Cry of the Newborn (38 page)

'It isn't that simple,' he said, echoing his father's words. 'Nothing in the Conquord is ever that simple. And it isn't just to watch you, remember, it's to protect you as well. The Order will hate you.'

'But why? We haven't done anything. And we aren't ever going to.'

Kovan shrugged. 'They won't see it like that.' He tried to smile but it wouldn't come. Gripping his courage tightly he placed a hand over hers and his heart sang when she did not try to move them. 'You've never seen the Order except Elsa Gueran, have you?'

She shook her head.

'Most of them aren't like her. They don't understand that it's God's will that you were born to be what you are. And they seek to destroy anything they don't understand.' Kovan squeezed her hands. He knew he'd scared her but he was happy. He was going to be able to say the words he had planned to say when he walked up here. Words that he was certain would win her heart. 'But I won't let anyone hurt you.
1
will always be there to protect you. Always.'

She beamed at him and moved her hands to hold his. He felt a thrill rush through him.

'Thank you, Kovan.' She got up and he with her. 'Now I really should work out this tree or Father Kessian will be annoyed with me.'

'How is he?' asked Kovan. 'Really, I mean.'

'He's old,' said Mirron and she swallowed. 'And he gets ill all the time. And though he tries to hide it, I think he struggles to breathe. But he won't let Ossacer examine him. One day soon he won't be there to guide us. I don't know how we're going to cope with that.'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It'll be hard for us all but you the most.'

She nodded and turned to face the tree. 'Shouldn't waste any more time.'

She placed her hands on the cracked bark and Kovan saw her jolt violently. She gasped and gripped the trunk tightly. Her eyes closed and she leaned her forehead against it, a low, pained moan escaping her lips.

'Mirron, are you all right?'

She didn't respond. She was shuddering and a line of dribble ran down her chin. Her teeth were grinding together. Kovan took a pace towards her and stopped, staring at her hands. The tips of her fingers were discoloured grey-brown like the bark. And as he watched, the colour moved up her fingers, rippling her skin. Veins in the backs of her hands swelled and pulsed, green mixed with the sick grey and brown.

Mirron cried out, an anguished squeal. She was trying to speak but was incoherent. Kovan didn't know what to do. He was transfixed by her hands which appeared cracked and split now as if extensions of the bark itself. He wanted to drag her away but wasn't sure if it would do more harm than good. And he wanted to shout at the tree that it was killing her while she tried to heal it.

'Mirron, pull away,' he said. 'Pull away.'

He moved closer and reached out a hand. He touched her shoulder. She jerked, her hands sprang from the tree and she fell into his arms. He clutched her gratefully and they sank to the floor together. She was breathing hard and he could feel her hands grasping his back and toga. Her heart thumped against him, the pulse rapid with her fear.

'It's all right,' he said, stroking her sweat-sodden hair. 'It's all right. I've got you.'

He glanced back at the tree. Where her hands had gripped the trunk, the bark was gone and he could see the shape of her hands as if she'd dipped them in paint and printed them on. And where her feet had been, the grass was long, some of it wilting and brown.

'What happened?' he asked. 'What happened?'

Mirron pulled back from him. Her body was shaking. She stared down at her hands as if they'd betrayed her. Nothing of the bark colour remained though the skin was wrinkled and dry. Aged.

'Mirron?'

She turned scared eyes to him and tears were starting to run down her face.

'Get Father Kessian,' she said. 'Get the Ascendants. Please hurry.' Kovan laid her on the ground in the shade of another, healthier tree and ran for Westfallen, shouting all the way.

Chapter 30

848th cycle of God, 2nd day of
Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

It was night and Kovan was still shaking. He'd tried to sleep a little that afternoon but the shock had settled on him and all he could see in his dreams was Mirron transformed by bark. Sometimes it was just her hands but in others she had leaves growing from her body and her face was sick wood.

The only thing he could do was talk about it but that seemed futile too. He'd been comforted by his mother and then accompanied by his father to the villa where Father Kessian and the Echelon had spoken with him at some length, trying to understand what had happened. At first they didn't believe him, thought it some adolescent fantasy. But when Mirron had managed to speak, they had all begun to panic.

Much of it had passed Kovan by in a haze but he had seen them scouring their books and breaking into hot debate and argument. They asked him over and over to make sure he hadn't left out any detail and he'd even had to sit by while an artist sketched his words.

Finally, they'd finished with him though it didn't seem to have solved anything. Mirron wasn't able to explain herself. She remained confused, apparently. Kovan had refused to leave the villa until Father Kessian said she was all right. And so it was late when the old man came to the library where Kovan was trying to distract himself with books. He rushed to his feet the moment the door opened.

Kessian shuffled in, leaning heavily on his two sticks and looking exhausted. He had a sickly pallor from a chest infection he was unable to shake off and his hands quivered as he tried to grip the

sticks. Genna Kessian walked in behind him. Her concern was for her husband, not Kovan.

'It was good of you to wait,' said Kessian, his voice quiet and full of phlegm. 'No need to get up.'

‘I
couldn't leave,' he said. 'How is she? Is she all right?'

'She's fine as far as we know,' said Kessian. 'Neither Ossacer nor Genna can find anything wrong with her.'

'Has she said more about what she felt, what happened?'

'This and that,' said Kessian. 'She's confused. Though it does seem certain that your touch halted whatever was going on. Now, whether that ends up being the right thing to have done or not, we don't know yet because we don't know if Mirron was genuinely in danger or not.'

'But she was in pain. I heard her,' said Kovan, shivering.
‘I
will always be able to hear that.'

Kessian smiled.
‘I
know, Kovan, and we were very lucky that you chose to go looking for her today. However, if there is one thing that our Ascendants have learned, it is that pain in their work is not always a danger sign. Sometimes it is shock as the body reacts and then adapts to something new. And perhaps that is what happened today. Only time will tell and Mirron can explain it all to us.'

'So have I done her more harm by touching her and stopping it happening?'

‘I
very much doubt it,' said Kessian. 'Now go back home and get some sleep. And remember this. You acted out of pure honour because you heard Mirron was in pain. And she is grateful to you. We all are. And you were there to come and get help. Most importantly, it meant Mirron was not alone when she went through this new experience, and there is no price you can put on that.'

Kovan smiled, comforted and was suddenly struck by how very tired he was. He felt small and fragile, not tall, strong and seventeen at all.

'Thank you, Father Kessian.'

'Come back and see Mirron tomorrow,' said Genna. 'I'm sure she'll want to see you.'

Kovan said his good nights, walked out of the library and headed across the colonnaded gardens. They were beautifully lit tonight, illuminating the fountains and flowers. Small lanterns at ground level highlighted the paths.

'Running off home now, are you?' came a voice from the gloom.

Kovan stopped and turned towards the sound. He could see a shape beyond the lights that was not part of the gardens.

'It's late, Gorian,' he said. 'Time I was in bed. And way past time little boys were asleep.'

Gorian walked into the light and onto the path in front of him.

'Couldn't leave her alone, could you?' he said, sauntering towards Kovan, his sandals whispering on the stone.

'What?' Kovan stared back. Gorian was as tall as him and would be a stronger man in a couple of years. But not yet.

'Do you think she went up there so you could be alone with her?' Gorian walked up to within a pace. 'She needs space and peace to understand herself and her work. We all do. We understood and respected that. Why didn't you? You just interfered.'

'She went through something none of you have experienced,' said Kovan. 'Father Kessian says it was lucky I was there.'

'Lucky?' scoffed Gorian. 'When you're in Westfallen we're lucky if you
aren't
hanging around like a cloud of dung flies. And what could you really do to help? You are not part of the Ascendancy. Why don't you just leave her alone? She went up the hill to the orchard to get away from you, don't you get it?'

Kovan did not blink. He knew it unnerved Gorian. It was a duellist's tactic. 'She could have asked me to leave. She did not. Perhaps she was trying to avoid you.'

That stung him, took the words from him. 'She doesn't need your interference. None of us do.'

'Then who do you think will protect the Ascendancy when my father is gone?' Kovan sneered at him. 'I will hold all of your futures.'

Gorian laughed. 'No you won't. God-look-upon-us, you have no idea, do you? And you're supposed to be the older, clever one. Don't you see, when Exchequer Jhered reports, we will be called to Estorr to see the Advocate. And while we're living in the palace, continuing our learning under the protection of the Advocacy itself, where will you be? Lying dead in some Tsardon field probably, having had to go to war to prove yourself a worthy Marshal Defender.'

Kovan couldn't find the words and Gorian ploughed on.

'Forget her,' he said. 'You can never have her. That is for others.' His smile was full of malice. 'That is for me, should I so choose.'

'She will make that choice,' said Kovan. 'And your arrogance will prove your undoing. She will care nothing for your tricks because she can perform them all herself. I offer her so much more.'

Gorian shook his head. 'I've told you before, it won't happen that way. You know something, Vasselis? There will come a time when I will be able to kill you with a touch or a whim of the elements under my control. Your fancy sword play won't help you then, will it?'

'Are you threatening me, Gorian?'

'What does it sound like?' It was Gorian's turn to sneer. 'In the end, your influence will stop at the borders of Caraduk whereas mine will reach to the heart of the Conquord.' He paused and his voice softened. 'Let it go, before it gets you hurt. There are people in this town I care about. Become the good Marshal Defender you are destined to be and look after them. Then perhaps we can be friends.'

Kovan was genuinely surprised by what he had heard. He watched Gorian for new signs of mockery but there were none. 'Only life isn't that simple, is it? And one thing you'll learn is that a Vasselis always shapes his own destiny. No one lays it down for him.'

'Then perhaps we won't be friends,' said Gorian.

Kovan shrugged and walked past him.
‘I
can live with that.'

Mirron awoke to a changed world. It was a while before she could put her finger on it. She knew she felt different when she went to sleep the evening before. Her fear had been replaced by an unsettling calm and she had slept undisturbed until the sun pouring through her open shutters brought her round.

She lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling which was reflecting sunlight off a pond outside her bedroom window. She could hear the sound of fountains and sense the heat of the day rising quickly. In the sky, she could feel the thrill of wind through the feathers of the birds that swooped over the ripening crops or gathered on the dockside.

Westfallen was busy, the market open and thriving. Vitality pulsed, though here and there the grey stain on her mind signified sickness of mind or darkness of mood. Right outside her window, the gardens grew strongly, their roots working down, swelling and building. The grand old beech tree in the far corner, though, that was dying. A disease was in its trunk, killing it from the inside while outside, a few curled leaves were the only visible evidence. It was exactly like the tree in the orchard yesterday—

Mirron shook her head violently, her heart pounding. She was hot and the fear was back. She tried to focus on the dancing reflections on her ceiling but she couldn't keep the outside from her head. Every time her mind slipped just a fraction, she felt or sensed - she wasn't sure which - the life beyond her window. She knew the strength and direction of the wind, she knew the state of the tide in the bay.

'Calm down, calm down,' she said to herself. 'It'll go away.'

She concentrated on her own breathing and pulse, using the relaxation exercises Hesther had shown them all in the early days before they emerged and the world was still closed to them. But all that happened was that her body spoke more loudly to her than it ever had before. She could feel the blood in every vein and artery, the movement of her bowels and the air in her lungs. And there was a crackling that she wasn't sure if she could hear or not. If she could hear it, it sounded like the growth of roots through the earth.

It didn't go away. She did manage to quieten her heart but the relaxation brought only stronger feelings across her, all vying for her attention. She couldn't shut it out. She felt the edges of panic on her skin. Her hands gripped the sheet below her and tightened into fists. The tree was suffering, the shrubs by it were healthy and reaching for the sun above and the water below. In the marketplace, not far from the villa, the crush of life threatened to overwhelm her completely.

'Mother!' she shouted, her voice cracking a little. 'Mother!' More of a wail this time though she hadn't meant it.

She didn't know if anyone would hear her but she didn't think she wanted to get out of bed to find out. She wasn't sure her legs would carry her despite the fact she knew with absolute certainty that there was nothing physically wrong with her.

'M—'

There were sandalled footsteps on the marble, getting louder. Mirron dragged in a huge breath and sighed it out, feeling the air energising her body. And she heard, if that was what it was, the roar in her lungs. The door opened and Gwythen Terol stood there. Her face was full of concern.

'What is it, darling? Are you all right?' She came into the bedroom and moved across the wooden floor onto the rugs by the bed. She sat on its edge and put a hand on Mirron's brow. 'You're hot, young lady. And a little flushed.' She frowned. 'Are you sickening?'

Mirron shook her head. 'I can't shut it out, Mother,' she said. 'It's in my head and it won't go away.'

'What do you mean?' Gwythen's frown deepened.

Mirron wasn't sure how to make her understand. Her mother's concern was in the heat of her body, the heightening of her pulse and the focusing of the energy trails that ran through her. She watched the trails for a moment, her mind automatically seeing them and comprehending them. Those she could shut away with a blink of the eye.

'The world is speaking to me,' she said, fighting for the right words. 'It's just there all around me and I can't make it stop.'

Gwythen got up. 'Hang on, Mirron, let me get Father Kessian. He needs to hear this.'

'Don't leave me,' said Mirron, tears behind her eyes.

'Shh shh. It's just for a moment. He's not far.'

Mirron watched her mother go. And when the door closed, the world shouted for her attention. She was helpless to stop her mind seeking out the roots of every feeling. She wasn't actually hearing it all, but the sensations expressed themselves to her as sounds. It was the only way she could make sense of them.

With every passing moment, it got louder. Insects flashed by, revealing themselves by a whine in her head. Their energy burned quickly, dying even as they sought life, such was the shortness of their span on the earth. And at the other end of the spectrum, the ponderous sensations of deep-rooted plants and trees.

'Leave me alone,' she said, her voice little more than a whimper. 'Please.'

But it just got worse. There was a low rumble that seemed to come from beneath her, the very movement of the earth. Crackling and snapping from all around her, the growth and death of leaf, bloom and root. Scratching and creeping, animals large and small in the ground below her, the air above and the gardens outside. And the hum, growing and growing, of the citizens of Westfallen.