The Second God (23 page)

Later, they fed us vegetable broth and venison stew with a fruity kind of bread, and a different type of
besh
to drink. Sho had long since lost his fear of us, and now he plied Ly with questions about what to expect. He was fascinated by the transition of Ly’s magic, and wanted to know every detail of our blood-bonding.

Later still, they flicked aside a curtain to reveal a bed, and fussed around finding stuffing for a mattress and blankets.

“It’s not what you’re used to, I expect,” Sho said. “In Bennamore everyone wears silk and eats from gold plates, I hear.”

Ly smiled at him. “I like a simpler life. This will be fine.”

Then we pulled the curtain across the alcove and curled up together on the lumpy mattress, listening to the last few rumbles of the storm, and the whispers of Sho and Jes in the matching alcove further down the room. I touched Arran and Ly in my mind, and found them calm and unworried. Before long, they were both asleep. Further afield, the eagles had settled down contentedly for the night, too.

I was the only one uneasy, it seemed. In some ways, our journey here had been a success. We had found Sho-heest, we had survived his misguided attack on us and perhaps we had reached an accommodation. Yet he was still
byan shar
, still destined to be a war leader, and we were no nearer understanding what under the moon and stars was the purpose of a second god.

And then there was Jes. On the surface she seemed a pleasant enough young woman who would make Sho an excellent wife. And yet there was something in her unsmiling face that unsettled me. Long after the cottage had fallen into silence, I lay awake, wondering what surprises the morning would bring.

I was the last to wake the next morning. Ly was outside, although not far away. The eagles were circling lazily directly above us, and two more had joined them. Beyond the curtain, someone was shifting pots about on the range. And Arran was sitting at my feet, smiling at me.

“Good morning, sleepy.”

“Good morning! Is it late?” I rolled upright to prop myself against the wall next to him.

“You have not missed a meal, if that is your worry.” At his side the sheathed knife lay, and his sword was at the far end of the bed. It was years since he’d been a bodyguard, but he’d never lost his watchfulness, and it had saved my life more than once.

I snuggled next to him, wrapping an arm round his waist. Then, remembering the odd events of the previous afternoon, I slid his shirt aside to look at the scar left by the Icthari assassin’s knife. It was no more than a thin white line now, running from just above his heart across his shoulder and onto his upper arm. I ran one finger along its length.

“You can’t have had this protection thing before, or you wouldn’t have been injured at all.”

A long silence. “I am not sure. Ly said it would have been much weaker before, so perhaps it just prevented serious injury? The Icthari was aiming for my heart, you know. He had me beaten, my sword useless, chest exposed and wearing nothing but my nightshirt. His knife was aimed directly for my heart and yet… I did not die. It was a very shallow cut, in the end, as if the knife was deflected and just slid over my skin. At the time, I simply thought I was lucky – perhaps his aim was not true, or I moved back just enough to avoid the worst of it, and it happened so fast I could never be sure. But it makes sense. I have
always
been lucky with injuries.”

“Surely that is skill, not luck?” I said.

He chuckled. “Naturally I would like to think so! I
do
have some skill, I believe. But there have been times… Once when I was a boy, my cousins and I found my uncle’s sword lying around. I have no idea why he had not put it away safely as he usually did. Anyway, I drew the blade from its scabbard, just to test it, to feel the weight of it. One of my cousins said, “Is it sharp?” So I ran my thumb along the edge, and it seemed blunt to me. Not so much as a small cut. So I said, “No, not sharp at all.” And my cousin tried it and nearly cut his finger off. Everyone was angry with me, assuming I had lied to make mischief. But I told the exact truth. To me, the blade was blunt. And I think now, looking back on it, that I had some protection, even then.”

“It’s quite a useful thing to have,” I said.

“Yes!” he said, face alight with enthusiasm. “It makes us – invincible! What that lion did to you – no one could survive such a thing, not normally. Imagine if we could call upon such protection whenever we needed it. We could go into battle knowing that nothing could harm us. Think what we could achieve!”

“It’s not much use if we lose all outward feeling.”

He deflated at once. “No. That is a problem. But perhaps we can learn to harness it. All these strange connections have to be learned, so maybe, in time, we can employ the protective shell while still fighting. That would be so amazing!”

I wasn’t quite so enthusiastic at the prospect, but it would be worth experimenting.

Jes produced a thick fish porridge for our morning meal, and Ly had contributed mushrooms, some eggs and a bowl of black, juicy berries. Sho was subdued, in contrast to his ebullience the previous night, and his mood infected us all. We ate in silence.

When Jes and Arran disappeared into one of the side rooms to clean the bowls and pots, Ly said, “We have not yet talked of your plans, Sho.”

Suddenly the terror was back on his face. He licked his lips, then glanced behind in the direction Jes had gone, as if hoping she would reappear. “My plans?”

“Yes. Now that you know more of what’s in store for you if you pursue the traditional path, I hope you’ll think again. It’s not a predetermined destiny. You have a choice.”

Sho was silent. Again he looked over his shoulder, and as if she’d been summoned, Jes was there.

“I heard voices,” she said smoothly. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” Ly said, his eyes narrowing as she crossed the room and slid onto the bench beside Sho. “I was asking Sho what his plans might be.”

“His mother wishes him to follow the ways of the ancestors,” she said.

“So fifteen years of breeding?” Ly snapped. “A whole generation of babies capable of bonding with a lethal war-beast from birth, but
not
capable of controlling them? So many deaths, so many injuries, so much tragedy. And then, what else to do with such an army but go to war, against neighbours who never did you any harm? Is that what the ancestors wished for us? You’re his wife, it’s for
you
to advise him.”

“What do you think he should do?” she said calmly, as Sho looked helplessly from one to the other.

“Nothing, of course. There is an alternative. He could take the road of peace, and become a wise and great leader.”

“Like you, I suppose,” Sho said, with a hint of his old spirit, but Jes laid a hand on his arm.

“What do
you
want, Ly?” she said. Outwardly she seemed perfectly calm, but I’d have given a great deal to see her real emotions.

“I want to go back to Bennamore and live out my years peaceably with my wife and my brother of the heart,” he said quietly. “That’s what I would like to do, more than anything. The Clans have lived without a
byan shar
for hundreds of years at a time, so I know they’d manage perfectly well without me. But I won’t abandon my people, and I won’t allow you to take them to war.”

There was a long silence, then Sho nodded. “I have no desire for war either.” He paused, chewing his lip. “You may go back to Bennamore and be a king there and enjoy your gold plates.” Another pause. “I will stay here and follow the road of peace. You should…” He threw Jes a fleeting glance, then took a deep breath. “You should give me the key. You will not need it in Bennamore.”

Ly jumped to his feet, his stool falling back with a crash. “The key is mine!
I
am
byan shar
– the first
byan shar
, and it was given to me as a sign from the gods.”

Sho was on his feet too, his hands raised placatingly. “Of course, of course! I’m sorry, I meant nothing by it, except that… well, never mind. Keep it.”

“I want your word, sworn to the gods and ancestors, that you will not bring war to Bennamore.”

A long silence as they stared each other down. It was Sho who looked away first. “Of course.”

“Swear it!”

“I swear… I swear by all the gods and ancestors that I will not make war on Bennamore.”

“And the rest.”

Sho hung his head and muttered, “And may they strike me down if I lie.”

Ly nodded, satisfied. “Good. We will go now. I hope we never have cause to meet again.”

~~~~~

Diamond was flying hard and fast. Kalmander had no trouble keeping up, but poor Sunshine struggled and gradually fell behind. Low cloud brought a fine drizzle with it, so I was soon soaked to the skin, and miserable with it. I wasn’t quite sure what had got into Ly, to push ahead so fast. It wasn’t like him to get angry like this, and I didn’t understand the business with the key at all.

After a while, the cloud was so thick that the others were invisible to me. I could still see them in my mind, though, flying far ahead of me. All I had to do was follow. Besides, I guessed where we were going – to Ly’s island, his retreat in times of stress.

When I landed on the little beach, Ly had gone. The two larger eagles clicked their beaks at me in greeting, and Diamond emitted little chirps of happiness. And Arran was there, waiting for me.

“What’s got into him?” I said.

A shrug. “I daresay he will tell us if he wants us to know. It is an odd thing, Drina, but the more I learn about the Blood Clans, the more I realise I know nothing at all about them and understand even less. That business with Sho-heest just now – I felt there were undercurrents there that I could not read at all. And the key? What is that about?”

“I have no idea. Let’s get out of this rain. I hope Ly’s got the fire going. I’m frozen.”

But by the time we got to the house, Ly had vanished, and was already some distance away. Arran set to work with tinder and firestones, and to my relief everything was dry enough to catch at once. We rummaged round for a pot and I remembered the little stream nearby, and went to fetch water to heat for a brew. Then we settled down to dry out and wait for Ly to come back.

Even while he was gone, we could connect to his mind, and see that his anger had all but dissipated within an hour or so. Gradually, calmness seeped back into him, and then a kind of quiet pleasure. Looking through his eyes, we saw him picking herbs, calling rodents, and collecting berries and a honeycomb. Then he went fishing. When he returned, laden with food, he was himself again.

He said nothing, throwing us a little smile, which I took as a kind of apology. Then he began preparing a meal. He was always so intent when he was cooking, utterly absorbed in trimming and chopping and stuffing, sitting in his customary position, with one leg bent under him, the other upright. Arran and I sat on the low wall watching him work, hand in hand, wrapped in the peacefulness of the island, contented. Then we ate. It was simple fare, for there were no supplies at the house now that Ly no longer spent time there, but it was delicious.

The first time I’d stayed at Ly’s island, I’d thought it would be a perfect place to live if only I had Arran and my books. Half my wish had come true, and I honestly felt no yearning for the other half. Books were all very well, but they were an artificial world. I daresay I’d used them as a way to escape the miseries of my life – my illness as a child, and then the pressures of Yannassia’s court and trying to live up to her expectations. That afternoon, I needed nothing. I had my
clavaia
, my nest, and that was enough.

Only after we had finished eating and everything was washed and tidied away did Ly start to talk. “You must have questions,” he said. “Ask whatever you wish.”

“What is the key?” Arran said at once.

“This.” Ly indicated the amber pendant at his throat. “It absorbs my magic, and then someone without magic can use it to open the door to the scribery. It does other things, too – it amplifies the summoning, for instance, so it is easier to call the war-beasts when needed.”

“Then Sho wanted the key to start a war?” Arran said.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. He does not
need
the pendant to wage war, but it enhances his power.”

“He doesn’t need the key, but he wanted it anyway,” I said. “It’s more symbolic, then. It would make him more important than you.”

“Yes, exactly! He would be the leader of the Blood Clans, not me. It was a direct challenge to my position, and very foolish of him. He had been quite convincing until then.”

“Convincing?” Arran said, frowning. “I do not understand.”

“In being subservient,” I said. “He started off quite aggressively, until you dispatched his pet lion. Then, all of a sudden, he’s the perfect image of friendly junior
byan shar
, oh so open and chatty. And then, when he thinks he’s softened Ly up enough, he asks for the necklace. Big mistake.”

Arran was filled with surprise. “Oh. I never noticed that. So this oath he swore – that means nothing to him?”

“It should do,” Ly said. “But the gods may not hold him to it if they consider it unreasonable, or circumstances change. Also, even if he abides by it, it means little. He could start a war against the Icthari, for instance, and then Bennamore would be dragged into it regardless.”

I huffed a breath. “Then what’s the point of it, if it’s so fluid?”

Ly smiled. “It was a test. I thought he would refuse, actually. At least we know now that he is not to be trusted, and we know his mother’s intentions for him.”

“It’s not his mother who worries me,” I said. “It’s the woman. His wife.”

“Jes?” Ly said. “She seemed harmless enough. Devoted to him, I would have said. She cannot have much influence on him – she is nobody in the Clans, with only a connection to hazelnuts. That is as low as it gets.”

“So she
says
,” I snapped. “Surely you’ve learned something from your time in Kingswell? First rule of diplomacy, assume everyone lies, all the time. She is not bonded, or we could have seen into her mind, but she has a great deal of influence, and we have no idea what she wants Sho to do, none at all.”

“She seemed a quiet little thing to me, timid and inoffensive,” Arran said. “But your instincts are very well honed. What in particular makes you suspect her?”

“Timid? No, there was a confidence about her. But otherwise…” I thought back. What had made me wonder about Jes? “One odd thing… the way he kept stopping when he talked. A sentence… pause… another sentence… another pause. It was as if he was having a mental conversation with her, as if she was telling him what to say. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?”