Sanctuary (46 page)

‘Every now and then they unite under a charismatic leader to claim a prize worthy of cooperation.’

‘And we’re that prize?’

Ardonyx nodded. ‘With their numbers, they’ll overrun us like a plague of rats.’

It was what Tobazim had feared. ‘Then they’ll attack before we can make Ivernia. What can we do?’

‘We’re already doing everything we can.’ Ardonyx gestured to the fleet. ‘Sailing in tight formation with the ships lit up at night and the decks patrolled by armed warriors.’ He lifted the spy-glass to study the sails, then lowered it, looking grim. ‘They’ve gained on us overnight.’

‘Can we outrun them?’

‘We can’t abandon the slow merchant ships, and sea-vermin ships are built for speed. Also’ – he gestured to the slack sails – ‘we’ve been plagued with poor winds since we set sail.’

A
S SOON AS
breakfast arrived, Ronnyn slipped out of the empowered lads’ cabin into the all-mother’s chamber. There he found the children eating their porridge. Vittor and Tamaron were delighted to see him and, after a moment, he wandered over to his choice-mother, who was feeding his baby brother.

She patted the bunk. ‘Come to make sure I’m looking after your brothers properly?

He flushed as he sat down. ‘I’ve come because I’m troubled. There’s something I should tell you, but it means betraying a confidence.’

When she met his eyes, he glanced to the hidden chamber, where they used to keep Sardeon.

The healer nodded her understanding. ‘You may speak freely. I won’t reveal it was you who told me.’

Sardeon would know it was him, but he had to betray Sardeon’s confidence, or betray his own judgement. ‘Last night, Sardeon’s gift manifested while he was asleep.’

‘Really?’ Delight illuminated her face. Then she sobered. ‘He told you everything?’

Ronnyn nodded, then frowned. ‘How can I know if he told me everything?’

‘Oh, Ronnyn...’ Reoden laughed softly, and kissed his forehead. ‘I’m so pleased. He trusts you. The causare brought him back from the higher plane, but you’ve brought him back to life.’

Ronnyn shrugged this aside. ‘Afterwards, he tried to call his gift, but he couldn’t. He said he didn’t want to tell you until he could control it. But I’m telling you now, because he drew us both onto the empyrean plane.’

‘Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?’

‘I was awake when it happened. We escaped this time, but what if...’ Ronnyn broke off as Sardeon opened the cabin door and spotted him with their choice-mother.

Furious, Sardeon picked his way through the children.

Heart pounding, Ronnyn came to his feet and waited for his choice-brother to join them.

Despite his anger, Sardeon gave his obeisance before speaking. Ronnyn found his control more unnerving than any outburst.

‘Choice-mother, I –’

‘Before you tear strips off Ronnyn, let me say this, Sardeon,’ Reoden said. ‘You should have come to me yourself. Gift-wright Ceriane spoke of just this possibility.’

‘She did?’

Their choice-mother nodded, then raised her voice. ‘Sarodyti, come here.’

The sisterhood’s gift-tutor picked her way through the children, who chattered on oblivious.

‘Sar’s gift has regenerated, but he can’t call it,’ Reoden said. ‘What do you think?’

‘He always had exceptional control,’ Sarodyti said. ‘That could be the problem.’

‘I’m not trying to stop myself calling my gift,’ Sardeon said. ‘I want it back.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ the gift-tutor agreed. ‘But until you forgive yourself for Lyronyxe’s death...’

Sardeon flinched.

Ronnyn saw the two adults share a look.

‘Don’t worry.’ The healer reached out to take Sardeon’s hand. ‘This is the first step in a long road. You were lucky to survive the empyrean plane that first time. You were only twelve, with no training.’

Sardeon shook his head, refusing to accept excuses. Ronnyn felt the force of his choice-brother’s will. The gift-tutor was right; Sardeon’s own will was what was stopping him.

‘Ronnyn tells me you segued to the higher plane in your sleep,’ Reoden said. ‘That’s dangerous, Sar. You must resume your lessons with Sarodyti.’

Reoden finished feeding baby Ashmyr and passed him to her devotee. After fastening her bodice, the healer came to her feet and bestowed a kiss on Sardeon’s forehead, then Ronnyn’s. ‘Now, you two go eat before the empowered lads clean up everything. With any luck, we’ll be holding a double empowerment, soon.’

Sardeon glanced to Ronnyn, who knew this was his chance to reveal the truth about his gift, but fear froze him. What if it had burned out?

He gave his obeisance. ‘Thank you, choice-mother.’

‘So formal, Ronnyn?’ Reoden laughed. ‘Sardeon must be rubbing off on you.’

His choice-brother closed his mouth and said nothing.

As they headed for the door, Ronnyn’s face burned. He hated lying, even if it was a lie of omission. He was almost at the door when Sarodyti called him, dismissing Sardeon.

Ronnyn worked his way back through the chattering children to rejoin the gift-tutor.

‘You’re a good boy, Ronnyn. Watch over Sardeon. He’s like a bow that’s been strung too tight. He could snap.’

Ronnyn nodded. ‘Can the gift die?’

‘We’ll cover gift lore when you begin training.’ Seeing his expression, she sighed. ‘If the T’En’s mind or heart becomes corrupted, the gift can corrupt.’

‘Can it wear out?’

‘With age.’ One of the children tripped and began to cry. Sarodyti made as if to go to him, but her shield-sister picked him up and consoled him.

‘Can it burn out?’ Ronnyn asked. ‘Like a fire?’

‘You’re describing a flare-out. That’s when the gift flares up and consumes itself. Sometimes the spark is entirely extinguished, and sometimes it regenerates.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose the empowered lads have told you that all-fathers sometimes punish a follower by draining his gift, then handing him over to his brothers for their use? Without his gift, he can’t resist theirs.’

He schooled his face to hide his surprise.

‘Don’t worry. These are extreme cases. We’re a civilised people, who live by a code of conduct. We aren’t beasts!’

The more she said, the more he worried. Without his gift, he’d be a victim.

‘We’ll cover all this and more when your gift manifests and you’re empowered. Off you go.’

He stumbled to the door, consumed with worry.

The night Aravelle and his mother were raped, he’d felt his power move across his skin like a thousand stinging ants. His gift had suffered a flare-out. He was useless. Crippled arm. Crippled gift.

‘Ronnyn?’ Sardeon’s hand settled on his shoulder.

He found himself standing in the passage.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sardeon asked.

‘Leave me alone.’ Ronnyn brushed past.

Sardeon came after him. ‘What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell our choice-mother about your gift?’

Frustration burned in Ronnyn. Back when he didn’t want his gift, it had surfaced and caused him no end of trouble.

Now...

Now he felt as if something precious had been stolen, before he could begin to truly explore it.

‘Tell me,’ Sardeon ordered. ‘I told you about Lyronyxe. I loved her, and seeing her die nearly killed me.’

Ronnyn swallowed and met his eyes. ‘My gift’s gone dormant. It hasn’t manifested since the night my sister and mother were raped and I couldn’t save them.’

Sardeon went pale. ‘Your gift will regenerate. Mine did.’

‘After nearly five years!’

‘I was dragged onto the higher plane.’ Sardeon shuddered. ‘You’ll come good. Your gift will regenerate much sooner than mine.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’ Ronnyn lifted his scarred arm between them. ‘I’ll be a cripple twice over!’

Sardeon’s mouth fell open.

Ronnyn turned and left, and this time it was a while before his choice-brother followed.

S
ORNE CAST A
look over his shoulder, marking the position of the sun. He adjusted the rudder, feeling the blisters on his palms burst. The pain brought tears to his eyes. He’d been awake for three days with hardly any rest. Soon, he would have to sleep, but first, he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the Maygharian as possible.

He was never bored, never alone. The children took turns sitting with him. Two or three would keep him company, talking of their homes and how they looked forward to seeing their families again. Sometimes they just chattered, as children will, of small concerns, and he caught a glimpse of their world, where everything they had ever known had ended; yet they still looked forward, undaunted.

Tiasely sent Orza to him with a mug of hot water in which floated chunks of salted fish and carrot. They had plenty of carrots. He’d eaten them raw, over-cooked and under-cooked. Turned out Tiasely had been an apprentice seamstress. She had no idea how to cook.

The children were just happy to be free and eating something warm.

He thanked Orza and tucked the rudder under his arm, taking the mug in both hands. The bandages gave him some protection, but they were seeping. He should wash the burns before they turned bad. He should rest.

Later.

Right now he drank the lumpy soup – or runny stew, depending on which way you looked at it – and resumed his task, watching the sail, the direction of the wind, the state of the clouds, the size of the swells and the arc of the sun as it travelled through the sky.

A little later, Tiasely came out on deck, beaming. ‘Look what I found.’

‘Scissors?’

‘I’ve sharpened them as best I can.’ She saw he did not understand. ‘You look a fright. Your hair is all singed and you have no eyebrows left.’

He didn’t object as she set to work. Bits of singed white hair blew about the deck.

‘I’m going to have to make it really short to even it up,’ she warned.

‘I’m not worried.’

‘You’re not like any other Malaunje I’ve ever met.’

And he realised the children had no idea of his past. All the mistakes he’d made, the time he’d wasted... none of it mattered to them.

It was liberating.

She climbed down and studied him critically.

‘Do I pass muster?’ Sorne asked, amused by her serious expression.

‘No,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘But it’s the best I can do. You look tired. You should sleep.’

‘I’ll sleep, soon.’

A little later Yosune came out with the two biggest boys to keep him company and he had the impression Tiasely had sent them.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I
MOSHEN LOWERED THE
spy-glass. They’d been fleeing before the sea-vermin since dawn. ‘They’re gaining on us.’

‘Can’t we raise more sail?’ Egrayne asked the ship’s master.

‘We can, but then we’d leave our slower ships behind.’

Imoshen studied the sky. ‘If a fog rolled in, we might manage to slip away.’

‘Oh, for a weather-worker...’ Egrayne muttered.

‘How long do we have?’ Imoshen asked the ship’s master as she returned the spy-glass.

‘At this rate, they’ll run us down by evening.’

‘Surely there’s something we can do?’ Egrayne insisted.

‘We’re doing it. If a storm blows up, it might scatter their fleet, but it could also break up ours. Other than that...’ He looked grim. ‘When the time’s right, we’ll prepare to repel them.’

The ship’s master returned to his duties and Egrayne returned to pacing. She’d been trained as a gift-warrior and she wanted to take action. Imoshen could sympathise.

Egrayne gestured to the sea-vermin sails. ‘If only we could get close enough to touch the leader of the sea-vermin, we could plant fear and doubt in their mind.’

Imoshen didn’t need physical contact to influence someone’s mind. All she needed was something intimately connected with a person: an item of clothing, or even better, hair or blood.

But she had no way of getting what she needed.

Frustration made her grip the rail and look up. Far above, she noticed a sea-eagle riding the air currents. Its lazy loops quartered the sky as it searched for prey.

Excitement bubbled through her as she felt things slot into place. A bestiare could command that bird, identify the leader of the sea-vermin and make the bird bring back what she needed.

It just might work.

‘Whatever happened to that bestiare you empowered?’ she asked Egrayne.

‘You remember that?’

She remembered not understanding why the T’En despised his gift. But then she hadn’t grown up in the rarefied atmosphere of the Celestial City. She’d grown up surrounded by Malaunje, and had worked alongside them. She’d known the rhythm of the seasons in the land and in the sea.

Egrayne frowned. ‘It was a year or two after you came to us. He must have gone into his brotherhood around seven years ago.’

‘Does he still live?’

‘I don’t know. It’s a rare and repugnant gift. I can’t remember his name, but I do recall his disappointed face, the day I uncovered the nature of his power.’ Egrayne grimaced. ‘Why?’

Imoshen pointed to the sea-eagle circling far above. ‘If that bird could bring me a piece of cloth worn close to the skin, a drop of blood or a single hair from the leader of the sea-vermin, I could cast an illusion into his mind –’

‘You could plant an illusion in their leader’s mind?’

Imoshen nodded, well aware of how her voice-of-reason would react. ‘Blood would be best to overcome his natural defences.’

Egrayne’s eyes narrowed. ‘Illusion is a male gift.’

‘My first bond-partner taught me the technique,’ Imoshen said, then realised what she’d said and hurried on before Egrayne could wonder why she’d described Reothe as her ‘first’ bond-partner. ‘It was a game we used to play.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

‘If I’d told you, when I first came to claim sanctuary, none of you would have trusted me. As it was, you all thought I was corrupted, addicted to the male gift.’

Egrayne did not deny this. ‘And have you always been able to influence someone’s mind from a distance?’

Imoshen shook her head. ‘When our city was besieged, I was looking for a way to influence King Charald, so I researched gifts that worked without touch. I’m no expert, but I figure the sea-vermin will be paranoid of each other. It shouldn’t take much to set them off.’