Exile (32 page)

He jumped to his feet, eager to help. He grabbed the kettle and went to fill it, only to discover the water bucket was empty, so he took it outside to the rainwater barrel.

Ronnyn pulled himself up onto one elbow, then sat up, resting his back against the chest beside the hearth. ‘Vella, what’s wrong? Look at me.’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ But her gaze slid away from his.

‘I had to kill them.’

‘I know. It’s not that.’

‘Then what is it?’

She bit her bottom lip, sharp white teeth indenting the red curve.

Was she scared of him? He lifted his uninjured arm. His hand felt clumsy as he cupped her cheek. ‘I’d never hurt you.’

‘I know that. It’s just... I let that stink-badger get past me.’ She gulped back a sob and tears raced down her cheeks. ‘And it made a mess of your arm. You could be crippled for life because of me!’

And she sobbed as if her heart would break.

He pulled her down against his chest, felt the heat of her tears on his bare skin. With his good hand, he rubbed small circles on her back while she sobbed. It was not like Aravelle to let him comfort her, and he discovered he enjoyed it.

Too soon she pulled away, wiping her wet cheeks.

‘You still smell pretty bad,’ she said. Blowing her nose, she pushed damp hair from her red-rimmed eyes. This time, when she met his gaze, hers was determined. ‘I’ll work with you every day. I’ll massage the muscle. I’ll help you get the movement back in your fingers.’

He nodded. He didn’t really believe he’d be crippled. He’d get better, he always had. ‘And in the meantime, I can learn to use my right hand.’

Vittor came back. When he saw Aravelle’s tear-ravaged face, he put the bucket down and rushed over, demanding to know what was wrong.

‘Nothing.’ But fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

Vittor’s chin trembled and he shuddered as he drew in a breath. A sob escaped him.

‘Silly boy,’ Ronnyn said fondly, pulling him close.

As if this was a signal, Vittor succumbed to a storm of tears. Ronnyn smiled, as his little brother wept on his chest. He felt strong and powerful, protective. This must be what it felt like to be a man. ‘It’s over, and you were very brave.’

Aravelle put the kettle on. Soon the water was boiling merrily and the familiar smell of honey-tea filled the cottage. His injured arm throbbed with each beat of his heart, but Ronnyn felt good. He didn’t care what it cost him to protect the people he loved. And in that instant, he understood what had driven his father to kill the fisherman.

No price was too high to keep his family safe.

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
OBAZIM PATROLLED THE
ruined palace’s wall-walk. As the sun dipped towards the west, frustration drove his steps. It was midsummer’s eve, and over the next eight days, everyone would be celebrating, indulging in sanctioned trysting – and a fair amount of illicit trysting, from what he gathered.

But not him. The hand-of-force had done it again, sending the Malaunje warriors from the winery, along with the same dozen T’En adepts and initiates, to patrol the walls of both palaces. It was far more than they needed. Why, back when the city had first been attacked, he and Learon had...

The pain hit him, and the guilt.

He turned and gripped the stone, until he could control his gift.

Chariode’s palace came into focus. The exterior appeared fine, but inside it was ruined, like Kyredeon’s brotherhood.

The all-father had complained that he’d won Chariode’s brotherhood, but all he had to show for it was half a dozen young initiate warriors, a ruined palace, estates he would have to abandon, a missing shipping fleet, and over two dozen Malaunje non-combatants, who he had to shelter and feed, for which he blamed Tobazim.

But Tobazim didn’t care. He was glad he’d saved the women and children.

Now he understood why a high-ranking male like his old gift-tutor served out his days on a distant winery instead of taking his place in his brotherhood’s inner circle. His gift-tutor had chosen to banish himself. Sometimes exile was the best path.

The realisation surprised him.

Unfortunately for him, he no longer had the option of voluntary exile from Kyredeon’s palace. He was stuck in the city. What he needed was a shield-brother, someone at his back who he could trust with his life. Their gifts would augment each other, making them both more powerful. More power would protect them both from Kyredeon, but it would also attract his ire. It was a two-edged sword.

Taking a shield-brother was not something to be done lightly. It was for life. Sometimes when one died, the other died with him. And, as much as Tobazim needed to know there was someone he could place absolute trust in, he could not imagine binding just anyone to him. The bond of shield-brother, like the bond of devotee and T’En, was sacred and not to be entered into lightly.

All of which brought him back to this. He was alone in a brotherhood whose vindictive leaders had singled him out as a threat.

Just then Athlyn, Eryx and Haromyr joined him. Tobazim gestured to the free quarter, where they could hear singing and laughter.

‘If you associate with me, you’ll never rise in the brotherhood ranks. All you have to do is deny me and you could be taking part in the festivities.’

‘Tobazim...’ Athlyn whispered, hurt that he would even suggest it.

He could have kicked himself. If these brothers thought life impossible, they’d do something stupid and symbolic like Learon.

‘Just look at the city.’ Eryx gestured, changing the subject. ‘Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?’

Tobazim looked up. The white towers and domes climbed all the way to the sisterhoods’ palaces on the peak. Bathed in the setting sun’s rays, they appeared to be made of gold. No wonder King Charald and his barons wanted to capture the city. It was so perfect it took his breath away and made his gift stir. To build and create, that was his purpose.

‘I can’t believe we’re going to hand it over to the Mieren,’ Haromyr muttered.

‘We can build somewhere else,’ Tobazim said. ‘We can build a better city. A better T’Enatuath.’

‘That’s why we don’t deny you,’ Eryx said. ‘You give us hope.’

How could he, when he had none himself?

‘Tobazim?’ Maric called.

He crossed to the other side of the wall-walk.

The Malaunje warrior pointed across the lake, burnished by the setting sun. Tobazim sighted along Maric’s arm. He frowned. Was that a log coming this way? He narrowed his eyes against the glare. It was definitely being propelled by something.

‘What is it?’ Eryx asked.

The log continued to glide towards the city wall. It wasn’t heading just anywhere along the city wall, but specifically aiming for Chariode’s boat-house. When the log drew nearer, he spotted at least seven people hanging onto the side of it.

An arm signalled.

Tobazim waved back. ‘They’re probably from some distant estate and don’t know that we’ve reached an agreement with the Mieren king. If they’ve come here, to this section of wall...’ They would be from Chariode’s brotherhood, and they were in for a rude shock. He turned to the others. ‘Eryx, hold the wall. Athlyn and Haromyr, come with me.’

He led them down the steps, through the connecting courtyard to the boat-house. It was the longest day of the year and there was still enough light to see the lake beyond the grille, but inside the boat-house was dark.

Tobazim lit the lantern and swung the gate open.

The log edged closer until it bobbed gently against the city wall. One by one, the refugees let go and made their way in, past the moored barge to the steps, where Athlyn and Haromyr helped them out of the water.

Tobazim counted five Malaunje and two T’En. He didn’t recognise any of them. They all smelled of lakewater and looked exhausted, shivering in their wet, ragged clothing. One of the T’En was a big male, almost as tall as Learon, but the other T’En was their leader.

Tobazim swung the gate shut and bolted it, then came back to the steps. As he returned, the leader’s gaze swept over Tobazim, then Haromyr and Athlyn.

Clearly suspicious, he moved in front of his men. ‘Who are you? And what are you doing in All-father Chariode’s boat-house?’

Tobazim hesitated, but could think of no easy way to say this. ‘Kyredeon claimed Chariode’s brotherhood.’

The big adept bristled. ‘Impossible!’

But the older one looked shaken. ‘For that to be true, our all-father and most of his high-ranking brothers would have to be dead.’ He searched Tobazim’s face, reading the truth there, and his lean cheeks blanched. ‘Do any still live who can vouch for me? I’m ship’s captain Ardonyx, returned from a two-year voyage of exploration. This is Adept Ionnyn and five of my sailors.’

‘When the Mieren stormed the city, Chariode’s brotherhood bore the brunt of the initial attack. All the high-ranking T’En died–’

‘What of the women and children?’ one of the Malaunje asked. ‘Where are they? Surely the Mieren didn’t...’

‘They killed...’ Tobazim remembered the bodies and could not go on. He swallowed. ‘Around two dozen women and children were rescued off the roof.’

‘So few?’ the sailor whispered.

There was silence for a moment as they digested the news.

Then Athlyn asked, ‘Why did you come in by the lake, when you could have walked down the causeway?’

‘Walked down...’ Ardonyx’s voice grew thick with anger. ‘When we landed nine days ago, we didn’t know anything was wrong. We’d sailed as far as the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer, surviving both storm and shoal. The last thing we expected was to be attacked in our home port. There was no warning. They set one of my ships alight. While we were distracted, they cut us down. This’ – he gestured to the others – ‘is all that’s left of two ships’ crews. Since then, we’ve travelled by night, avoiding everyone. When we got to the lake, we saw the tents and realised the city was besieged, so of course we approached by stealth.’

‘You shouldn’t have been attacked in port,’ Tobazim said. ‘Since we’ve agreed to exile–’

‘Exile?’ Ionnyn repeated, shocked.

Ardonyx nodded to Tobazim. ‘Go on.’

‘Since we’ve agreed to exile, messengers can leave our city and refugees from the outlying estates are still trickling in. You would have been safe travelling on the road.’

‘I thought my ships were safe in the harbour.’

Tobazim conceded his point. Taking into account the weathering of sea life, Ardonyx was no more than ten years older than him, perhaps a little taller and of a slighter build. There was something faintly foreign about his manner, as if he’d been too long in strange lands.

‘Where are our women and children right now?’ the same Malaunje sailor asked. ‘I must know if my family survived.’

‘Of course.’ Tobazim sympathised. ‘Come this way. But first, I have to deliver you to the all-father.’

He led them out of the boat-house, through the ruined palace. When they saw the extent of the damage, they were shattered.

‘You said the Mieren came in through our brotherhood’s palace?’ Ardonyx walked beside him. ‘Surely someone heard the fighting. Why didn’t anyone come to our aid?’

‘It was winter’s cusp, a feast night. No one realised Chariode’s brotherhood was under attack until it was too late.’ Tobazim was ashamed to admit the truth.

He led them out onto the street, along to the entrance of Kyredeon’s brotherhood, where the courtyard was bright with lanterns. Laughter, music and song echoed down from the windows and balconies, contrasting with the sober attitude of Captain Ardonyx and his surviving crew.

Tobazim felt for Ardonyx. Not only had he lost his friends, men he had known since he joined the brotherhood at seventeen, but he would now lose his ranking and have to work his way up again. He must have been well-respected to lead a voyage of discovery.

‘You say the Mieren confiscated your ships?’

‘And my cargo. Exotic spices, never seen this far north before.’

‘What were they like, the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer?’

‘Bluer than a summer sky, warm and so shallow you could see our ships’ shadows on the white sands below us.’ Ardonyx spoke slowly at first, his voice gathering strength. ‘Strange creatures crawled on the seabed and fish swam in schools, darting about like beautiful birds. The sandy shores of the islands were so white they shone in the sun. And each island was crowned with tropical forest. There were palms, fruit growing wild for the taking, flowers larger than my hand across, and birds colourful as jewels.’

‘Sounds like paradise.’

‘It was. But everywhere we went there were Mieren. We were lucky, the islanders had never heard of Wyrds and were happy to trade. Both my ships’ holds were filled with spices more valuable than gold.’ His mouth tightened with anger. ‘Now the port Mieren will grow rich on the blood and sweat of my crew.’

‘What’re you doing here, Tobazim? You’re supposed to be on the wall.’ Kyredeon’s hand-of-force had been drinking, but not enough to make him amiable. It never was. He gestured to Ardonyx. ‘Who is this?’

‘Hand-of-force Oriemn. These are relics of Chariode’s brotherhood, returned from a voyage to the Lagoons of Perpetual Summer. They are all that survive of two ships’ crews.’

Oriemn frowned. ‘Bring them.’

Tobazim escorted the captain and his crew into the palace’s main courtyard. Lanterns illuminated two dozen Malaunje dancers, who scattered as Kyredeon’s hand-of-force dismissed them with a wave. The musicians faltered to a stop.

Marble statues gleamed, decorated with garlands of summer flowers. The flowers’ heady scents competed with the smell of seasoned roast pork cooking on spits. The city might be under siege, but they had not stinted on the feast. It was an all-father’s duty and honour to provide for his people.

The gathering fell silent as Oriemn knelt and reported to his all-father. Kyredeon lay on a couch with his voice-of-reason.

Oriemn rose and stepped to one side. Kyredeon beckoned Ardonyx, who approached, gave obeisance and then sank gracefully to his knees. Ionnyn followed two steps behind. The five Malaunje sailors also dropped to their knees.