Vergence (62 page)

After a while, in which they both sat with their own thoughts, he realised Sash's mother been watching him as he watched Sash. When she spoke, her tone was carefully weighed, almost gentle “You nearly lost your life for Sashael — to bring her here?”

“Yes,” Ebryn said. There didn't seem to be any point in lying.

“Can you tell me how this happened?”

“We were attacked,” Ebryn said. “There were men close behind us. I think one of them tried to stab me in the back and Sash blocked him … and that's how she was hurt.”

She looked as if it was the answer she'd been expecting. “I mean, why did this happen? What reason did these men have to kill you?”

“One of them said she killed his brother.”

“Did she?”

Ebryn looked at her to see if the question was serious. It seemed a strange thing for a mother to ask, with her daughter lying a few yards away. “No, definitely not.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Sash told us she didn't. She gave her word.”

She nodded. “You say Sashael was between you and these men—”

“And Addae, a friend of ours, ” Ebryn said.

“Yet it was you they tried to kill, not Sashael? And my daughter was wounded shielding you?”

Ebryn felt his insides twist at her words. “Yes.”

They sat silent again, watching the rise and fall of Sash breathing, while he digested what she'd said.

“Their weapons were envenomed,” she said.

Ebryn glanced at her, uncertain if she'd made a statement or asked a question.

“Yes. Our friend Addae said he recognised it. He said it was always swiftly fatal, but he was wrong.”

“No, your friend spoke the truth — the venom they used is fast and deadly. Had you not brought Sashael here, she would have died.”

“Sash told us her people … you … she said you were very long lived—”

“Some of us are, but it would not have saved her,” Sash's mother said. “When Sashael decided to journey to Vergence, and I realised I could say nothing to persuade her to stay, I gave her a gift—”

“Leth, her dragon.”

“Yes, Leth.” She extended her left arm. She had the same braided lines marked above her wrist as Sash, except all were red. “You have seen these on Sashael? They are not decorations. Each is a pattern of power which, once accepted, becomes part of the wearer. I gave Sashael a pattern for her dragon. I told her it was a leash to help her tame him and keep him close. But I also gave her a lifeline, binding him much closer than any leash, drawing his vitality to her, should she ever need it. If you look, you will see the blue pattern is no longer on her—”

“So Leth has died to keep Sash alive?” Ebryn didn't know whether to feel dismay or gratitude at the cold calculation.

“It may seem a cruel thing to you now, but one day, when you have a daughter, you will do the same to keep her safe.”

Ebryn couldn't see himself doing anything of the sort. He sat in silence, rather than disagree, feeling the bruised muscles in his body starting to protest.

He'd just decided to get up to stretch when he heard a disturbance in the outer corridor, the sound of something falling, and a rippling feeling, extending along the world skin as someone arrived through the between.

Moments later, he felt Addae's painfully familiar far-sense sweep the inside of the building, and tighten to focus on him.

“Addae is here, my friend from Vergence,” Ebryn said, eyeing the two guards in the doorway as they turned to look down the passage towards the sound of the disturbance, positioning themselves to block the way into the room.

Sash's mother said something in her language to her men, as quick footsteps approached, and they moved aside, allowing Addae to step past them into the room.

Ebryn could see a cut on Addae's forehead, above one of his eyes, and another on his arm, and his face wore a grim expression. Addae walked cautiously, as a man might when unsure of his welcome. He looked to where Sash lay and Ebryn thought a flicker of mingled surprise and relief showed in his eyes.

“It is good to see you are here, my friend,” Addae said. “And Sashael, she is free of the poison?”

“Addae, what are you doing here?” Ebryn asked, ignoring the question. “How did you find us?”

“Bad things have happened in Vergence. You are needed.”

“Is it Fla?” Ebryn asked.

Addae raised his eyebrows. “Yes it is one called Fla.”

Ebryn nodded. “And he's protecting himself with sevyric iron?”

“How do you know this my friend?”

“We were attacked by a summoned ephemeral in the library on the way here. I couldn't think of anybody else who'd want to unleash ephemerals, and banishing sevyric iron is the only thing they'd need me for.”

He felt torn, looking from Addae to Sash, to Sash's mother, unable to decide.

“Go with your friend,” she said. “Sashael will be safe here. When she wakes, she will be very angry about her dragon. It would be better for you if you were not here then. I will explain to my daughter. And do not fear, whatever my concerns, whatever I might say to her when she has recovered, I know she will return to your city.”

“Very well, I'll go,” Ebryn said.

She rested her hand on his arm for a moment, then stood up, looking towards the two men standing outside the entrance. “Poor things, they have had to be so patient, waiting for me today, and they don't seem to know what to make of our Numerian prince.”

Ebryn could see that neither man understood anything that had been said, and were still looking at Addae uncertainly with their hands on the hilts of their swords.

She turned back just before she reached the entrance. “Take care, when she does return to you Ebryn. I know my daughter — she will not accept another gift from me, and without it I can lend her no protection in Vergence.”

Ebryn nodded and stood. As he faced Addae, he realised he hadn't asked after any of his other friends: Elouphe, Teblin, and the others who'd accompanied them to see the spike. But he didn't think he could bear to know for certain who'd died just yet.

“Let's go,” he said.

“Follow me,” Addae said. “I will be our guide.”

Ebryn clasped the arm Addae offered, so that each gripped the wrist of the other, and without any preamble they fell into the between, diving away from Senesella, buffeted by the powerful outflow, but holding cleanly towards Vergence.

Brothers

A
DDAE TOOK HIM
to a broad avenue. He recognised it as one running parallel to the claws, and here were gathered clusters of senior casters, many of them masters from the entrance test, and a large contingent of Aremetuet, dressed in their dark red cloaks. A group led by Brack surrounded a narrow stone arch on the opposite side. The surrounding stone was scorched and cracked, and Ebryn could see multiple wards shimmering in front of it.

In places there were rents in the air oozing a black viscous substance which dripped onto whatever lay beneath, smoking and evaporating like spots of grease dropped onto an extremely hot stove-plate. The world-skin felt bruised, ruptured like a wound left to fester, and burst.

Strewn along the avenue in either direction lay evidence of a battle. Everywhere there were signs of damage — smashed light posts, damaged buildings, chunks of masonry in the road and, at the far end, an upturned symor, with its wheels still cycling slowly in the air.

Unmoving shapes lay scattered around the symor, and in front of a building with half its side torn away, like dirty ragged bundles abandoned to scavengers and the rain. Plumes of smoke rose from parts of the city, and a strong smell of burning wood hung in the air.

It looked like a war had raged across the city in the time he'd been away. The constant background noise of people going about their business, which he'd learnt to ignore, had been replaced with distant rumbles and shouting, suggesting ongoing skirmishes in a number of nearby places.

“Who sent for me?” Ebryn asked Addae as they approached the largest group of casters.

Almost before he'd finished asking the question, Deme peeled away from the group.

“So, we have a rogue caster called Fla Cyrus hiding somewhere in the catacombs below the streets. As you can see, he's caused a great deal of damage and killed many people. It seems this Fla managed to summon and control a small army of ephemerals, and set them loose on Vergence. We've defeated most of them and driven the remaining ones back underground.

“Unfortunately, the city guard arrived here before we had gathered ourselves in numbers and sent as many as a hundred heavily armoured men down, equipped with sevyric iron. None returned. So his ephemerals can't fight their way back up, and we can't venture down, because there is too much of the stuff scattered around down there now.”

“Which is why you wanted me here,” Ebryn said.

“Yes,” Deme said. “We've been told you can fold away far greater weights of sevyric iron than you managed in the entrance test.”

Ebryn nodded. He'd known what he needed to do from the moment he'd seen Addae in Senesella.

He looked Deme directly in the eye. “I can, but I am going to need to be much closer than this. I'll need to be down below.”

“No, not possible,” Deme said. “I won't send apprentices down there to face Fla. It's too dangerous, even with help.”

“I'm not an apprentice,” Ebryn said.

Deme appeared not to hear, turning in the direction of Brack and his men. “They will just have to take their chances. We'll need to summon ephemerals to send with them.”

“But I'm not an apprentice,” Ebryn said, speaking louder. “Look.” He pulled his adepts seal from under his shirt, and held it out for her.

She took the amulet and examined it closely. “Where did you get this?”

“Ben-gan gave it to me.”

“Ben-gan? Why did he do that?”

Ebryn shrugged. “He said I was ready. He said it meant I was free to choose my own path, and that's what I'm doing now.”

Deme stared at him tight-lipped, the same kind of expression he remembered Fidela using when she didn't like something. “Very well, but you're not going in alone, and once the iron is dealt with you're to return directly here. No heroics, this isn't a game.”

“I will go with him,” Addae said.

“No, you won't,” Deme said. “Not unless Ben-gan has given you one of these too. Hemetuen are too valuable to risk on something like this.”

“It's fine,” Ebryn said to Addae. “I'll do just as she says — get rid of the iron, and return here.” He hated lying, especially to Addae, but he couldn't see any other way he'd persuade Deme to let him go if he didn't.

She turned and marched across the road, towards Brack.

“— and where are our great leaders when we face a deadly foe? Where is the Ronyon Orim when he's really needed?” Brack was saying.

He spoke loudly, evidently trying to be heard as widely as possible.

“Ah,” Brack said as he spotted Ebryn. “Here comes the boy who should have been training in the Aremetuet, not mouldering with the rest of the cowardly Genestuer scum.”

“Elector Brack,” Deme said in a curt tone. “This young man has volunteered to go below. Perhaps some of your brave men would like to accompany him?”

“I'll go myself,” Brack said quickly. “He won't be able to stop the two of us.”

At the entrance Ebryn turned to Brack, who followed just on his shoulder. At least two dozen of Brack's men crowded behind them, standing so close they almost trod on his heels with every other step.

“I’ll need to go ahead. That way I can try to remove the sevyric iron before he knows I'm there — give him as little time as possible to do anything,” Ebryn said.

“Yes, a good plan,” Brack said. “But I won't be far behind. I'm not risking your neck just for this scum sucking traitor.”

The entrance was narrow, and Ebryn ducked down to pass the arch. Inside, an uneven set of stairs disappeared down into the dark. Heavy, dank air seemed to wrap around them as they descended, a stagnant pooling of rich earthiness mingled with the odour of decay.

Fifteen or so yards in, towards the bottom of the stairs, they found the first of the guards' bodies lying face down, neck at an impossible angle, his arms still by his side. To Ebryn it looked like the man had died while moving down the stairs, falling at once and sliding the last few steps, making no effort to protect himself.