Sanctuary (64 page)

‘Not this invitation. The first one.’

‘This is the only invitation I have received.’

‘So you have come to us,’ Pavoii said, ‘seeking sanctuary.’

Sorne could tell Imoshen didn’t like her tone.

‘As you came here over three hundred years ago seeking asylum,’ Imoshen said.

Sorne had the impression that the Sagoras stiffened under their robes and masks.

‘In your original message, you spoke of offering knowledge,’ Hrafnii said.

‘In exchange for sanctuary. It is said the Sagoras value knowledge above all else.’

‘We do. But we also know the value of knowledge,’ Pavoii said. ‘In exchange for sanctuary, we ask that you train three of our Sensitives to operate on the higher plane.’

It all fell into place. The Sagoras had knowledge of all things except the higher plane, and this was a source of power. Their Sensitives might have a little innate power, but a little was never enough, when someone else always had more.

‘The higher plane is dangerous.’ Imoshen spoke slowly, as though choosing her words with care. ‘What you ask could kill your people.’

‘It’s true. I lost my brother to the higher plane.’ Sorne gestured to his face. ‘And the night I lost this eye, four Mieren died. Over the years, I’ve lost count of the number of Mieren who have been killed because they thought they could manipulate stolen power.’

‘Our Sensitives are more than Mieren,’ Pavoii said. ‘This one just read the mind of a T’En.’

‘A market-day trick, compared with gift-working on the higher plane,’ Imoshen said.

‘Then you refuse?’ The Sagora in the crested bear mask was terse.

‘We did not say that,’ Ardonyx said smoothly. ‘Even the T’En cannot operate on the higher plane without training. We train for twenty years, yet we still lose some to the dangers of the empyrean plane.’

‘Just a few days ago,’ Imoshen’s voice was raw with remembered pain, ‘we lost Gift-tutor Sarodyti, when –’

‘Are you saying it would take twenty years to train our Sensitives?’ Felinii asked, her voice neutral.

‘Would you hand a naked flame to a child and turn them loose in a hayfield?’ Ardonyx countered.

‘I would give them a lantern, that they would find their way.’

‘What if the lantern attracted beasts, which hungered for the light?’ Ardonyx asked.

Sorne nodded; he had been about to bring up the predators.

‘We know about the predators of the higher plane,’ Felinii said. ‘Our Sensitives have –’

‘Been taken,’ Sorne guessed.

Imoshen let her breath out in a long exhale. ‘I agree. We’ll teach them. No one should venture onto the higher plane unprepared.’

R
ONNYN HEARD SOMEONE
shouting his name out on the mid-deck. He glanced to Sardeon, and they both ran out, to find everything shrouded in fog and Aravelle being restrained by two of the night-watch. She looked like a drowned rat, teeth chattering as she insisted she had to see him.

‘What’s wrong, Vella?’ He ran to her side, fearing the worst. ‘Did they –’

‘No.’ Aravelle reached for him.

Cerafeoni separated them. ‘Ronnyn, I know you grew up with your Malaunje kin, but you can’t associate with them now. And besides, we can’t have brotherhood Malaunje creeping onto our ship. This is sisterhood territory.’

A crowd had gathered and Ronnyn could hear the empowered lads snickering. He felt a stab of annoyance with Aravelle. She looked ridiculous, being held off the ground by two of Cerafeoni’s warriors, all dripping and bedraggled. She made him look ridiculous. Then he was ashamed of himself for thinking this.

Aravelle glared at the snickering empowered lads. ‘I’ve come to warn you about the brotherhood uprising. Perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered!’

Cerafeoni took a step closer and tilted Aravelle’s chin so she could see her face. ‘This is not something to joke about.’

‘I know. I serve in All-father Hueryx’s cabin. Dretsun came to see him tonight. They –’

‘Send for Egrayne and Kiane,’ Reoden said, as she pushed through the crowd. ‘Everyone else inside. This is all-mother business.’

The empowered lads grumbled. Ronnyn planted his feet; he wasn’t leaving. Sardeon went inside, only to return a moment later with a blanket for Aravelle. By then, Imoshen’s voice-of-reason and hand-of-force had joined them in the circle of light cast by the lantern. The fog was so thick he could not see beyond the next mast.

‘So what’s this about a brotherhood uprising?’ Egrayne asked.

And Aravelle told them about Dretsun’s meeting with All-father Hueryx.

‘...and if you don’t hurry, you’ll be too late to save Imoshen.’

Chapter Forty-Nine

A
S
I
MOSHEN TRAVELLED
down the road to the port, the carriage was swallowed by fog. She was filled with the conviction she could not have done other than she had. To leave the Sagorese Sensitives vulnerable to the empyrean predators was wrong.

‘And besides,’ she said, although they hadn’t been speaking. ‘If our people are to stay here, we can’t have Sensitives unleashing predators and leaving it up to our gift-warriors to risk their lives to make this plane safe.’

‘The fact that the Sagorese Sensitives are already in contact with the higher plane changes everything,’ Ardonyx said. ‘Dretsun and the others will understand.’

The carriage came to a stop, and they climbed out into a world of mist. They could not see more than a body length in front of them.

The Sagora unhooked one of the two lanterns and handed it to Sorne. As they made their way towards the wharf, they moved in a pool of golden light. They walked in silence. Imoshen’s mind was full of questions about the Sagoras and their innate power.

Sorne hesitated.

‘Give me the lantern,’ Ardonyx said. ‘I can find the way.’

‘I thought I sensed male gift,’ Sorne whispered. He reached to his hip, as if going for a sword, then cursed when his hand closed on the scribe’s satchel.

Imoshen opened her gift awareness. ‘Sorne’s right. Put out the lantern.’

‘Too late,’ Saskeyne said, stepping into the circle of lantern light with his two seconds.

‘You?’ Imoshen had not expected him to turn on her. He was impetuous and eager for stature, but she had not thought him devious. Her gift surged as she read him. Determination. She could talk her way out of this. ‘There’s no need –’

‘But there is. What we need is a leader of vision,’ Saskeyne said.

‘And you’re that leader?’

‘No, I am.’ Dretsun stepped into the circle of light.

Her gift surged as she sensed others closing in on them. Dretsun’s supporters meant to kill them here. She sought Ardonyx’s eyes; so much time wasted.

He moved forward, drawing their gaze to him. ‘There’s no need for this. We share a common enemy. We...’

And Imoshen felt the force of his power, as words laden with gift-resonance poured from him. She couldn’t have repeated what he said, but she knew as long as he spoke, she was spellbound. A calm descended on her, on all of them.

Yet one small part of her mind shrieked a warning. Ardonyx had lied to her. He was more than a clever wordsmith, able to select the right thing to say. He could imbue his words with power. And all this time she had trusted him, believing everything he said.

Of course.

A dog barked. The sharp sound cut through Ardonyx’s voice. At the same time, All-father Abeliode stumbled out of the mist with his two seconds.

‘Kill the wordsmith first!’ Dretsun shouted and attacked, long-knives drawn.

‘Run, Imoshen!’ Ardonyx stepped in, deflecting Dretsun’s blow, but before he could escape, Dretsun’s hand-of-force stabbed him in the back.

Sorne swung the lantern, scattering burning oil across their attackers. ‘Run, Imoshen.’

She ran blind through a dark grey featureless world, the waning moons barely illuminating the fog.

Her foot caught on a step a fraction of a heartbeat before her hands connected with a fog-damp stone wall. She felt along the wall until she came to a wooden door. There were people on the other side, she could tell. But they weren’t going to open the door and let her in.

She gasped and quietened her breath, listening. Running footsteps approached, carried on a wave of acrid male gift. She felt her way along the building until she found an alleyway and stepped into it.

Heart thundering, she waited.

If she could just touch her attacker’s skin before he stabbed her, she could wrench his life force from his body and send it to the empyrean plane.

Mouth dry with fear, she waited for him to reach her.

A dark shadow solidified as it ran out of the fog towards her. She let her gift surge.

He stopped, stunned.

That slight hesitation gave her the chance to reach out and touched his face. Saskeyne. She knew a moment’s remorse. But they’d stabbed Ardonyx. She tore the life from him. He was so surprised he didn’t even try to drag her with him.

He fell and she saw another brotherhood warrior only a step behind him. Saskeyne’s companion drew his blade. Imoshen sensed the strike coming. She dropped to her knees, meaning to crawl past, but his thigh collided with her shoulder. She clasped his leg, and ran her hands up, trying to find skin.

He caught her hair, pulling on it. Tears of pain burned her eyes. She saw his other arm swing down, heard the blade whistle. Her hand slipped past his belt, slid under his vest, onto the hot skin of his belly. It was Saskeyne’s hand-of-force. She ripped the life from him too.

Momentum carried his arm along its strike and the flat of his blade hit her head, even as he dropped. They both sprawled on the cold, damp stones.

Disoriented, Imoshen lay there, panting.

Then she heard shouts and running feet.

Coming to her knees, she felt around for the knife. Took it and ran down the alleyway into the fog. She had to get back to the wharf, find the rowboat, return to the ship and bring help.

S
ORNE EXPECTED TO
die. The irony was that it was his own people who would kill him. He swung the lantern, spilling burning oil. His attackers cursed as they beat out the flames.

Shouldering into one of them, he pulled the man’s knife from its sheath and ran off into the fog. Ardonyx was down, and Imoshen had run the other way. There were nine armed assailants. Unless they were very lucky...

He wasn’t lucky. His boot caught on a wooden bench and he fell over it, dropping the knife.

The dog barked again, setting off others. But the wall of sound was too late to disguise his whereabouts.

As he felt for the weapon, two men caught him, hauled him to his feet, and slammed him up against a cold stone wall. All he could see was dark man-shaped shadows to each side of him in the grey fog.

He could feel power coming from his captors, but it was the power coming towards him that terrified him.

Dretsun paused at arm’s length. ‘What have we here?’

‘Just kill me and be done with it,’ Sorne ground out.

‘Kill a half-blood who can command armies?’ Dretsun laughed. ‘I think not, I have something much better planned for you.’

He tore open Sorne’s shirt and placed his palm over Sorne’s racing heart. Knowing what he intended, Sorne fought with all his strength to break free. He was not going to spend the rest of his life as this T’En’s devotee.

Then the power hit him, wave after wave.

Once before, a T’En warrior had tried to break his walls and Sorne had retreated to his childhood, to the scouring frame, where he had learnt to bear pain under the lash. Each burning lash-stroke was a wave of painful gift power, but he had never broken under the lash. Never...

The hand left his chest and he sagged in his captors’ grip. He felt like laughing. He’d beaten Dretsun.

Hands caught his face. A mouth covered his. Dretsun kissed him, pouring power directly into him.

And he drowned.

T
OBAZIM CLIMBED OUT
of the rowboat, onto the dock and raised his lantern. ‘Curse this fog. We’ll never find them.’

‘It might help them escape,’ Hueryx said.

Who would have thought he’d ally himself with Hueryx? But the all-father had come to him and revealed Dretsun’s plan, knowing he would want to save his shield-brother.

A dog barked.

Tobazim’s hand-of-force, Haromyr, Eryx, Ionnyn and Iraayel joined him on the dock, bringing another two lanterns. Norsasno had objected to Iraayel’s presence, saying there were other, more experienced warriors. But it was Iraayel’s choice-mother who was in danger. So Iraayel came with them.

Hueryx had his two seconds, a devotee and four T’En warriors with him. They were all armed, but it would do no good if they couldn’t find Ardonyx and the others.

‘Open your shield-brother link,’ Hueryx urged.

Tobazim opened his gift awareness, seeking Ardonyx, and... staggered as pain stabbed into his back between his ribs. He almost dropped the lantern.

‘We’re too late. They’ve already attacked,’ Hueryx said. ‘Quick.’

Haromyr slid an arm around Tobazim and they headed up the dock. He thought he saw figures beyond the golden circle of the lantern-lit fog, but he must have been mistaken.

He heard cursing and running footsteps up ahead.

Somewhere there was clattering, and then the dog barked again, setting all the other dogs off. With the fog and the unknown terrain of the port town, it was hard to tell where the sounds came from.

The circle of golden fog moved with them, illuminating damp cobbles under their boots, a huddled figure in a pool of blood.

‘Ardonyx.’ Tobazim staggered the last few steps and dropped beside him. Still alive. ‘We’re here. You’re safe.’

He rolled Ardonyx over, only to discover he wasn’t conscious. They had to get him back to the ship and to Healer Reoden.

‘Help me.’ Tobazim looked up to see Hueryx organising search parties.

When the others ran off into the fog, Hueryx came back and knelt beside him.

Tobazim took Ardonyx’s shoulders. ‘We must get him back to the ship.’

‘We can’t let you do that,’ Abeliode said, walking into the circle of light with his two seconds. Aggressive male gift radiated from them.