It had been a shock when Kirven was told the Rai Sorha had returned. Her Rai, Galderin, loudest among them, was adamant she must die for failing Kirven in the forest, for allowing a prisoner to outwit her. Curiously, none of them were willing to do it themselves. There was much talk of how this was the High Leoric’s responsibility, justice was hers and she must see it done.
It was not how they usually spoke, and that made her curious.
Kirven had gone away to look into Sorha, researched the woman’s family in case they were powerful, likely to want revenge for a fallen child. They were not. It seemed that she was all that was left of them.
Something was wrong but Kirven did not know what. She had the woman Sorha moved to the taffistone cell under the watchful eye of the silent guards of the Cowl-Rai while she considered her fare. And now she visited.
Sorha was a very different woman from the one Kirven had seen before. She looked broken, sat in the back of the cell, clad in nothing but a thin woollen shift. Too dejected even to shiver. Her red hair streaked through with grey.
“Rai Sorha,” said Kirven, the woman looked up. Her face drawn.
“High Leoric,” she answered. Even here, at the lowest she could possibly be, Kirven was sure she detected a hint of sarcasm.
“You have failed me, Rai Sorha. You have failed me twice.” The Rai shrugged. “But I have come to give you a chance to redeem yourself.” Still the Rai did not look at her. “I want to know what happened,” said Kirven, raising her voice. “What happened after Venn made their first kill.” Sorha looked up.
“First kill?” she said. Kirven nodded.
“Yes, once my child had woken their cowl, how did this man, this Cahan Du-Nahere, best three of my strongest Rai?” Sorha smiled, an odd, fleeting and twisted thing. She stood and approached the taffistone.
“What is it worth to you?” said Sorha. “What will you do for me?”
“A quick death.”
“Oh, I want more than that. I want to live.”
“I hardly think you are in a bargaining position.”
“All Rai know secrets, High Leoric,” that smile again. Kirven wanted to smash it off her face.
“Your failures almost cost my child their life.” Sorha’s smile remained and she sat back down.
“After your child made their kill,” a short laugh. No humour there. “Well, this man, Cahan, you called him?” Kirven nodded. Sorha did not even seem to remember she had been sent to kill him in Harn. “He had been shouting, screaming. Threatening. Vanhu decided to teach him a lesson. Burn him slow.”
“And?” said Kirven.
“It did not work out well for Vanhu. For any of us.”
“Explain.” Sorha looked up.
“I have hunted false Cowl-Rai for, what, two years?” Kirven nodded. “Found mostly people disliked by others. Or weak with barely a sniff of a cowl in them, easy to subdue.” Sorha stopped, looked down, took a breath. “I think we had become complacent, High Leoric. This man, this Cahan, he took us apart. I have seen nothing like it. He did not use fire or water, he did things I cannot even understand. And that was before…” her voice died away, all her sarcasm and surety vanished. Sorha sounded like nothing so much as a woman deep in the throes of grief. She looked up. “Before he did what he did to me.” Kirven studied her, she felt little pity for the woman. Whatever had been done was her own fault.
“Venn says they escaped because this Cahan was wounded. They think he lies dead in the forest.” Sorha shook her head.
“No, not dead. Not with strength like that.” She sounded almost desperate, and Kirven wondered why. Then realised this woman was Rai.
“You hate him, don’t you?”
“I am nothing because of him.” The words sharp and full of hate.
“Why?”
“He took my cowl.” Kirven had no reply to that. She did not even know it was possible. Suspected Sorha of some trick. But she knew a way to test her.
“I want you to swear fealty to the Cowl-Rai,” said Kirven.
“I have already sworn loyalty.”
“And failed them, twice.”
“I have been most thoroughly punished for that mistake, High Leoric.”
“Swear it again. On the taffistone before you, in the name of Tarl-an-Gig.”
“Why?”
“I will let you live.” Sorha looked at her. “You will be banished, but you will live.” The Rai stood. Walked to the taffistone and put her hand on it.
“I swear allegiance to the Cowl-Rai and Tarl-an-Gig, Osere take me if I lie,” she said. Kirven waited, nothing happened. She had expected something, for the taffistone to have some effect on her. “You look disappointed, High Leoric, did you not think me loyal?”
“That stone,” said Kirven, “it turns cowl users into either Hetton or dullers. I did not expect you to still be standing.” Sorha looked at her, her face changing from outrage at being treated so, to amusement. Then she started to laugh. A real laugh, from her stomach, shaking her body.
“Your own Rai,” she said, “who you think to trust, and they did not tell you the truth of me, did they? Why they are not here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what Cahan Du-Nahere did to me in taking my cowl? He made me a duller, Kirven Ban-Ruhn, a living, walking duller. Not just a barely conscious corpse in a box. That is why they will not kill me, they cannot. Their power does not work around me.” She shook her head. “I am tired of this, my life is a miserable one so if this was a trick and you want me dead, hurry up and do it.” Kirven was no longer listening to her. She was thinking. A woman with all the martial skills of the Rai, but able to neutralise their powers. She would make a formidable bodyguard. But more than that, who better to hunt down false Cowl-Rai?
“I promised you your life if you swore allegiance,” said Kirven.
“In an attempt to kill me.”
“Tell me, Rai Sorha, what is the first thing you will do if given your freedom?”
“Find Cahan Du-Nahere, repay him for what he has done to me,” she said, no thought, no question. No doubt in Kirven’s mind that this woman cared of little else but vengeance.
“Where?”
“I would start at his farm, the village of Harn.” So she did remember, that failure must fester within her now. “He may have gone back there if he thinks we believe him dead.” Kirven tapped her foot, thinking.
“Thirty troops, Rai Sorha, I will give you that. Find him. Kill him.” Sorha stared at her.
“I want to take the trion as well.”
“No,” said Kirven. Sorha walked around the taffistone, came right up to the bars.
“In the forest, High Leoric, this Cahan seemed more bothered about Venn being forced to kill than he was about himself. He is weak, he cares for others. He will not hurt Venn and that will allow me to get close to him.” She grinned but there was nothing pleasant there. “Then he is only a man. Easy prey.” Kirven stood, thinking. She could not keep Venn away from the world forever. And if they went with Sorha, and killed this false Cowl-Rai, it would make them far stronger in the eyes of the Rai of Harnspire. But no. Venn would not want to, she was sure. Even if they did, she did not want them to go.
“I will speak with them,” she said.
“And I will need time, to train. Get my strength back.” She took a breath, looked away. “And to come to terms with what I am.” Kirven stared at her, she did not want to give this woman time. She wanted Sorha out there, finding him. “The longer he is left alone, the more complacent he will become, High Leoric.”
“Or the longer he has to vanish into Crua.”
“If he is going to hide,” said Sorha, “he will already be doing so.” Kirven thought about that. If she sent out the woman weak she was sure to fail.
“How long to build your strength?”
“Two seasons,” said Sorha.
“A year? No, you have until Mid-Harsh.” Sorha stared at her, smiled.
“Well, that will have to do.”
“Now, Rai Sorha,” she said, “I must go about finding you troops to train with.”