Outcast Chronicles - Sanctuary Part 17

*Ikor's estate lies to the east on the coast just south of the port, won't he be tempted a"'

*I'll tell Aingeru to watch over him and at the first sign of disloyalty to bring me his head. They'll both be so busy watching each other, they'll stay loyal!' Eskarnor laughed, pleased with himself.

Booted feet strode off.

*Oh, and Pataxo?' Eskarnor called. The boots stopped. *I'm leaving you with two hundred men to hold the Wyrd city.'

*But a"'

*But nothing. I'm trusting you with the queen. She carries my child. She legitimises my claim to the throne. The people love her. Hold onto this city and hold onto her, or you won't hold onto your head.'

Jaraile sprang to her feet, mind racing.

Her son lived.

The Wyrds had not killed him. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

*Raila?' Eskarnor called.

She dropped her fur and stepped into the sunken bath, running more hot water.

She ducked under the water, coming up just as he entered the bathing chamber.

*Washing again?' he asked, then his expression grew hungry as he took in her wet, rosy skin. *There's something to be said for bathing.'

He dropped his breeches, climbed into the tub and reached for her.

Her mind went away as she planned how to escape. She had to reach Sorne and warn him that Aingeru was going to betray him.

If Eskarnor was leaving tomorrow then she would be left here with Pataxo and his men in the palace. They could not watch her all the time.

THAT EVENING, RONNYN saw one of the T'En women slide a tray through a flap into the secret chamber, when she thought no one was looking. What kind of life was that? Why would they keep a T'En girl hidden? Why be so cruel when they were so kind to the rest of the children? True, they were all boys. As well as his three brothers, there were another four boys, ranging in age from two to six.

The T'En women sang the boys to sleep and All-mother Reoden fed baby Ashmyr. As she settled him in his cot, her Malaunje servant came over to Ronnyn.

*The healer's going to work on your bad arm,' Meleya said. *Go wait in the bathing chamber.'

He did as he was told and, a moment later, the healer joined him. She took a seat at the marble table. *Roll up your sleeve.'

He did this, leaned forward and placed his bad arm on the cool, slick marble. Looking at his forearm, with its misshapen muscle and scar tissue, he felt a pang of shame. It hurt, too. Sometimes, when he moved it without thinking or tried to carry something heavy, bolts of pain would shoot down his arm, making the muscles lock up.

The healer sat opposite him and turned up the lamp. He could feel her gathering her gift. The power was pure and clean, and it made his heart race and his body sing.

*Both arms,' Healer Reoden said. She studied his arms, then placed her hands on his forearms and closed her eyes as her fingers pressed into the muscles down the length of his forearms, driving her gift into his body.

*What are you doing?' he whispered, fascinated.

A smile tugged at her lips. *I'm working out how your good arm is made and comparing it to how your bad arm has been injured and healed imperfectly. That way I can urge your bad arm to grow in the right direction.'

*Could you have healed it completely, if I'd come to you when it happened?'

*Yes.'

But he'd been living on the island then. His mother and his sister had done the best they could for him. Aravelle had ma.s.saged his arm every day, trying to make the knotted, twisted muscles straighten, pulling, twisting, forcing his arm to work.

*Your Malaunje sister did well.'

He stiffened. *Can you sense my thoughts?'

*With touch, sometimes. It's something we can all do, but it's considered rude and intrusive, if we do it without consent. I wasn't sensing your thoughts. I was focusing on the healing and thinking how much worse this would have been if not for your sister's dedication. Were you thinking of her?'

Only all the time. But he didn't say that.

*Without her ma.s.sages, your arm would have curled up, pulling tight until it was useless.'

He flushed, remembering how Aravelle would ma.s.sage his arm and how he had used the opportunity to call his power and try to breach her defences. Back then, his gift had raged to be used.

On board the ship, his gift had not risen once. The way the healer's power pulsed through his body should have roused it.

Now that he thought about it, his power hadn't risen properly since the night the Mieren had raped his mother and sister. He'd been so furious then that his gift had broken free, leaving him exhausted and drained.

He should have protected them...

*You're tensing up. I need you to relax.' Reoden gave a little huff of annoyance. *It's a pity your gift isn't manifesting. I could have tapped into it, to help the healing.'

*It isn't?'

She shook her head, eyes still closed in concentration. *I feel no hint of power in you.'

But it had been moving.

His gift's drive to be used had once been so powerful it had shaped the way he thought, making him resent Aravelle because she wouldn't let him test his power on her. Looking back, he found it hard to believe he'd behaved like that.

*What I'm going to do next will hurt. I have to reform some of the worst muscle damage. Try to think of something else. Ready?'

*Ready.'

But he wasn't. His bad arm was his flaw and the pain had worn pathways in his mind and body. Try as he might, he could not recall the happy times back home on the island. All he could do was close his eyes and remember to breathe.

At last, the healer released him. *There. That's all for tonight.'

He felt dizzy with relief.

*You did well. I've known adults who could not cope with that level of pain.'

He shook his head, drew breath, then hesitated. He had been about to ask the healer about the hidden girl, but didn't want to get her in trouble.

*What troubles you, choice-son?'

Where to start? *Why must we keep our distance from our Malaunje kin?'

*I know it seems cruel to turn your back on your sisters, but it is for their own safety. You know my Malaunje servant?'

*Meleya?'

Reoden nodded. *Before I began my initiate training at seventeen there was a terrible accident. My little choice-brother was hurt. Driven by my love for him, my gift broke free of my control. The power healed him, but Meleya was right beside me. It crashed through her defences and imprinted itself on her. She couldn't prevent it and I couldn't help it. I made her my devotee.' The healer shrugged. *Since then, Meleya has been linked to me, addicted to my power. The gifts are dangerous and we T'En have a responsibility to the Malaunje around us. Meleya and I are lucky, in that we're well-suited.'

Reoden's keen, wine-dark eyes sought his and held them. *Imagine being tied to someone you despise. Or perhaps you loved them once, and you've grown to hate them. A devotee is for life, Ronnyn. And when we love someone our emotions are harder to control, making our gifts harder to contain. Why do you think the custom of keeping our Malaunje kin at a distance arose? We do it to protect them. The gifts are a great responsibility.'

And he had nearly forced his gift on Aravelle. Shame made him hang his head. He hated himself and his gift. Yet, at the same time, he longed for the power to return. He was as much addicted to it as any devotee.

What if it never came back? What would happen to him, with his crippled arm and crippled gift?

His T'En father would reject him. No other brotherhood would take him. He'd...

*Ronnyn, what is it?'

He couldn't tell her. No one must know.

A pure T'En without a gift. It was too shameful.

*One day you'll learn you can trust me.' The healer squeezed his hand. Coming to her feet, she gestured to his bad arm. *It may be stiff and feel worse than usual. We'll have another session in a couple of days. Tomorrow I'll see if I can fix your broken nose.'

Chapter Thirteen.

ARAVELLE STUMBLED OUT of the foredeck cabins. It was the end of her first day serving the all-father and she was too tired to think. A fog had rolled in. The lantern that hung from the nearest mast formed a dull golden halo. She should have been watching where she was going, but all she could think of was curling up next to her little sister and going to sleep, hopefully with no nightmares of her family being kidnapped, her father murdered, her mother dying of blood loss after giving birth to her little brother.

She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath, only to sense the abrasive tang of power. Going completely still, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to taste the chill, foggy air.

This was T'En male power, laced with something terrible. Her stomach knotted with fear.

Heart racing, she looked along the flagship's mid-deck towards the rear-decks, but the mist was so thick she could not see more than a body length in front of her.

There were dangerous men hidden in the fog.

She swallowed and edged slowly along the deck towards the hatch. If she could just slip below...

A m.u.f.fled curse.

*Catch him!'

A young, wiry T'En man came running out of the fog towards her.

Seeing her, he hesitated.

Someone grabbed him from behind. Another pair of arms joined the first and dragged him back. His boots thumped on the deck as he bucked and writhed, disappearing into the fog. She heard the dull thud and grunt of a struggle.

Then nothing but m.u.f.fled breathing.

After a moment, a man muttered, *Who would have thought the beast-lover had so much fight in him?'

His savage satisfaction made her shudder and her frozen muscles unlocked.

She spun on her toes and went to run, only to slam into someone's chest. Strong hands caught her. One arm went around her waist, lifting her off her feet, and a hand covered her mouth.

The Mieren rapist had grabbed her, knocking her to the ground, knocking the air out of her chest. No matter how hard she'd struggled, she could not throw him off.

But the Mieren hadn't smelled like this. This was one of her own people.

Saskar?

She looked into his dark eyes and saw fear as he glanced over her shoulder towards the fog that hid the struggle.

His eyes returned to hers and held her gaze, asking a silent question.

She nodded; she would be quiet.

He let go, took her hand and he drew her back with him.

She expected him to lead her into the pa.s.sage under the foredeck. Instead, he drew her under the steps. There was just enough room to stand huddled together. In silence, they stared into the fog that hid the mid-deck.

She could still sense aggressive male gift and hear the occasional m.u.f.fled gasp. *It's the all-father's duty to protect his people. Shouldn't we tell Hueryx? We a"'

*There's nothing we can do for him, Vella. We're only Malaunje.'

*But a"'

*Besides, he was one of Kyredeon's T'En and our all-father can't interfere with the way another all-father runs his brotherhood.'

She could feel the tension in Saskar's body as he listened, senses on alert. When the sounds of the struggle faded, he let his breath out slowly and his shoulders relaxed.

She shivered. The night was cold, the fog damp and now that her heart was no longer racing...

*You'll catch a chill.' Saskar rubbed her arms.

It made her feel warm and protected, and she didn't like that. She had to be strong. Stepping out of reach, she came up against the wall. *Why were you right behind me?'

He gave her an exasperated look. *I was making sure you reached Charsoria's cabin safely.' He tilted his head to listen. She saw him inhale, weighing the scents and traces of power on the air. *I think they've gone. Come on.'

He caught her hand and drew her out from under the stairs. They crossed the deck, heading for the fore-hatch.

She could sense residual gift-working, but there was no sign of the struggle or the initiate. That could be Ronnyn in a few years, trying to make his way in the brotherhood. She felt sorry for the young initiate.