‘What shall we do?’
He studied her as she spoke. Her Rondian was stilted, and she spoke in a thick Lakh accent, with heavy emphasis on the first syllable and a sing-song lilt that was accentuated by the way she waggled her head slightly as she spoke. She was about as tall as a fourteen-year-old in Noros, but apparently in her land she was full-grown.
But what she did to that Inquisitor …
He had learned of pregnancy manifestation in college: a human woman could develop a weak form of the gnosis from bearing mage-children. But Ramita Ankesharan was bearing the children of Antonin Meiros and there was nothing weak about her gnosis!
She’s going to give birth soon
. The weight of his responsibilities felt enormous. ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘Cym took the Scytale to give to her mother – that was as far as our planning went.’ He shuddered at the memory of Justina Meiros’ death. ‘That’s all gone now.’
Ramita nodded composedly. ‘My husband told me that if something happened to him, I should go to Vizier Hanook, the adviser to the Mughal of Lakh, so that is my intention. But I am aware that it may not be yours.’
Alaron bit his lip. ‘When we were in Norostein trying to work out what to do with the Scytale, we pledged to protect it, and only let people we trust use it. There was General Langstrit, Captain Muhren, Cym, Ramon and me. Just the five of us. Langstrit and Muhren are dead now, Cym’s either dead’ – he swallowed – ‘or she’s a prisoner, and I have no idea where Ramon is.’
‘I too have lost everyone. I do not even know this Hanook. But my husband trusted him and that is enough for me, at least until I can go home.’
Home
. Alaron was almost overwhelmed by the mere thought. He pictured lush green fields, and mountains glistening with snow. Familiar faces and voices. Buildings hewn from the rock, cobbled streets. His father.
Where’s my father?
For the first time it occurred to him that Vann Mercer might be in trouble too – if the Inquisition were hunting one Mercer, surely they’d be hunting them all … Ramon too, perhaps.
But what can I do? If I try to warn either of them, I might draw the Inquisitors to us
.
He quietly kissed goodbye to the lingering daydream that one day he might return to Silacia, to find a certain girl. A cheeky face with smiling eyes danced into his mind: Anise, whose life he’d saved.
I’ve got Inquisitors after me, and there is no way they’ll let me live, even if I go to them of my own free will and hand them the Scytale. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to have that life …
He quietly resolved to go on and hope a solution presented itself, though that meant going into an alien land where he knew nothing and no one. ‘Ramita, whomever I give this Scytale to will become like a god. I don’t know how it works, but there are people out there who do and if they got hold of it, they could become as powerful as the Emperor of Yuros. So I can’t just give it to a stranger, just to be rid of the burden. And you need my help, for now at least.’
‘I do,’ Ramita said softly. She took his hand. ‘Al’Rhon, I know you don’t believe me, but Destiny has brought us together. My husband was very wise, and a great prophet. He told me to trust Vizier Hanook with his own children – might not the vizier also be the right person to trust with the Scytale?’
‘I don’t
know
,’ he burst out, ‘I don’t know
him
– I’ve never even heard his name before! He’s not even from Yuros.’
‘Does that matter?’ she asked sharply.
He coloured. ‘No … I suppose not. But the Scytale could create a monster – if I give it to the wrong person …’
‘Then come with me and find out. My husband foresaw me going to the vizier. Come with me to Teshwallabad and at least see if he is the right man to trust with your burden.’
He stared away into space for a few moments, then made up his mind. ‘All right. I’ll come with
He studied her as she spoke. Her Rondian was stilted, and she spoke in a thick Lakh accent, with heavy emphasis on the first syllable and a sing-song lilt that was accentuated by the way she waggled her head slightly as she spoke. She was about as tall as a fourteen-year-old in Noros, but apparently in her land she was full-grown.
But what she did to that Inquisitor …
He had learned of pregnancy manifestation in college: a human woman could develop a weak form of the gnosis from bearing mage-children. But Ramita Ankesharan was bearing the children of Antonin Meiros and there was nothing weak about her gnosis!
She’s going to give birth soon
. The weight of his responsibilities felt enormous. ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘Cym took the Scytale to give to her mother – that was as far as our planning went.’ He shuddered at the memory of Justina Meiros’ death. ‘That’s all gone now.’
Ramita nodded composedly. ‘My husband told me that if something happened to him, I should go to Vizier Hanook, the adviser to the Mughal of Lakh, so that is my intention. But I am aware that it may not be yours.’
Alaron bit his lip. ‘When we were in Norostein trying to work out what to do with the Scytale, we pledged to protect it, and only let people we trust use it. There was General Langstrit, Captain Muhren, Cym, Ramon and me. Just the five of us. Langstrit and Muhren are dead now, Cym’s either dead’ – he swallowed – ‘or she’s a prisoner, and I have no idea where Ramon is.’
‘I too have lost everyone. I do not even know this Hanook. But my husband trusted him and that is enough for me, at least until I can go home.’
Home
. Alaron was almost overwhelmed by the mere thought. He pictured lush green fields, and mountains glistening with snow. Familiar faces and voices. Buildings hewn from the rock, cobbled streets. His father.
Where’s my father?
For the first time it occurred to him that Vann Mercer might be in trouble too – if the Inquisition were hunting one Mercer, surely they’d be hunting them all … Ramon too, perhaps.
But what can I do? If I try to warn either of them, I might draw the Inquisitors to us
.
He quietly kissed goodbye to the lingering daydream that one day he might return to Silacia, to find a certain girl. A cheeky face with smiling eyes danced into his mind: Anise, whose life he’d saved.
I’ve got Inquisitors after me, and there is no way they’ll let me live, even if I go to them of my own free will and hand them the Scytale. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to have that life …
He quietly resolved to go on and hope a solution presented itself, though that meant going into an alien land where he knew nothing and no one. ‘Ramita, whomever I give this Scytale to will become like a god. I don’t know how it works, but there are people out there who do and if they got hold of it, they could become as powerful as the Emperor of Yuros. So I can’t just give it to a stranger, just to be rid of the burden. And you need my help, for now at least.’
‘I do,’ Ramita said softly. She took his hand. ‘Al’Rhon, I know you don’t believe me, but Destiny has brought us together. My husband was very wise, and a great prophet. He told me to trust Vizier Hanook with his own children – might not the vizier also be the right person to trust with the Scytale?’
‘I don’t
know
,’ he burst out, ‘I don’t know
him
– I’ve never even heard his name before! He’s not even from Yuros.’
‘Does that matter?’ she asked sharply.
He coloured. ‘No … I suppose not. But the Scytale could create a monster – if I give it to the wrong person …’
‘Then come with me and find out. My husband foresaw me going to the vizier. Come with me to Teshwallabad and at least see if he is the right man to trust with your burden.’
He stared away into space for a few moments, then made up his mind. ‘All right. I’ll come with
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