Exile (34 page)

‘Ready?’ Frayvia asked, entering the chamber.

‘Uma sleeps?’

‘Worn out from too much fun. You’re wearing that?’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll be wearing a cloak and mask.’

‘At least let me do your hair.’

‘Nothing too fancy. I go out tonight as a simple sister, not an all-mother or the causare.’ Imoshen sat in front of the polished silver mirror.

‘Down in the Malaunje chambers, they’re talking of him,’ Frayvia said. ‘They say he saved five of his Malaunje crew at the risk of his own life. Only one other T’En escaped. They say he is more than fair.’

‘High praise indeed, from the Malaunje,’ Imoshen teased. ‘What do they say of me?’

Frayvia’s eyes gleamed. ‘They say nothing in front of me.’

‘What about behind your back, when they think you can’t hear?’

‘They say you are surprisingly fair.’

‘Is that good?’

Frayvia nodded. ‘There.’

She had threaded a crownlet of zircons through Imoshen’s hair and left the rest free down her back.

As she came to her feet, Imoshen’s hair fell like a cloak to her knees, but it was not really fashionable. To be truly elegant, her hair should be long enough to walk on. Imoshen grimaced. She’d always resented the time it took to dress her hair and the weight of the jewelled headdresses she had to wear.

Frayvia fetched a plain cloak and mask. As the devotee settled the material over her shoulders, she hugged Imoshen, revelling in the gift-readiness that came off her skin.

Imoshen did not mind; it was part of the bond between a T’En and their devotee. With a fond kiss, she left Frayvia and the sisterhood.

Choosing the right moment, she fell in with the happy crowd heading down to the free quarter, where lanterns hung from every post and doorway, casting a friendly glow. As Imoshen passed a lane, she heard eager laughter and sensed the urgency of passion unleashed by carnival licence.

The women, both Malaunje and T’En, who were looking for trysting partners wore the traditional pleated silken pants with no centre seam and a topless bodice. Most rouged their nipples, just as they painted their eyes and lips. Tonight, all wore their hair free, threaded with semi-precious stones.

The men looked just as fine, with their breeches slung low on their hips, their chests bare the better to display their scars, and their eyes and lips painted.

Music hung on the warm air; laughter, song, the scent of jasmine, delicious aromas drifted from the eateries – tonight sounded and smelled just like any other carnival night, but there was a feverish intensity. This was their last midsummer in the city before they sailed into danger.

Imoshen found the Sagora shop. Last winter cusp, the Sagoras had closed the shop at the end of trade and bolted the shutters, never dreaming they would not be back the next day.

The shop’s sign was the Sagora symbol: the scroll and the nib. They prized knowledge above all else, which was why Imoshen had approached them for sanctuary. Surely people who prized knowledge would not fear those who were different?

Imoshen slipped down the lane between the shops and into the tiny back yard. There was no sign of Ardonyx, but the door hung off one hinge.

She shifted the door, leaning it against the wall. A patch of moonlight revealed the glint of scattered silver coins, presumably left by a looter who’d been disturbed when the Mieren were routed. The small back room was a mass of overturned supplies.

Inside the shop it was darker still. Imoshen took a moment to gift-enhance her sight. This used to be her favourite shop and it distressed her to find the stock thrown about, scrolls in heaps and maps torn from the walls.

Opening her senses, she searched for Ardonyx, but there was no sign of him. No one had been here for a long time. The air felt still and flat, and everything she touched was covered in a layer of dust.

Unable to stay still, she paced towards the front door.

He would not come.

Now that she was causare, her stature far outstripped his. Most T’En men would resent this. What was worse, now that he’d sworn fealty to Kyredeon, his life would be forfeit if the all-father found out they’d made the deep-bond.

When she reached the shadows near the front door, she heard a shriek, then muffled laughter, from the street. She envied the revellers their light-hearted dalliance. It could never be like that for her. Where she gave her heart, she gave everything, and she’d never expected to find that same quality in a brotherhood warrior.

For them both it was all or nothing.

She leaned her forehead against the wooden door. Deception had allowed their love to flourish, and deception had kept it safe; and her second sacrare child had come from their union.

Did he know that their child thrived?

He wouldn’t come. It was too risky.

‘Imoshen?’

She spun around to see him silhouetted in the open door. Joy coursed through her body, rousing her gift.

He removed his mask, revealing a face both intense and intelligent, and beloved to her. ‘Imoshen?’

‘Here,’ she said and he strode towards her. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’

‘I know.’ He met her halfway. ‘I can’t stay.’

She cupped his face. ‘We have a sacrare daughter.’ Then she opened her link and memory-shared – precious moments, saved just for him. She let him feel Umaleni in her arms, a hot, slippery newborn, let him feel the tug on her nipple as the babe fed and the rush of milk hardened her breasts, let him feel her joy as Umaleni’s brilliant, mulberry eyes shone with intelligence, let him hear their child’s delighted laugh, let him experience her own glow of pride as Umaleni took her first steps unaided.

He gasped and almost staggered.

Imoshen moved to support him, but then it was him supporting her, him holding her close as they kissed. She tasted the salt of tears on his lips.

Tears stung her eyes. Her lips moved against his. ‘You cannot stay. It’s not safe.’

‘I know.’ His breath brushed her face.

Through their link, she felt how much he wanted her, and her body responded as something deep inside her clenched. His hands tightened on her waist. They were moving. She felt the door at her back. Shadows so deep they were like black velvet enveloped them. Lost in sensation, she welcomed the dark, the better to concentrate on touch. Her hands slid inside his breeches, felt the vibrant life and urgency in him.

Her knees trembled as he slipped his hand under her clothing to hold her. Then he was lifting her onto him, with the door at her back. She lost track of where she finished and he began. For a heartbeat it was a relief to feel him in her, and then that wasn’t enough. His ragged breathing delighted her. She knew her power over him, but it was a two-edged sword. She gasped, grasping his shoulders, and let down her gift-defences to ride his passion.

An eternity later but still far too soon, sanity returned. As she pressed her forehead to his, both gasped, both were elated and renewed. He let her gently down and her sandals touched the floor. She felt his seed slide down her thighs, slippery as hot silk. Still linked, she knew he felt the sensation and marvelled.

Her heart beat like a great drum, reverberating through her body, and her gift pulsed beneath her skin. He ran his hands over her, the lightest of touches on her flesh, revelling in her power.

‘Your brotherhood will sense me on your skin,’ she warned. ‘They’ll know you’ve been with a powerful T’En sister.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll overlay it with a brotherhood trysting.’

‘He’ll know. He’ll give us away.’

‘He’s never trysted with a T’En woman. It will happen so fast he won’t know what’s going on. I’ll be safe. We’ll be safe.’

‘We’ll never be safe, never be together...’ And to her horror, she burst into tears.

He laughed, hugging her, whispering nonsense.

Imoshen brushed his hands aside, fighting for control. Rebuilding her gift-defences, she shut down the intimate depth of their link. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say run away with me.’

‘There’s nowhere to run. There are Mieren everywhere,’ he said.

She caught his face, kissing him again. ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘So did I, more than once.’ He captured her hands, kissing her palms. ‘I can taste my gift on your skin. What’ll you do?’

‘Slip back into my chambers, bathe. And if that isn’t enough, gift-infuse my devotee before dawn. She’ll think herself lucky.’

He pressed his forehead to hers. ‘I must go. I’m being watched. Kyredeon doesn’t trust me.’

She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘We can’t see each other again. Not like this.’

He said nothing.

Imoshen bit her bottom lip. ‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you–’

‘Why did you become causare?’ Anger radiated from him as he gripped her shoulders. ‘It’s made you a target.’

Surprised by this sudden change of topic, she had no answer.

He released her. ‘The leaders of the great brotherhoods are all eyeing the causareship and plotting how to wrest it from you.’

‘I had no choice. We needed a causare to deal with King Charald the Oath-breaker. The all-mothers couldn’t bear the thought of our fate resting in the hands of a brotherhood leader. They thought I was the only all-mother with enough stature to win a vote and keep the all-fathers in line. I couldn’t say no.’

He pulled back a step. She felt his frustration and fear, even though their link was closed and they no longer touched.

She reached for him, trying to re-establish the link to siphon off some of his distress. ‘Don’t be–’

‘I’m not angry with you. It’s...’ He gestured towards the Mieren army, camped on the shore. ‘It’s them and it’s...’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Coming back to find Chariode and everyone dead...’ His voice broke. She would have hugged him, but he held her off. ‘The very last all-father I’d choose to serve is Kyredeon.’

‘I know. He’s dangerous.’

His expression was bleak.

‘If he’s dangerous, someone should challenge his leadership. You were on Chariode’s inner circle.’

‘Exactly. I’m new to the brotherhood, and the others don’t know me. Kyredeon has spies reporting on his own people. His hand-of-force is a thug who runs a pack of bullies. Everyone’s afraid to stand up to him.’

‘Is there no one the brothers would unite behind?’

‘No one of high enough stature. Not yet, anyway. And, from what I gather, Kyredeon gets rid of anyone who looks like a potential threat.’

Imoshen nodded, remembering the big warrior who died on the causeway. ‘I don’t like to think of you having to give your loyalty to him. He doesn’t deserve it.’

Ardonyx laughed and kissed her. ‘I must go.’

Since they’d made the deep-bond, the raedan aspect of her gift no longer worked on him. It had worked on her first bond-partner, but they’d both been so young. Ardonyx was an experienced adept with a powerful gift of his own. No wonder Kyredeon feared him. ‘I asked you once before, if what they said about the playwright Rutz was true. Could he imbue words with power and sway us without us realising?’

‘Rutz is dead, killed when the Mieren attacked.’

She grinned. ‘If Rutz is dead, you won’t be able to write any more plays.’

‘I doubt we’ll have time for plays in exile.’

‘If Rutz could imbue words with power, he could have swayed Kyredeon.’

‘If Rutz had that gift...’ Ardonyx shrugged. ‘He never did and he never wanted it. His friends and lovers would never know if he was swaying them with gift-imbued words. Forget it.’

Imoshen tried to recall the point she’d been leading up to. Something about... ‘The all-council. So far I’ve used my raedan gift to choose the right moment to call for a vote, and the all-fathers have voted the way I’d hoped. But even with the extra vote I get as causare, the all-fathers outnumber the all-mothers. We’re going into exile. It’s crucial I control the all-council meetings. If you took over Kyredeon’s brotherhood, I’d know I had one all-father vote I could count on.’

‘Even if I could take over the brotherhood, my vote would follow my conscience, not your lead.’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need your voice on the all-council. You’ve seen the world. I value your insights. I don’t want to put you in danger, but... I need to know there is one all-father I can rely on. Is there no way–’

‘There is one adept,’ Ardonyx admitted. ‘He escaped when the Mieren massacred his winery, and arrived in the city with his choice-brother and a dozen Malaunje. He’s the one who saved Chariode’s Malaunje women and children. About a dozen young initiates and adepts have gravitated to him. But Kyredeon crippled him, by provoking his choice-brother into–’

‘The big warrior who confronted the Mieren on the causeway?’

Ardonyx nodded. ‘Besides, Tobazim is too young. He’s only been an adept for a little over a year.’

‘I’m younger than him.’

‘You have stature. You’re a raedan. You executed Rohaayel and the brotherhoods’ best gift-warriors. Tobazim doesn’t have enough stature to get the numbers to challenge Kyredeon. And the all-father is just waiting for a chance to send him into danger, or accuse him of disloyalty and execute him. And when that happens, he’ll purge half the brotherhood, me included.’

‘Can you protect this Tobazim? Cultivate him?’

‘I’m going to have to, if we want to kill Kyredeon.’

Imoshen’s stomach cramped with fear for him. If the all-father knew they stood here, planning...

‘I hate it that you are in danger.’

He laughed. ‘You’re in more danger than me, causare. Kyredeon has been known to use assassins. Lucky for you, his best assassin went missing just before winter cusp. Otherwise, I don’t think you would have survived this long. He’d have sent Graelen after you.’

She wasn’t worried about herself. ‘I will never reveal that you are my bond-partner. If Kyredeon or any of the all-fathers move against me, don’t risk yourself for me. If I die, my sisterhood will raise our daughter, and my devotee adores her. It’s you I worry about. And Iraayel. Since All-father Chariode died, he has no brotherhood. I’ve made formal requests, but none of the all-fathers will take him, and he turns seventeen just before winter cusp. The sisterhood will declare him dead and send him out the gate the day he turns seventeen. With no brotherhood to protect him–’