Winter Be My Shield (55 page)

Ardamon lifted the flap and hesitated for a moment while cold air and drifting snow swirled in around his shoulders. ‘My father is here to speak to you,' he said at last and came inside while another soldier held the flap up for Dremman.

Sierra searched the war-leader's face for any hint of shame or guilt. Not for what he had tried to do to her, she expected no regret for that, but for what his actions had done to Mira. The cold gaze he turned on Sierra seemed to indicate he blamed
her
for what had come to pass.

‘Miss Sierra,' he said. ‘You have my apologies for this unfortunate incident. It seems agents of the king who had been planted among my
men were responsible for your abduction. I am most relieved their plot came to nothing.'

‘You are?' Sierra said. ‘Perhaps you can tell me, War-Leader, did this occur before or after Mira decided to return to Ruhavera?'

‘After, of course,' Dremman said. ‘If you were not here when Mira left your absence would have been noticed and the alarm raised. My men think it most likely that some of these fellows crept in here once Mirasada had departed and drugged you while you slept. Unfortunately we cannot be sure we have discovered all the king's spies. It would be best for you to remain here in Mirasada's tent. I will leave the guards in place, for your safety, of course. It would be best not to make much fuss over this little incident. There are those among my men who distrust your kind and if rumours were to spread that you made an attempt to desert and return to your former master, the mood of my men could turn dangerous very quickly.'

‘Oh, I understand
perfectly
, War-Leader,' Sierra said. ‘But you may rest assured, if I detect any other threat towards me or my friends I will make every effort to keep the culprits alive so they can face the clan's justice.'

‘Quite so,' Dremman said, with a smile that had every appearance of warmth. ‘Well then, Miss Sierra, I will leave you to rest and recover from your ordeal. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask one of your guards. They will supply you with anything you require.'

Once he left Sierra went over to the entrance to listen as the guards took up their positions again. No doubt Dremman had ordered them to report on any conversations they could hear. The rest of the tent was tightly sewn from reindeer hides with water and windproof seams. The doorway was the one weak point where they might be able to overhear what was said. It was too bad Mira was gone. The strumming of her setar would have made their conversation unintelligible but perhaps a crackling fire and the hiss of a simmering kettle would be enough, so long as they kept their voices down.

‘How much did you tell your father?' she said quietly to Ardamon, who had seated himself in Mira's chair with his chin resting on his fist.

‘Only that Cam convinced me you would wake early. He accepted I made the right choice.'

‘Didn't he want to know why you didn't come and tell him that before riding off?' Cam said.

‘It would have taken too long. I only just reached her in time as it was.'

‘And does he know I know the truth of what happened?' Sierra asked him.

‘Probably. I only told him you were suspicious. He wouldn't have believed anything less.'

‘And what about Rasten?' Cam said.

‘I told him nothing of that. If he knew he would be making plans to have you killed without delay.'

‘Oh, yes,' Sierra said with a toss of her head. ‘The only thing worse than a sorcerer is a sorcerer you know cursed well you can't control. What's his next move?'

‘How in the hells should I know? Look, you arrogant little chit! I've spent this entire day running around like a servant for your sake! And if it wasn't bad enough that my cousin was hauled away like a cow to the market, the only reason my father seems to care is because of the trouble it's going to make when we postpone the betrothal. Am I the only one who cares one jot what's going to happen to Mira?'

‘You're not,' Cam said. ‘But there's nothing we can do about that right now.'

Ardamon hurled his tea-bowl against the stove, where it shattered in a clatter of pottery shards. ‘How dare you?'

‘It was true when we learned Isidro had been taken and it's true now,' Cam said. ‘We'll get her back. We
will
. But for the moment we have a more pressing concern.'

Ardamon clenched his fists with a snarl.

‘We need a plan
now
,' Cam said, ignoring his anger. ‘And we need to know if we can trust you.'

Ardamon clenched his hands around the arms of the chair and rolled his head back with a sound halfway between a roar and a moan. ‘Black Sun take you, you son of a bitch! Do you think I would do that to Mira? This … this sorcerer of yours.' He pointed one long finger at Sierra. ‘She may be as flighty as a yearling filly but she's the best chance we have of taking Mira back. Just what kind of man do you think I am that I would abandon her like that?'

‘I think you're a man who is loyal to his kin and his clan,' Cam said. ‘Dremman isn't going to sit back and pick at his teeth because his plan failed. No doubt he's already concocting another way to get rid of Sirri.
If you're serious about helping us you're going to have to lie to his face. If you can't do that then you had better leave now.'

‘I'll keep your secrets,' Ardamon said through clenched teeth. ‘I'd swear it on the honour of my clan but I doubt that you would accept that oath.'

‘No,' Sierra said. ‘Swear it on your cousin's life. That, I will accept.'

‘On Mira's life, I swear,' Ardamon said and then buried his face in his hands.

While they spoke Rhia had been mixing a blend of herbs in a bowl. She poured water onto them and carried it around the stove to press it into Ardamon's hands. ‘You are distraught,' she told him gently. ‘Drink this. It will help clear your mind.'

Ardamon roused himself with a shudder and glared at Rhia as though he wanted to throw the bowl in her face, but he calmed himself with a deep breath and took it from her with a bow of his head.

‘Alright,' Cam said. ‘I've had all day to think this over and I think we can keep you safe, Sirri. We will cook for ourselves and Rhia and I can be food-tasters for you. With the four of us we can keep a watch through the night without going too short on sleep —'

‘No,' Sierra said, shaking her head. ‘It's not going to work.'

‘Sirri, we can do it. It won't be easy —'

‘No, we can't. Dremman will work out what we're doing, then what do you think he'll do next? The whole point of food-tasters is that they're
expendable
and have less value to the one they're protecting than they do to his enemies. He'll poison you both. It would be a death sentence.'

Cam sighed and bowed his head in defeat. ‘What do you suggest, then?'

‘I don't know,' Sierra said, raking her hands through her tangled hair. ‘Striking out on our own isn't feasible. We tried that and we failed.'

‘Agreed,' Cam said. ‘What other options are there?'

Sierra sat down on the spruce floor. She felt grimy and filthy and she wanted a bath, a hot meal, and hours of dreamless sleep in her furs. ‘What if … what if I reached an agreement with Rasten?'

‘That's out of the question!' Cam snapped.

‘Wait  — just hear me out. We need to get Isidro and Mira back. That's our first priority, isn't it?'

Cam hooked his thumbs into his belt and scowled. ‘Yes, but it won't change anything with Dremman and Kell. Our situation here will be the same.'

‘I realise that,' Sierra said. ‘I doubt there's anything that will change Dremman's view of me. I'm a threat to his clan's power, as the other mages were. He has to be rid of me. But if I do what Rasten wants and join him to destroy Kell … Well, that would change things. It would change everything.'

‘Forgive me for not understanding this brilliant plan,' Ardamon drawled. ‘Which, if I'm not mistaken, is the very same thing those men died this morning to prevent. But how in the Black Sun's name is turning you over to Rasten supposed to help Mira?'

‘I could make a deal with him,' Sierra said. ‘I could surrender in return for troops to wipe out the Slavers and Rasten's help against the Akharian mages. When Isidro and Mira are free I would turn myself in.' She was trying to maintain the appearance of calm but on the final words her voice cracked and betrayed her.

‘Sirri,' Cam said. She could feel his eyes upon her. ‘You told me you'd rather die than go back. You said you surrendered once and it was the worst decision you ever made.'

Tears were stinging her eyes. She tried her best not to let them spill. ‘It was the wrong decision then. But I can't sit back and watch the people I care about die. Not again.'

‘No,' Rhia said, breaking into the discussion for the first time. ‘Do not do this, Sierra. You would be choosing a life of slavery and I know what happens to a woman who is made a slave. There must be another way.'

‘But I don't know what else to do!' Sierra wailed. ‘I can't stay here and I can't go! What other choice is left to me?'

The very moment when the words left her mouth a possibility came to her. She felt herself go very still.

There
was
one other place she could go. A place where she would be beyond the reach of both Rasten and Dremman. A place where even Kell couldn't touch her.

She sensed rather than saw Cam looming over her. She was still frozen to the spot when he asked, ‘What is it?'

‘The Slavers,' she whispered. ‘The Akharians and their mages …'

‘What of them?' he said, puzzled, and then went still, just as she had. ‘The books. Vasant's books! Isidro's already found some of them. They would teach you what you need to know. You wouldn't need Rasten to guide you. You could go after Kell on your own terms.'

Sierra had no faith in her ability to learn from books alone. Studying Kell's book had taught her nothing. It was only once she had begun her lessons with Rasten that her abilities had grown. Isidro had suspected that the book was deliberately written to be confusing so an apprentice couldn't learn without his master's direction. Surely Vasant's books would be different. They were
meant
to pass the knowledge down, not hoard it like a miser.

‘What are you talking about?' Ardamon demanded.

‘I could let myself be captured by the Akharians,' Sierra said. ‘Neither Rasten nor Dremman could reach me in the Slavers' camp. If I can wipe out their mages it will go a long way towards evening the odds against your father's men.'

‘But isn't there a small matter you're forgetting?' Ardamon said. ‘The Akharians check their slaves for mage-talent. What makes you think you can get past their sentries?'

‘And what about your power?' Rhia said. ‘The life of a slave is a difficult one. There will be people suffering all around you. You already have trouble keeping your power in check and I promise you it will be much, much worse in there. And that is not all you must consider. You are young and beautiful. You will be raped, probably many times. I know this. I was a slave myself.'

Sierra nodded. ‘It's a possibility I know, but —'

‘A possibility? You're not taking this seriously —' Cam shouted.

‘Of course I am!' Sierra said. ‘But it's not exactly a new threat, is it? I lived with it for two years in Kell's dungeons. Every day I thought this would be the day Kell would let Rasten have me. And then there were the rituals …' She could feel the spruce beneath her but for a moment all she could see was the grey stone and the flickering shadows and all she could hear were sobs of pain, mingled with the tormentors' breathy grunts of sadistic pleasure.

Cam's voice startled her out of it. ‘You said they never touched you —'

‘Not
me
, not
my
flesh and blood, but everyone else who came into Kell's dungeons was given the treatment. I felt the echo, until the power
rose to drown it out …' When it did, she retreated into it willingly, grateful for the refuge.

‘Everyone?' Ardamon scoffed. ‘Every woman, you mean.'

‘No,' Sierra said. ‘
Everyone.
Rasten wants only women but Kell prefers men and Rasten does as he says. Kell likes pain and humiliation, whatever the flavour.'

‘You mean … Isidro —' Ardamon fell abruptly silent when Cam turned on him a glare so hard and vicious it turned Sierra cold.

‘As I said,' she broke the silence, ‘it's a possibility. But if I went back to Kell it would be a certainty. Among the Slavers I'll at least have a chance to defend myself.'

‘Without giving yourself away?' Cam's voice was calm but Sierra could see the tightness around his eyes that showed he was holding himself under rigid control. ‘How?'

‘I'm not sure,' Sierra said. ‘I … I'll need to talk to Rasten. If there's a way, he'll help me find it. He'd rather keep me for himself.'

Cam frowned at her. ‘Are you sure about this?'

‘I don't see any other choice.'

He sighed and bowed his head. ‘Alright, then,' he said. ‘Rhia, make a list. If we're seriously going to consider this, there are a number of things we need to decide.'

The new book still stank of the glue used in the bindings, but to Delphine it was almost a comfort, the scent of home. Fontaine wrinkled her nose, but Alameda didn't seem to care as she bent close to peer at the diagrams and the odd, unfamiliar script, while Harwin leafed through the pages. The scribes had been working day and night to copy the text from the steaming surface of the water and this was the first fruit of that harvest.

When Harwin lost interest in the incomprehensible text and signalled to Lucia to pour him a bowl of tea, Delphine decided her girls had been distracted enough. ‘Pass it to me, Alameda,' she said. ‘It's no good to you until you learn the letters, so you had best attend to your lessons.' Alameda pouted but didn't argue as she closed the heavy tome and handed it to her teacher.

The book was plain and hastily constructed, lacking even the most basic metal fittings to hold the enchantments protecting the pages from fire and mould. The stones had merely been pushed into crude pockets sewn to the leather covers. Back in Akhara they would be rebound with sturdier end-pieces, but now time was more important than presentation. As soon as the ink was dry on the last page the army would be on the move again, marching for the place known as Demon's Spire.

The days until then were an opportunity Delphine could not afford to waste. Torren still hadn't forgiven her for spiriting the slave away and he wasn't the only one working against her. The other academics resented her for swooping in and discovering the device while they had been occupied with the decoy caches. Noises were being made about the propriety of allowing a woman to work so closely with a barbarian male and some muttered that her investigations of Aleksar's peculiar manifestations of mage-talent were straying perilously close to the crime of teaching mage-craft to a slave.

The fact that it was she who had discovered the device had bought her some grace, but unless she quickly followed the discovery with some tangible results, those whisperers would win and she would lose possession of the slave. Delphine desperately needed every hour the scribes spent scribbling away in the dark.

With the heavy book in her arms Delphine turned to the rear of the tent, where Aleksar was tethered once again to one of Harwin's trunks. He sat in utter silence with his back pressed against the wood, his elbows propped on his knees and his head hanging low.

Delphine bit her lip. It was becoming harder to ignore his grief. Until that day in the caves he had merely been trying to survive, but now she suspected it had finally struck him that he would never see his loved ones and his kin again.

She ought to be able to dismiss his despair. He was a slave after all,  and she a free woman. A slave was a walking, talking tool, nothing  more. What he thought and felt should have been utterly irrelevant to her. She knew she ought not to concern herself with it, but she simply couldn't block it out any longer. There were few enough people in the world that she loved, and the idea of being stolen away without hope of ever seeing them again was enough to bring her half to tears.

Delphine perched on a corner of the chest and laid her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at her touch and lifted his head, craning it back to meet her gaze. ‘Madame?' he murmured.

His eyes were such a dark brown as to be almost black. Now that she had grown used to his barbarian features, the high cheekbones and the wide-set eyes with the epicanthal fold, Delphine was willing to concede he was quite handsome. Or at least he would be, if he ever smiled. Not that she could ever admit to such a thing.

She had tried ignoring his grief. She had tried jollying him along or badgering him out of it, but all to no avail. Now she knew there was nothing she could do but let it pass, although she could perhaps offer him some distraction in the meantime. She only hoped it would be enough to draw him out of his bleak despair. If she failed to make him produce the information the Collegium and the general demanded, he would be taken from her and she would no longer be able to protect him from the Battle-Mages and their interrogations.

‘Here,' she said and passed him the book. ‘Before we reach Demon's Spire we must compile a catalogue of the books from Milksprings. I will need you to read through this as best you can in the next day or so and then write a brief report of its contents before the scribes deliver the next one. There is a great deal of information to go through, Aleksar. You're about to take a very intensive course in Ricalani mage-craft.'

He looked so weary that for a moment she thought he would set the book aside, but then, almost with reluctance, he opened the cover and began leafing through the pages. After a long moment, the lure of knowledge drew him in as she had hoped. He sat up a little straighter and fumbled inside his shirt for the lantern-stone around his neck.

Delphine had work of her own awaiting her, but she stayed where she was and watched as he leafed through the pages. She ought to be studying the Ricalani syllabary she had made him write out, or working to find another translator, but she couldn't bring herself to do either, not if it meant that Aleksar would be free to face Torren's interrogations again. She didn't want to see him bruised and bloody from another session, or worse, broken down as he had been when she first saw him chained like a dog in the supply tent. He deserved better.

‘Don't sit up with it all night,' she told Aleksar and with a final pat of his shoulder she stood and stretched just as someone rang the bell on the ridge-pole outside. Hiding a yawn behind her hand, Lucia scrambled up to open the door.

‘Is Madame Castalior in this tent?' a man outside said. Delphine had been half afraid it would be Torren, but instead it was one of the general's functionaries.

‘I am she,' she said, heading to the door. ‘Who is asking for me?'

‘The general requests your attendance, madame,' the messenger said. ‘Along with your translator. The general has come into possession of a high-ranking captive and he wants your slave to question her.'

 

Isidro's worst fears were confirmed when he saw the bright red flash of Mira's hair.

At first he had been irrationally afraid it would be Sierra, but he knew that fear was absurd. She would never be foolish enough to allow herself to be taken by the Slavers. Still, he couldn't imagine how Mira
had been in a position to be captured — she ought to be miles away, safely ensconced within the Wolf Clan's army.

She was kneeling on the floor of the general's tent with her braids in disarray and her hands bound behind her back as she glared furiously at the spruce beneath her. She was dressed in a clanswoman's finery: a jacket with full, wide sleeves intricately decorated with layers of coloured fabric and a shirt woven with a fine pattern of coloured threads. Each of her braids was tipped with a golden bead and she wore wide bracelets on her wrists and a necklace at her throat. Isidro couldn't imagine why she would be dressed in such a manner out here in the war-torn north.

He tried to guard his expression, but Delphine was nothing if not observant. While they were still at the back of the crowd that had gathered in the general's tent she caught his arm and held him back. ‘Who is she?'

He warred for a moment over telling the truth. If he lied and said she was of no importance it would put Mira in a terrible position. A slave woman was free game to any man who wanted her and Mira's exotic looks meant she would catch many eyes. He couldn't subject her to that, not if there was anything he could do to prevent it. ‘She's heir to the Wolf Clan, the family that rules this region. I have no idea what she was doing out here, to be captured by your men.'

‘Really?' Delphine breathed, her eyes wide. ‘A tribal princess?'

‘I suppose so,' Isidro said. There was a cluster of men standing behind Mira. In the warmth of the tent they had stripped off their outer furs and the insignia on their uniforms were not the same as the ones he had grown familiar with. ‘Madame, may I ask, who are those men with her?'

She stood on her toes in an attempt to see them. ‘It looks as if they're from the Seventeenth! How interesting!'

‘Madame?'

‘The commander of the Seventeenth married the general's daughter. Actually, she ran off with him after the general promised her to a friend of his. It was an awful scandal and Boreas tried to have the marriage annulled, but they reached some sort of agreement in the end and now Druseus, that's the commander, must be trying to repair some bridges by sending such a valuable prize to his father-in-law. My, she's a pretty thing. Such a shame. She's a noblewoman, you say?'

Delphine had sidled around so she could see Mira in profile. As her voice came closer Mira glanced up furtively and her eyes fell on Isidro. She registered no surprise on seeing him, giving him a glare full of venom and disgust.

Delphine went very still and turned to him with a frown. ‘A noblewoman. Your nobles all speak Mesentreian, do they not?'

Isidro felt ill. Mira could translate from Ricalani to Mesentreian as well as he could. She wouldn't willingly help her captors, but the Akharians would have no hesitation in doling out the sort of treatment that would bend her to their will. If the rapes and beatings were enough to make her capitulate then
he
would be freed to face Torren's interrogations again.

Delphine grabbed his arm, her fingers clenching tight, and she pulled him down until she could whisper in his ear. ‘Don't mention a word of it,' she hissed. ‘I will not have you sent back to Torren to be tortured. And that girl — do you know her? You must do if you were noble-born yourself.'

Isidro held himself still, wondering if he dared trust her. It would give her something to hold over him, but what did that matter? She held near-total power over him anyway. He nodded his head, moving just a fraction of an inch.

‘Well,' she said. ‘I'll see what can be done to protect her, but I can't promise anything. Now, stand at my heel and don't speak unless you're spoken to.'

He fell into step behind her as she shoved her way through the crowd to the head of the tent to await the general.

When General Boreas finally arrived, he tramped through the entrance without bothering to stamp the snow from his boots. ‘Now then, what is this all about?'

‘A gift from Commander Druseus, sir,' the leader of the newcomers proffered. ‘This barbarian noblewoman was captured by his men this morning and he presents her to you with his compliments.'

‘Yes? And what exactly am I supposed to do with her?'

Isidro studied Mira's reactions while the men talked over her. The Akharian language was close kin to Mesentreian so she may have been able to pick out a word here and there but probably not enough to understand what was being said.

‘General, my slave tells me this woman is the daughter of a clan chieftain,' Delphine said, once the men from the Seventeenth had said their piece.

‘Really?' The general was a short, bullish man with a shaved head and a close cropped beard. He looked more like a labourer than a soldier, but his eyes were sharp and intelligent and Isidro had seen enough of the man to suspect he had earned his command. ‘Well, she looks the part, I suppose,' Boreas said. ‘What in the hells is she doing all the way out here?'

‘With your permission, sir, I will have the slave ask her.'

Boreas gave his assent with a wave and sat himself down in his fur-swathed chair.

Delphine motioned for Isidro to step forward. As a slave he was required to kneel before speaking to his superiors and at her gesture he sank to the ground beside Mira. In Ricalani, he said, ‘Lady, they want to know what you are doing out here and where you were going when you were captured.'

‘I'll tell you nothing, traitor,' Mira snapped and she spat in his face.

It happened so quickly Isidro didn't have time to flinch. The tent erupted with laughter as he wiped the spittle away with his sleeve.

‘Well, we need no translator for that,' Druseus's man said with a grin. ‘What do you think, sir? Is your cripple a match for a barbarian girl or should we give him a hand?'

‘Well, Madame Castalior?' Boreas said. ‘Is your servant up to the task?'

‘I suggest we let him get on with it, sir,' Delphine said, keeping her expression severe and unamused.

Isidro leaned towards Mira. ‘Don't be a fool,' he told her. ‘They'll get what they want one way or another. It's in your best interest to cooperate. Why were you out here in the north?'

‘Why don't you tell them yourself, traitor?' she hissed.

‘How would I know?' he said. ‘I was nothing but a destitute cripple sheltering in a temple,' he said. ‘I have no idea why a clanswoman would be out here in the wilderness. They want an explanation, but whatever you do don't let them know you speak Mesentreian.'

She closed her mouth with a snap and Isidro shoved down the urge to shake her. She'd had hours in which to come up with a story and he knew Mira was clever enough to know she ought to have one ready.

‘I was on a pilgrimage to prepare for my betrothal,' she said, grudgingly. ‘In the bad weather my escort must have travelled off course.'

He repeated her words to the general.

‘Betrothal?' Boreas said. ‘Isn't she a little old to be a bride?'

‘Sir?'

‘Ricalani girls marry later than Akharians do, sir,' Delphine broke in. ‘And it's not uncommon for the noble-born to hold out for an alliance that suits them. Does she come from a wealthy clan, Aleksar?'

‘Yes, madame, one of the wealthiest. Her family would pay a fine ransom for her return. More than she would fetch on the block in Akhara.'

Boreas chuckled. ‘I think you underestimate what Akharians will pay for a barbarian princess. What ransom could a Ricalani tribe possibly pay that would be valuable to civilised man?'

‘Furs, sir?' Isidro said. ‘I am told that sable and mink fetch a high price in Akhara. Her clan would pay you several hundred-weight of each. Then there's the matter of gold and jewels. The northern ground is rich with both. You could use her as a bargaining chip, too, to keep her clan from attacking your men. But she is worth more to them if she's untouched and in fair condition. They will not want to break the betrothal.'