Besieged Read online

  ‘Are his eyes as dark as old blood?’ Sorna whispered.

  ‘Dark blue, I think.’ Not that it made a difference. The six fingers and toes were enough to condemn him. Oskane moved so the light from the tall window fell over the baby’s face, and then he saw clearly. He met Sorna’s sky-blue eyes. ‘They will darken to mulberry. He has their eyes.’

  Sorna sank against the headboard, arms falling aside so that the baby lay across her body unsupported. The infant was quiet, staring up at the window as if fascinated by the light.

  Oskane heard the door open, then close. Charald had returned without Sorna’s father and brothers. This was a bad sign. Etri and Nitzel were one step behind the king.

  The king radiated determination. ‘Stand back, Oska.’

  Twenty-seven years ago, he had stood back. Then he had believed in the Seven and the wisdom of men. Now he doubted both. Now he had so much more to lose. He fingered the precious ruby King Charald had given him after the defeat of the barons. As he came slowly to his feet, Oskane felt every one of his forty-seven years.

  Sorna gasped and clutched the baby to her chest. ‘You can’t have him.’

  ‘It’s for the best. He will be happier amongst his own kind,’ the saw-bones told her.

  It was true, but when Oskane glanced to the king, he recognised the grim line of Charald’s mouth. The king did not plan to send the child to the Wyrds. Did Etri believe what he was saying, or was his hunger to rise from battlefield saw-bones to the king’s personal healer powerful enough to justify killing an innocent newborn?

  ‘We could cut off his extra finger,’ Sorna suggested, ‘and hide his eyes somehow.’

  ‘Hide his eyes? How? You stupid girl!’ Charald grimaced, then beckoned the saw-bones.

  Etri moved forward, his mouth forming a hard line, and Oskane had his answer. Etri would kill for the king, for ambition.

  Desperate, Sorna looked to Oskane.

  Chapter Two

  ‘WAIT.’

  It was on the tip of Oskane’s tongue, then, to tell Charald about his twin but, seeing the king’s implacable expression, there was no point.

  ‘Take the brat, Etri,’ Charald ordered.

  ‘No. Please...’ Sorna hugged the newborn to her breast. She searched the king’s face, her eyes widening in horror. ‘Surely, you can’t mean to kill our baby?’

  Charald did not bother to reply.

  ‘Give him to the T’En,’ she pleaded. ‘No one needs to know he’s your son. The T’En–’

  ‘No child of mine is going to serve the Wyrds. Filthy gift-workers, festering in their cankerous city. A pox on King Charald the Peace-maker for giving them that island. King Charald the Weak, I say. Because of him, we’re cursed with that Wyrd nest they call the Celestial City – Cesspit City, more like. I wish it would sink beneath the lake.’ He paced, working himself up. Oskane recognised the signs. ‘For nearly three hundred years, now, the T’En have gathered there, plotting against us, buying up the best farmland and mines in my kingdom, growing ever richer. And all because my ancestor was too weak to destroy them when he had the chance.’

  He threw Nitzel and Oskane a filthy look. When he’d first inherited the crown, they had advised him to borrow gold from the T’En to fund his wars. It had been a life-saver, but now that the war was over, he had to pay it back. With interest.

  ‘They say not to look into a T’En’s eyes, that they can enslave a True-man and rob him of his will,’ Etri said. ‘They say their gifts can start fires, bring rain, shrivel a man’s–’

  ‘They say a lot of things,’ Nitzel snapped. ‘But who knows the truth? If their gifts are so powerful, why didn’t the T’En defeat us three hundred years ago?’

  ‘They are few, we are many. Even so, it was a battle that neither side won, and the kingdom suffered,’ Oskane said. ‘Back then, it seemed the king could afford to show mercy. King Charald the–’

  ‘Don’t mention his name.’ Charald rounded on Oskane.

  ‘If we do not learn from the past, sire, we are condemned to repeat it.’ Oskane stiffened, but did not back down; he could not afford to. ‘The silverhead T’En are few, but they are powerful.’

  ‘They must have a weakness,’ Nitzel insisted. ‘Everyone does.’

  ‘If they have a weakness, we are yet to find it.’

  ‘Because we have not looked hard enough.’

  ‘How do we do that, when they turn all True-men out of their island city at dusk every night?’

  ‘We–’

  ‘Enough! You two bicker like old women.’ The king pointed to the infant in the young queen’s arms. ‘I’ll see the brat dead before I see him serve the Wyrds!’

  ‘I’ll take him,’ Oskane heard himself say.

  Everyone turned to him.

  ‘I’ll take him to study. Why should we hand over our half-blood babies to the T’En?’ Oskane found the words falling from his lips as though he’d been planning this for years and, as he spoke, he realised he had. The T’En and their half-blood servants had always held a sick fascination for him. ‘Why should our Malaunje grow up to serve them? I’ve been studying the Wyrd scrolls and–’

  King Charald recoiled, making the sign of the Seven to ward off T’En power. ‘Unclean –’

  ‘The scrolls were written by True-men,’ Oskane protested. While he knew that simple folk believed anything related to Wyrds was tainted by association, he had not expected this reaction from an educated man.

  Etri glanced to Nitzel, and Oskane realised the saw-bones was ready to denounce him. When had these two become allies? Nitzel wore an expression of sorrow, but Oskane knew him too well to be fooled. They had been uneasy colleagues for twelve years, and rivals for Charald’s trust. Now, Nitzel could see Oskane was destroying himself, and the baron was delighted.

  All this flashed through Oskane’s mind in a heartbeat. He must not falter. Determined to be understood, he plunged on. ‘Nearly three hundred years ago, before King... before the T’En and Malaunje were completely segregated from us, our church scribes kept records of half-blood births. It doesn’t happen often, but every now and then a Malaunje baby is born to a True-man and his wife through no fault of their own.’ He met Nitzel’s eyes. Neither of them was foolish enough to use Charald’s twin as an example. ‘Back then, the high priest had half-blood spies in the T’En sisterhoods and brotherhoods. And the spies reported that every now and then a half-blood couple would produce a baby with blood that was completely degraded; a full-blood T’En.

  ‘For them, it was – and still is, I imagine – a cause for celebration. The T’En females have trouble falling pregnant and carrying a baby to term, because their blood is so impure. If their kind did not live twice as long as us, there would be even fewer of them. They need full-blood T’En babies born of half-blood parents to boost their numbers.’ He met the king’s eyes, willing him to understand. ‘Don’t you see? By giving our half-blood babies to the brotherhoods and sisterhoods, we not only give the T’En Malaunje servants, but we give them half-bloods who could go on to produce more T’En.’

  Charald’s eyes grew wide with horror. ‘Seven save us!’

  ‘I always wondered where those full-blood silverhead abominations came from,’ Etri muttered. ‘Old hair, young faces, eyes the colour of blood–’

  ‘Rather than give our half-blood babies to the T’En, you’re suggesting we kill them?’ Nitzel asked.

  Sorna whimpered and drew breath to protest.

  ‘Give this one to me,’ Oskane said. ‘Much better to know your enemy. Much better to study the half-bloods and train them to serve us against the T’En.’

  ‘Of course.’ A familiar martial gleam lit the king’s ice-blue eyes. ‘Train them to become our weapons.’

  Oskane had not thought that far ahead – he’d been trying to salvage his family’s honour from this setback – but the king’s suggestion made sense. ‘Sire, if you give me your baby–’

  ‘He’s no son of mine. This half-blood is not Prin
ce Cedon.’

  ‘Of course. We can say your son was stillborn.’ Like Charald’s twin. But what of Sorna’s father? Would his cousin agree? He glanced to Sorna.

  ‘Her father is willing to keep his mouth shut,’ Charald said, anticipating him. You could say that for the king: he might be quick to anger, but he was not stupid. ‘The baron doesn’t want his family’s name stained by Malaunje blood. He claims the bad blood must have come through the girl’s mother. His two sons had a different dam.’

  Devastated by this betrayal, Sorna sank down.

  Oskane gestured to the newborn. ‘I’ll rear this half-blood boy and train him to serve the kingdom instead of–’

  ‘We can’t have Oskane and the brat near the port and the court, my king,’ Nitzel said. ‘We can’t have the half-blood brat living in one of the Seven’s churches, where someone might discover him. He’ll have to be sent away, far away.’

  Oskane realised he was being banished along with the babe. He wanted to object, but what they said was true. Perhaps he could send the babe away with a trusted servant and visit to make his observations? After all, he did not want to leave Sorna unsupported in Charald’s court.

  ‘Where would they go?’ Etri asked.

  ‘It must be somewhere people avoid,’ Nitzel said.

  Oskane knew from his rival’s expression that Nitzel already had a suggestion, and was guiding Charald to the idea, so that the king would think it his own. Both he and Nitzel had become adept at this, especially in the last few years when the king had become arrogant with success.

  Nitzel’s eyes gleamed. ‘Somewhere all good True-men and women shun–’

  ‘I have it,’ Charald exclaimed. ‘Oskane must take the brat somewhere unclean. Everyone avoids those places.’

  ‘Brilliant, sire,’ Etri said.

  ‘And not just any unclean place.’ Leaning closer, Nitzel lowered his voice. ‘If I may, my king, there is an unclean site on one of my estates, far to the north in the highlands. When the villagers discovered it, they fled their homes, but Oskane seems comfortable with the arcane. Send Oskane and the brat there.’

  ‘The highlands?’ Sorna repeated, dismayed. ‘I’ll never see him.’

  ‘The highlands are harsh,’ Oskane protested. He had no intention of leaving Port Mirror-on-Sea, and he wasn’t going to send the half-blood anywhere near Nitzel’s estate. ‘How would we survive?’

  ‘You can take a couple of servants,’ Charald said. ‘As long as they can be trusted to keep their mouths–’

  ‘I can provide trustworthy servants,’ Nitzel offered.

  Spies and guards. Oskane stiffened. It seemed he was unclean now, because of his research into the Wyrds. ‘I have my own servants. I know a place.’

  ‘As long as it’s isolated. I’ll want reports,’ King Charald said. ‘Once a year, until the brat is of use to me.’

  ‘And once a year I’ll visit,’ Sorna said. ‘I’ll stay for a small moon. See how he’s doing.’ She smiled down on the newborn and cupped his cheek. He turned instinctively towards her warm palm, seeking a nipple.

  ‘He’s hungry,’ Oskane observed.

  Sorna tugged at the drawstring of her gown to free her breasts.

  ‘What are you thinking, girl? True-women don’t feed half-bloods.’ King Charald gestured to the high priest. ‘Take him now, Oskane.’

  Sorna looked up, chin trembling. She did not resist when Oskane took the newborn, although her eyes remained fixed on the babe’s face.

  The infant writhed in Oskane’s arms, little head turning from side to side, seeking sustenance. ‘The babe will need a wet-nurse.’

  King Charald made an impatient gesture. ‘Hire some whore from the docks.’

  At this, Sorna made a sound of pain in her throat.

  ‘I’ll go and set things in motion.’ Oskane’s mind raced. He trusted his personal assistant. Franto was absolutely loyal, but he’d need several penitents to provide for the infant’s needs.

  The baby grizzled. Oskane offered his knuckle to suck on and the infant accepted it.

  The other three moved over to the cabinet where Etri had laid out his herbs and oils. Oskane went to leave, but the young queen called him back.

  ‘If I cannot be with him, then I want to give him a keepsake. Pass me my chest.’ She pointed to the small chest from the sideboard. When he gave it to her, she opened the lid and took out a silver torc. ‘This was my mother’s.’

  A single, bright blue stone sat in the centre.

  ‘I’ve never seen the like. What is it?’ Oskane asked.

  ‘It’s firoza, from beyond the mountains, in the far east. The traveller said it was a protective stone. Keep it safe for him. Keep him safe for me.’ Sorna’s chin trembled. ‘Promise?’

  ‘I will.’ Oskane tucked the torque between himself and the baby, so that it was hidden amongst the swaddling clothes.

  ‘Oskane.’ The king’s tone made them both jump.

  Despite his misgivings, Oskane gave Sorna a reassuring smile.

  He crossed the chamber to join the king, marvelling at his fall from grace. Last night, when Sorna went into labour, he’d been the king’s favourite, the man responsible for introducing Charald to the young queen who was about to present him with a son. By mid-morning, he was as good as banished. Not that he was going to give up his position as high priest; Nitzel did not win that easily. He’d go, see the babe settled, and return to support Sorna and guard his family’s interests.

  Oskane joined the king. ‘I’ll send in the women to see to the queen.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Charald’s gaze flicked to the saw-bones.

  In that moment Oskane knew Sorna would not leave the chamber alive. His step faltered.

  Not Sorna, not his sweet Sorna.

  The king held his gaze, daring him to speak up.

  Nitzel watched the confrontation, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, while Etri studiously measured drops into a goblet of wine.

  Oskane swallowed, heart hammering. His cousin, Sorna’s father, must have put the family’s position and wealth ahead of his daughter’s life and cut his losses. Oskane couldn’t imagine the brothers doing this. But what was the alternative? Banishment, and their estates confiscated?

  There had been a number of confiscations of supposed traitors’ estates in the last few years. A portion of every confiscated estate was supposed to be put aside to pay back the T’En, but Oskane did not know if any of the gold had reached them. With every estate that Charald confiscated, he and his supporters grew richer.

  The king’s need for gold was great. Aside from the repayments to the T’En, there was a grand new palace under construction. It would rival the palaces of the Wyrd city, and it had to be paid for somehow.

  Cold fear made Oskane’s skin clammy. He could not save Sorna.

  Nitzel stepped closer to the king, saying softly, ‘Etri assures me she’ll just fall asleep, sire. Women die in childbirth every day. No one will be surprised. Don’t worry.’ He placed a paternal hand on the king’s shoulder. ‘My daughter will make a good wife. She’s already produced two fine True-men sons. And they won’t be a nuisance. They’ll remain on their father’s estate.’

  ‘Your son-in-law is dead?’ Oskane asked, surprised.

  ‘Attacked by brigands on the road.’

  He’d heard nothing about this. Oskane opened his mouth, then closed it. He’d heard nothing, because it had not happened yet. Pity anyone who stood in Nitzel’s way.

  ‘The...’ – he stopped to clear his throat – ‘the roads are dangerous, since the king disbanded his forces. So many landless men, who know nothing but killing after twelve years of war.’

  He glanced to Sorna on the bed, dozing. She was exhausted by the birth. He could not save her, but he could save himself and the boy. If Sorna was not Charald’s queen, there was no point him staying in court. In fact, given his family’s fall from favour, he would be safer far away from here.

  In a way, it was a relief. As high priest
of the Father, greatest of the Seven, he was living a lie. He’d always felt a leaning towards the Scholar god, and now he could follow the way of the scholar. In his search for the Wyrds’ weakness, he might uncover proof of the gods. At heart, it was the Wyrds who had caused his loss of faith; how could he believe in powerful gods whose existence had to be taken on faith, while Wyrds with real powers existed alongside True-men?

  Oskane swallowed. ‘Please accept my condolences. If there is anything I can do...’ He let it hang and turned to go.

  ‘Actually, there is,’ Nitzel said.

  Oskane froze. By the time he’d turned around, his face was composed and calm. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Stay and give the queen your blessing, high priest.’

  ‘Of course.’ Sadistic bastard. Nitzel knew Oskane was fond of his cousin’s daughter.

  Oskane returned to the bedside. Etri was already there, offering Sorna a deadly paregoric to sootheher.

  He wanted to shout a warning and dash it from her lips, but he held his tongue.

  As King Charald watched Sorna drink without a flicker of remorse, Oskane was reminded how long and earnestly he and Nitzel had had to argue to convince the boy-king to authorise his bastard brother’s execution. The first time a man kills is always the hardest. Back then, every death had seemed justified, but it had led to this...

  ‘High Priest Oskane.’ Sorna smiled. ‘Where are the women? I want to bathe.’

  ‘All in good time. Rest now. I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep.’ I am a coward, Oskane thought as he settled his old bones on the chair by her bed. No, I am a survivor. I must survive to seek revenge on the man who undermined our family.

  Oskane had underestimated Nitzel. He hadn’t realised the baron would order the murder of his own son-in-law to further his family.

  Sorna’s gaze settled on the babe, who had drifted off. She yawned and fought sleep long enough to reach out and touch the newborn. A fond smile lit her face, and her eyes rose to meet Oskane’s. ‘Thank you.’

  He nodded, hardly able to see through his tears. He should never have suggested she would make a good queen; his ambition for the family had killed her.