Exile (50 page)

The Mieren went back to discussing what to do. He gathered the trader had been going to lead the party to take his family and collect the bounty. Ferret-face and his nephew finally volunteered to do it.

As the fisher-folk went to their cottages, the little ones settled under the blanket next to their mother. Aravelle cuddled up to Tamaron. Ronnyn lay down next to Vittor, thinking he would never sleep. The blanket wasn’t big enough to cover them all, so he made sure the others had enough. Vittor’s little back felt warm against this chest.

As they settled down to sleep in the cart, caged like beasts, Ronnyn’s throat grew tight and tears of anger stung his eyes.

T
OBAZIM WAITED WHILE
the Malaunje sailor delivered their evening meal. In this quiet moment, he caught himself listening tothe sounds of the ship and judging the sea by the lift and fall of the deck on the bay’s gentle swells. It was amazing how quickly he had come to know the ship, but then he’d had Ardonyx as his guide. Once they were aboard, Ardonyx seemed more settled and Tobazim suspected he was healing faster than he would have on land. The cabin boy, Toresel, poured wine for them both.

‘Ionnyn and Haromyr would have reached the city three days ago,’ Tobazim said. ‘What’s the soonest we can expect our people?’

‘Depends how quickly the causare can organise them. Depends on the roads.’ Ardonyx shrugged and winced. It had only been six days, and he tried not to laugh or cough. ‘I wish I’d been thinking more clearly when we sent the message.’

‘Why?’

‘The ships. One of Paragian’s seven-masted vessels has arrived but we’re...’ He broke off as they heard welcoming shouts and laughter. There was an edge to the laughter that Tobazim couldn’t place. He glanced to Ardonyx.

Toresel came running in, eyes wide. ‘Ionnyn and Haromyr are back. And there’s three sisterhood warriors with them.’

That explained the eager edge to the males’ laughter.

Tobazim stood as they entered. He was sure there was an obeisance for welcoming a sisterhood representative aboard a brotherhood ship, but he didn’t know what it was. He settled for an obeisance recognising their rank.

‘Hand-of-force Kiane, of Imoshen’s sisterhood,’ the first introduced herself. ‘We bring a message from the causare, and gold.’ She dropped the heavy saddle bags on the desk. Her two companions followed suit, as did Ionnyn and Haromyr.

When Kiane offered Tobazim the message, he gestured to Ardonyx. ‘This is the ship’s captain.’

Ardonyx accepted the message with a smile. ‘Let me guess,’ he said as he broke the seal. ‘The causare has anticipated the problem and... Yes, she’s sent gold to purchase ships to replace those that have been stolen or confiscated.’

‘Exactly,’ Kiane said. ‘She expects they’ll leave the city today or tomorrow, and hopes to be in port in seven to eight days.’

After the sisterhood warriors left to go to their ship, Tobazim sent Toresel for more food and two more chairs for Ionnyn and Haromyr.

‘Can we purchase more ships and stock them in that time?’ Tobazim asked.

‘We have to.’

They’d just sat down to eat when someone knocked at the cabin door.

Tobazim glanced to the door, then looked a question to Ardonyx.

‘I’m guessing one of All-father Tamaron’s people.’ Ardonyx put down his knife and raised his voice. ‘Come in.’

Lysarna entered, with Imokara. The young Malaunje woman’s black eye had healed, and she radiated determination.

The old woman made a deep obeisance, as did Imokara. They remained on their knees.

Tobazim caught Ardonyx’s eye. What now? They both came to their feet.

‘Speak, I will listen.’ As Ardonyx gave the formal response, Tobazim noted that he rested his hips on the desk, to help support himself.

Lysarna looked up, gaze fixed politely on Ardonyx’s chest. ‘Our all-father is far away and his brothers with him. Imokara is with child because of those Mieren. She doesn’t want to birth a Mieren baby, so she asks you bestow a gift-benediction on her.’

Tobazim glanced to Ardonyx. He had read of gift-benedictions. It was an old custom that had gone out of favour, due to the risk of accidentally imprinting the mother. It was believed gift-infusing the infant when it was in the early stages increased the likelihood of the child being born T’En. He hadn’t heard of it being done to increase the chance of the child being born Malaunje.

‘Me?’ Ardonyx asked.

Lysarna nodded. But Imokara’s gaze went to Tobazim and she did not look down. Her desperate eyes were insistent.

‘Why didn’t she take the women’s herb to prevent conception?’ Tobazim blurted, his face hot.

‘We were cut off, we ran out,’ Imokara said. ‘Do you think I wanted this?’

Lysarna raised an admonishing hand.

Imokara blushed. ‘Forgiveness, Adept Tobazim.’

‘She’s desperate,’ Lysarna told Ardonyx. ‘Even if the babe is born Malaunje, it will carry the essence of all the Mieren who raped her. This babe needs a gift-benediction to purify it. This is why we have come to you, even though you are not of our brotherhood.’

‘I’m not fit and won’t be for a while yet,’ Ardonyx said. ‘By then it may be too late.’

‘True,’ Lysarna agreed. Tobazim realised she had known this all along, but she had to approach Ardonyx first, as the higher-ranked. ‘The sooner Imokara lies with an adept and he performs the gift-benediction, the better chance the babe will be one of us and untainted.’

They both looked to Tobazim.

He backed up a step, aware of Ionnyn and Haromyr watching all this, clearly fascinated. ‘I’ve never–’

‘Would you condemn the child she carries?’ Lysarna asked.

He swallowed. ‘I... I’d have to walk a very fine line to imbue the babe with gift-essence while leaving Imokara untouched. If I failed...’ She would be his devotee, and All-father Tamaron would be within his rights to demand Tobazim’s execution for claiming one of his brotherhood’s Malaunje. If this happened, Tobazim was certain Kyredeon would not protect him.

At the same time, he felt his gift clamouring to express itself. He’d been keeping it reined in since they left the city. The small amount of repair work he’d done on the warehouse had roused his gift, rather than satisfied it.

He shook his head. Although his gift needed an outlet and this would be an exquisite use for it, the very urgency of its build up made him wary. ‘To be honest, I don’t know if I have the skill–’

‘I’ll advise you,’ Ardonyx offered.

‘Gift-benediction doesn’t always work.’

‘I didn’t ask for this, but now that the baby’s quickened, I won’t give it up,’ Imokara whispered fiercely. ‘It must work!’

Tobazim knew determination when he saw it. He cast a look of appeal to Ardonyx, and caught a lurking amusement in the captain’s eyes.

‘If you don’t like women, just say so,’ Ardonyx said. ‘There are other T’En who–’

‘I don’t want another,’ Imokara protested. ‘Adept Tobazim has the greatest power and stature.’ She lifted her face to him. ‘Even if you don’t like women, it is your duty–’

‘I like women. It’s just...’

Ardonyx beckoned him and he stepped closer, close enough to feel Ardonyx’s breath on his cheek, close enough for Ardonyx to sense the trouble he had controlling his gift.

The ship’s captain closed one hand over Tobazim’s forearm and siphoned off a little of his power, easing the pressure. Tobazim did not resent this familiarity. Ardonyx’s own reserves were still low.

‘You can do this,’ Ardonyx whispered. ‘When the time comes, open your gift so we can establish a temporary link. Then I’ll share your body and guide your gift, ready to rein it in if it slips your control.’

A rush of desire made Tobazim’s heart race. This was gift-working at a shield-brother level. The intimacy required great trust, and he was honoured by the offer.

Tobazim glanced to the two Malaunje women, one old, one young, both intimidating in their determination. In good conscience he could not refuse.

In truth he did not want to. Not at all.

Tobazim bowed his head to hide the urgency of desire, fed by his gift and his hunger for this intimacy with Ardonyx.

‘Are you up to this?’ Tobazim whispered.

‘I have to be, just as you have to be,’ Ardonyx said, then raised his voice to address the Malaunje. ‘Tobazim agrees. Is tonight too soon?’

‘No,’ Imokara said. ‘Tonight is good.’

‘Then go prepare yourself, while we purify ourselves.’

Tobazim waited until they left, then prowled across the cabin.

‘It will not be so bad,’ Ardonyx told him, his voice rich with dry humour.

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ Haromyr asked.

Ardonyx shook his head, then gestured to his meal, barely begun. ‘You can finish that off. I’m too nervous to eat.’

‘You’re nervous?’ Tobazim gave a bark of laughter.

Ardonyx grinned, then sobered. ‘We must cleanse our bodies and purify our minds. Run a bath, Toresel.’

The cabin boy ran off.

As Tobazim helped Ardonyx into the bathing chamber, Ardonyx said, ‘This will impress our brothers.’

‘I thought you weren’t eager for stature for its own sake.’

‘No, but I am eager for anything that will protect us from Kyredeon, and that means the respect of our fellow brothers.’

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I
MOSHEN HAD HARDLY
slept. She’d hoped to be ready to leave yesterday morning, but it had taken four full days to pack and load the wagons. Originally, they’d intended to make the journey to port in stages, returning with the empty wagons and carts to reload each time. Now that they were leaving all together, there weren’t enough wagons and carts. People had to leave behind things they’d intended to bring, among them priceless paintings and sculptures.

There’d been tears and drama. Unable to see the irony, Vittoryxe had berated her for placing people ahead of T’Enatuath heritage.

To appease her and others like her, Imoshen had wasted precious time and resources, allocating Malaunje to move objects into the crypts. Some of these entrances had since been sealed over. Others had always been secreted behind hidden catches. Down in those dry, dusty crypts, the heavy books and great artworks should be well-preserved.

For what?

It didn’t seem to matter to people like Vittoryxe, as long as the Mieren didn’t despoil their heritage.

Since before dawn, the T’Enatuath had been trudging out the gate, along the causeway and up the road that eventually led to port. Several of the brotherhoods had gone first, with the intention of forming a barrier around the sisterhoods.

Reoden’s sisterhood, with Prince Cedon hidden amongst the T’En children, was directly ahead of Imoshen’s and now it was their sisterhood’s turn to leave. Egrayne had taken the lead. Frayvia rode in the wagon with the T’En children, to watch over Umaleni.

Meanwhile, Iraayel and Saffazi kept Imoshen company as, one by one, the last few sisterhood carts prepared to leave.

A Malaunje servant waited with their horses.

‘Time to go?’ Saffazi said. She had been up since before dawn, but her eyes sparkled.

Imoshen smiled. ‘Time to go.’

But a Malaunje cart driver jumped down and ran over to her.

‘Gift-tutor Vittoryxe hasn’t come down yet,’ he reported. ‘I have all her treatises and scrolls packed.’

‘I’ll get her,’ Imoshen told him.

With a surge of annoyance, she strode into the palace, through the open doors
–
no point locking up – and across the grand foyer. Her boots echoed hollowly on the marble. Furniture and fittings stood waiting to be used, but the sisterhood’s palace was empty of people, and the mix of emotions of those departing left a dissonance on the air that her gift picked up.

At a run, Imoshen powered up the central stair, and along corridors that held almost thirteen years of memories for her. When she reached the sisterhood wing, she tapped on Vittoryxe’s door. No answer.

‘Gift-tutor?’

She opened the door. There was no sign of the two women or their travelling kits. Imoshen felt her gift surge as every chance encounter and confrontation with the gift-tutor played through her mind.

Vittoryxe wasn’t leaving. But Imoshen had to be sure, so she headed for the crypts.

As she went down the corridor towards the palace entrance, she heard singing, a male and female voice raised in solemn lament. The song broke off, ending in laughter, then silence. Curious, she crept to the top of the stairs to see Iraayel and Saffazi locked in a kiss of such intensity, the inner circle would have banished him from the sisterhood quarter.

But Imoshen took hope. Exile would force change upon her people. Some, like Vittoryxe, would not be able to face it. Others...

‘Iraayel,’ she called down, her voice echoing.

They broke apart, adjusting their clothing, tamping their gifts.

‘What if the gift-tutor had been with me?’ Imoshen admonished.

Iraayel and Saffazi exchanged a look. Somehow, they’d guessed.

Imoshen glided down the grand stair. ‘Light a lamp and come with me.’

Imoshen led them down into the passages below the palace. She passed arch after arch, searching for one in particular.

By light of the lamp, she tripped a hidden catch and the wall slid back to reveal a dark opening. Immediately, Imoshen smelt the faint, but distinctive scent of bitter almond candles, associated with death rituals. She knew what she would find. And, even though Vittoryxe had been a thorn in her side since she came to the sisterhood, Imoshen felt her loss as she descended the stairs.

Iraayel and Saffazi hesitated on the top step.

‘You should see this,’ she told them.

The crypts on the first level were broad and deep, with small ante-chambers, decorative carvings and elaborate stone sarcophagi. Stacked neatly along the walls were the art treasures of her people.

There were several levels of crypts with many connecting tunnels, but Imoshen knew Vittoryxe; she went to the mosaic chamber that depicted the history of their sisterhood. Sure enough, that was where she found the gift-tutor, and her devotee, under a glorified representation of the past.