North Star Guide Me Home (28 page)

‘My dear lady,’ Makaio said with a wave of his hand. ‘I understand perfectly, and of course my uncle will offer whatever assistance he can. Time is of the essence, and I fear the Akharians already have a head start.’

‘On that, I agree,’ Cam said.

‘There is one other point on which my uncle is most curious,’ Makaio said. ‘Now, all the world knows that the Akharians do not tolerate a talent for mage-craft amongst their slaves, and yet you’ve raised dozens of new mages. My advisors are confounded as to how the Slavers could have missed so many folk with the seed of power. I would be most grateful, your grace, if you could enlighten me.’

The faint smile dropped from Cam’s lips, and he turned to Isidro, raising one eyebrow. Isidro shrugged, and with a gesture indicated to Cam to go ahead.

‘Prince Makaio, I expect your informants have already learnt the basics of the matter,’ Cam said. ‘Every one of my folk knows of it, it’s no secret. A man of my people discovered the method.’

Makaio’s face had turned serious, too. ‘The man called Rasten. The old Blood-Mage’s apprentice. He is a subject of yours?’

Cam sighed and scrubbed a hand across his brow. ‘I have no Blood-Mages in my employ, your grace. I never have, and I never will. Ultimately, I suppose he is a subject, though I doubt he’d care to hear it. If I am the king, then he’s my responsibility, and I’ll have to deal with him eventually. Prince Makaio, I suggest that if you value the lives of your people, do not order them to approach him. That one is dangerous.’

Makaio considered his words carefully, but Isidro knew he wouldn’t abide by the advice. ‘I’m not the only one with informants. Some others are quite close by, I’d wager, given how the Akharians found us yesterday. I imagine they’ll not resort to diplomacy to learn what they wish to know. Are you not concerned they might take this man prisoner, and torture him to reveal his methods?’

Cam held his gaze. ‘No. Not in the slightest. They may try, but they won’t succeed. You must have folk watching him — they’ll see what comes of it soon enough. When it comes to the relics, Prince Makaio, I’m willing to share for our mutual benefit, and in thanks for the aid you’ve given me and mine, but I won’t give you Rasten. In the north, the greatest mages are known as Children of the Black Sun. They’re touched by the Gods, and more than just being a man or a woman, they’re forces of nature. To think you can control one is worse than madness, Prince Makaio. It’s suicide, as Kell discovered. I doubt you’ll heed my words, but I’ll say them, anyway — stay away from Rasten. You’d do yourself and your king less harm by welcoming a rabid tiger into your home. He’s my responsibility. Leave him to me.’

Bent double on the bench, or shuffling back and forth across the sunny courtyard, Delphine focused on her breathing, and waited. And waited.

The contractions kept coming, and the ache in her back was becoming unbearable, but still there was no sound of horses, no rumble of a wagon’s wheels. Delphine lost track of the waves that washed through her as she strained to hear them.

Beside her, Nikala was growing more and more tense, until at last she turned to the remaining guard. ‘Where are they? Has something gone wrong?’

The guardsman was looking worried, too. ‘They ought to be here by now. Commander Madric said he’d have folk standing by.’

‘Perhaps you should see what is taking so long?’ Nikala said.

The guard shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘My duty is to stay with Madame Delphine. You go.’

‘But … what if something befalls her? The king will not be pleased if she or the babe come to harm.’

‘Listen, southerner,’ the guard said. ‘I’ve seen babes born before. Nothing’s going to happen so quickly you can’t run up to the big house and back. I’m not leaving our lady unguarded.’

‘Nikala, he’s right,’ Delphine gasped. ‘You must go.’

Nikala scowled at her and the guard both, but then she bowed her head. ‘Very well, madame. I will be swift.’

She stole away, soft-soled boots quiet over the cobbles. Trying to rest her aching back, Delphine sat on the bench again, but that made things no better — if anything, it was worse. In an effort to find some comfort she squirmed around until she found herself kneeling on the ground, bent over with her head and shoulders resting on the sun-bleached wood.

‘My lady,’ the guard said, starting towards her with a crunch of boots on gravel.

Delphine twisted around to look at him. ‘Please wait by the gate. Keep watch.’

He bowed with a fist over his heart. ‘As you wish.’

She could relax a little with him gone — having a stranger stare at her when she was in such pain was deeply discomfiting, but now she just leant into the bench and drew deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

Something was wrong.

Each wave of contractions stole her breath away, making her head spin and turning her thoughts sluggish. She turned to her training. Novices spent long hours learning to keep breathing steadily through the most complex workings. She had to
think.

Nikala. Nikala should have foreseen this, she should have recognised labour coming on. Looking back, Delphine could see it herself: the radiating ache in her back and the contractions, which she’d first taken to be the same random and irregular events that had been plaguing her for weeks, finally falling into a pattern that she’d been too distracted to notice. But Nikala should have seen it. This was her profession, and she was no witless and distracted creature — she’d proven herself highly capable after helping other women with difficult and dangerous deliveries.

It didn’t make any sense.

Something else was bothering her. Delphine scowled to herself as she pressed her forehead against the smooth wood, tears wet on her cheeks and her breath sobbing in her throat. Something else …

In a flash, she saw it. The blank look the woman had given her when she asked about Ricalan. Nikala had been with them for months — had she truly never considered what would happen when the army set out for their lost home?

Bent over the bench, her cheek pressed against the smooth wood and breathing hard, Delphine bit her lip. Was she being ridiculous? Or was she being played?

It was very quiet. The guard was perfectly still at the gate, and there were no other people nearby. Here in the poor quarter there was nothing of value to loot. It seemed utterly deserted.

Alright,
she said to herself,
let’s look at the situation.
The Akharians had spies among the army, that was known. Some had been dealt with long before they came close to the inner circle, but there had to be some who’d succeeded. A woman like Nikala, a skilled midwife with the marks of slavery on her skin — who better to avoid suspicion? And truly, what was more likely: that someone with her experience would miss the signs of labour and bring Delphine by accident to an uninhabited region of the village, or that it was done deliberately? Or was she just being foolish? What were the chances that a timid, slightly built woman like Nikala would risk taking on a pair of armed guards, and a mage?

Delphine gritted her teeth and hauled herself up. ‘Hello, there,’ she called. ‘Guardsman?’

The soldier peered back around the gate. ‘Madame?’

All of a sudden she couldn’t bring herself to voice her suspicion. What if she was wrong? The poor woman would be ostracised. But what if she was right, and Nikala was an Akharian spy? If it was true, she wouldn’t be acting alone. She must have accomplices nearby. Perhaps that explained what had happened to the other guard.

‘I … I need some water,’ she told the guard, struggling to her feet.

‘I’m not leaving you alone, my lady,’ the guard said.

‘There must be a well somewhere. I can walk a little. Let’s see if we can find it.’

The guard shrugged, and nodded. ‘As you wish, my lady.’

She had to lean on his arm for support, and the two of them made a slow progress along the road into the village. After only a dozen paces, another contraction hit, but she forced herself to keep walking through it. By now, the guard was looking down at her with faint alarm. ‘My lady —’

‘Just keep going,’ she hissed, and ran her fingertips over the collection of stones tucked into her sash. Dipping into it, she found the one that Isidro had given her, and activated it with a touch. She might be wrong … but what if she wasn’t? He was too far away to help her, but if he saw it he could have the other mages send word to Madric. It might help. And after all, he’d asked her to tell him when the baby was coming. ‘Tell me …’ she gasped. ‘Nikala. What do you make of her?’

‘The midwife? I’ve heard good reports of her skill, my lady. Beyond that I couldn’t say. She doesn’t talk to men much. But then there are a few southerners like that, the shy ones.’

The guard seemed unconcerned. Perhaps she was being irrational. Perhaps the strain of going into labour when those closest to her were so far away was toying with her mind.

‘Ah,’ the guard said, ‘here we are, there’s a well just up ahead.’

It was a low wall of moss-covered rocks, topped with a thatch roof. There was another bench nearby, and the guard helped Delphine settle onto it before he strode over to winch up the bucket.

Another contraction made her moan in pain. It felt like a knife through her vitals, her belly turning as hard as rock. Delphine hissed through her teeth, trying to breathe through it and the guard paused in his work, turning to her with a frown.

Then, over her gasping breath and the thunder of blood in her ears, she heard a low, rumbling sound — the wheels of a wagon. Looking up, she saw it, an oilcloth-covered bed drawn by a single horse. The driver had a thick, dark beard and a shapeless cap pulled down low over his eyes, and perched beside him on the seat was Nikala, holding something in her hands.

Delphine’s breath caught in her throat, and she found her hand moving towards her sash. This wasn’t her wagon and that was no guardsman at the reins. She reached into the folds of cloth, found the largest of the stones and with a touch, woke it to life.

‘Guard!’ she called, trying to speak loudly and softly at the same time. Why hadn’t she asked the man’s name? She’d meant to, before a contraction distracted her and stole her breath. ‘Guardsman!’

He looked up at the sound, and then took a reeling step back. Of course. She’d disappeared, along with the bench she sat on, hidden by the camouflage enchantment. ‘Come here,’ she called. ‘Quickly! For the love of life —’

The wagon had come into view now. Nikala stood up, nudging the driver and handing him the contraption she carried. The driver snatched it from her and brought the thing to bear.

The guardsman started towards Delphine, confusion plain on his face, but he only made it three steps before he pitched over, a feathered shaft jutting from his back. With a horrible, strangled cry, he tried to push himself up, while Nikala halted the horse and the driver jumped down. He paused to haul the string of his crossbow back, and started forward again as he slapped a fresh bolt against the barrel.

Delphine gripped the stone so tightly that it bruised her palm. She got to her feet, and began to creep away, though her eyes never left the guardsman on the cobbles. His eyes searched the yard, glossing right over her, but his lips were moving. He knew she was there, somewhere.
My lady,
he silently said.
Run.

The driver raised the crossbow, taking aim. He squeezed the trigger, and with a
thunk
the guardsman’s head fell forward, driven into the cobbles with a bolt in the back of his skull.

With that, the driver turned back to the wagon.

Her stomach churning, Delphine swallowed hard. A spreading pool of blood was seeping from beneath the man’s body. She forced herself to turn away from it, and with a hand pressed to her belly, she walked away on shaking legs.

The Akharians were waiting in the village Makaio had named for the negotiations. Isidro was somewhat surprised to see them. Perhaps they truly were afraid of what Sierra would do if they refused to parley.

Isidro watched her from the corner of his eye. The prince’s pavilion had been set up again to house the negotiations. Sierra sat between Isidro and Cam with a bolt of power arcing through her hair. Another danced between her fingertips as she scored the surface of the table, giving off curling wisps of smoke. She kept her gaze on the Akharian leader, her eyes as cold and hard as ice.

Beside her, Cam leant back in his chair. ‘My demands are simple,’ he said. ‘Your people will withdraw from Ricalan. All prisoners will be released, and the goods and supplies you have looted will be relinquished. The stolen relics and artefacts will be returned, and all slaves taken from among my people will be released and provided with supplies and safe passage to their homeland. Your emperor will cease hostilities against the Ricalani people and their holdings, and will do nothing to interrupt our withdrawal from the empire together with whatever goods and supplies we wish to take. In return, I will cease my army’s southward advance, and withdraw from Akharian lands. Do you have any questions?’

The leader of the Akharians was a broad, fleshy fellow with a bushy beard that was mostly white but had a sprinkling of darker hairs. Above it, his face was turning steadily crimson. Cam spoke in clear but accented Akharian. Cam had learnt a great deal from Delphine over the last year, Isidro realised. Until then, he hadn’t known just how much.

‘No questions,’ the Akharian said through clenched teeth. ‘Your request is simple enough for a child to understand. But you must realise, northerner, that your words must be relayed to the emperor for due consideration.’

Cam waved a hand. ‘Of course. I don’t expect a mere functionary to give a decisive response. Go and send your message, but tell the emperor my patience is short. An army of this size requires a great deal of food, and I know there’s more to be had in the south.’

The man bowed his head, but beside him, a young officer leant forward, his face pale with fury. ‘This is all well and good, barbarian, but what reparations do you propose for the damage done by your army of thieves? Children are starving in Akhara and hard-working citizens are ruined by the theft of goods and property. What recompense do you offer the innocent souls whose only crime is the misfortune of falling in the path of your savages? You —’