle since the all-father seized power.’

‘Ceyne is a good man in a difficult position.’

That was what Graelen had always believed. He released his knife hilt. ‘What does the saw-bones say?’

‘He says that you are also a good man in a difficult position. Is he right?’

‘I don’t...’ Graelen broke off as several adepts came out onto the deck. He tensed, watching them.

When he turned back, Tobazim was gone. But they had seen them together. If the all-father found out, Kyredeon’s paranoia would lead him to assume the worst.

There was only one way to prove his loyalty – kill Tobazim.

I
MOSHEN SERVED MINT
tea to help settle seasick stomachs. It was evening of their first day at sea, and everyone suffered. She was lucky; having grown up fishing in small rowboats, she had no trouble with the pitching of the deck.

She lit the lamp, turned it down low and hung it from the hook, then surveyed the cabin full of moaning women and small children. It was going to be a long night.

Towards dawn there was a reprieve and nearly everyone had fallen asleep. Her devotee, Frayvia, was just as sick as the rest, but she told Imoshen to rest.

‘I think I’ll get some fresh air.’ She slung her cloak around her shoulders and went out on deck. It was a clear, bitingly cold night, with a faint hint of grey in the east.

Imoshen’s heart filled with joy. Exile meant change, and she welcomed it.

Eventually the chill became too much and she returned to the cabin to find all was quiet. Frayvia had taken the chance to dress for the day and was kneeling next to her chest. When she noticed Imoshen, she rolled something up and went to put it away.

‘What’s that?’ Imoshen whispered.

‘A gift from Sorne,’ she said, after a moment’s hesitation. Imoshen’s gift surged; Frayvia’s reluctance to reveal the object sprang from the depth of her feelings for Sorne. ‘It belonged to his mother. It’s the only thing he has of hers.’

‘Then it is a very rich gift, indeed,’ Imoshen said. ‘Can I see?’

Frayvia placed the neck torc in her hands.

‘I don’t recognise the design.’

‘He believes it came from across the eastern mountains.’

‘That explains the stone. I’ve never seen anything like it. Such a vivid blue.’

Frayvia flushed. ‘Sorne used to wear the torc when King Charald asked him for a vision. It would glow when the predators from the higher plane came through.’

‘Sorne...’ Imoshen hesitated. As a Malaunje, Sorne had no innate power. She believed, had he been born T’En, he would have been a seer, capable of calling up visions. Being Malaunje, Sorne had siphoned off power from the empyrean plane to trigger his visions, but to do this... ‘He risked death each time he had a vision. He’s lucky the empyrean predators he summoned were satisfied with the offerings he made. The gift residue in T’En relics would not have been enough for the really dangerous beasts. They could have –’