It was all Kirven could do to walk down to the cells. All she could do to put one foot in front of the other and not collapse, her muscles weakened by grief and worry, her mind blanketed by it.
Rai Sorha had returned from Harn alone. All of her troops were dead.
Kirven did not care about the troops, soldiers died, it was what they were for. But Sorha had not brought back Venn. Her child. Kirven was torn between fury at Sorha for not bringing them back and self-hatred for letting Venn go with her. Why had she allowed it? Why had she let Venn convince her they were ready? Why had she let Sorha shame her into it?
She would find out what Sorha knew and make her pay for this. If her child was hurt, or worse – No, she could not think that. Either way, Rai Sorha was going to suffer a slow and painful death.
Outside the taffistone cells her guards stood silent.
“She is in there?” The guard bowed their head. “Did she struggle?” The guard shook their head. Kirven put her hand on the door. Paused. She would have expected Sorha to fight, Rai never gave in and she must know that her life was forfeit for this. Rai did not forgive failure, and neither did Kirven Ban-Ruhn.
Did Sorha consider her weak? The Rai had already failed once and Kirven had given her a chance. Did she think she would get another? She would not. Kirven would have Sorha’s skin. She opened the door, walked in. Sorha sat in the cell behind the taffistone with its faint blue glow – was it brighter? The Rai looked relaxed for a woman who must know her execution was coming.
“High Leoric,” she said, a crooked smile on her face. A bow of her head.
“You have failed me.” Kirven looked down on her. If she expected fear, or worry, or any form of contrition Sorha did not show it. She scratched her head, stood, her movements languid, uncaring.
“Oh, not only me, High Leoric. People much closer to you than I have failed you,” her voice a drawl. She smiled again, walked around the taffistone to the bars. Kirven could not understand what the Rai meant. How could she be so confident when she had failed so completely?
“What do you mean?”
“Your child betrayed you, betrayed me, betrayed all of us, High Leoric.” Kirven laughed, but it was a hollow, empty thing. It did not convince her and she doubted it convinced the Rai before her.
“You would say anything to stay alive, Sorha,” she said. “You may have lost your cowl, but you are still Rai.” Sorha nodded, put her hands on the bars of her cage. “I could have run, High Leoric,” she said, “but you and I, we are bound together, I think. You cannot afford me telling them about your traitor child. And I need a patron to survive in our cruel, cruel world.” Was Sorha laughing at her?
“You are a fool, Sorha,” said the High Leoric, “you should have run. Even if what you said about Venn is true there is a very simple way for me to be sure you never speak of it.” Kirven felt the woman’s confidence wavering. “And if it isn’t true, you are simply a failure.” She took a step back. “Either way the outcome is the same, we will not see each other again, Sorha Mac-Hean. You will end your days in a duller’s pod, I understand it is a very poor life.” If she expected the Rai to crumple the woman did not. She only stared at the High Leoric.
“I lied to you, Kirven Ban-Ruhn, High Leoric of Harn.”
“A strange thing to tell me now.”
“I did it to protect you.” Kirven knew she should go, not listen to what the woman said, but she could not. She was hypnotised by her and, besides, Sorha knew the answer to the only question Kirven had on her mind. The one that burned within her. “You want to know about your child? What they did? If they still live?”
She was trapped and she knew it. To ask was to give the woman a chance, and if given that chance Sorha might somehow get her hooks in. But if she was not here to get the answers she desired, why had she come down to the cells? A death sentence can be signed off anywhere.
“Tell me of Venn. I may make your death quick.”
“It is all bound up in the lie I told you.” Sorha turned and walked to the back of the cell, sat down. “Do you want to hear my lie?” A knife twisting in Kirven’s guts, the Rai trying to assert control even from a cell.
“Speak, or go straight to the duller.” Sorha stared at her, her mouth twisted, eyes blank.
“Venn never killed anyone in Harnwood, they never activated their cowl before Cahan Du-Nahere killed Rai Vanhu and Rai Kyik.”
“That is not what you said before.” Sorha shrugged.
“You had told everyone the child was Rai,” that half-smile again. “I went along with it to protect you.”
“That is your story?” Kirven made the words into a laugh. Though within she felt as if she were turning to stone. Events had got out of control. Venn’s cowl activating had left her feeling almost secure, almost sure she had found safety.
“Why do you think I was so desperate for them to come with me to Harn,” Sorha pointed through the wall towards where Kirven presumed the faraway village must be. “I intended to finish what Vanhu had started. For you, Kirven.” She managed to look contrite, staring down at the floor. “But I did not know the child was duplicitous, traitorous.” Kirven could not breathe, could not speak. Inside she was screaming. Venn was her child, what they did reflected on her. Treachery in Crua meant death.
“Or you lie,” said Kirven. “To save your skin.”
“I had the false Cowl-Rai. Caged. Ready to bring back to you,” she nodded at Kirven. “The whole village were cowed, easy meat. I was going to bring them all back in chains, so you could show what happened to those who betrayed you.” Kirven stared, said nothing, would not ask. “Venn let him out.”
“No,” said Kirven. She could not move. Could only speak that one word. “No.”
“Yes,” said Sorha, she came to the bars again. An air of desperation as she spoke? Maybe. “Look into my eyes, High Leoric, you will find no lie.” She did. Kirven was not sure that you could really see a lie in another’s eyes, but she found herself believing the woman despite herself. She wanted to weep, to rend her hair, but not here, not in front of this woman.
“This is excuses. To cover your failure.” Sorha shook her head.
“The trion is important, I knew that.” The two women were near enough to kiss, staring into each other’s eyes, but there was no passion there, no heat, only ice. “Venn sneaked back into the village, to betray us and free the villagers. I had used them to entice Cahan Du-Nahere back. He is powerful, High Leoric, very powerful.” She leaned back a little, let go of the bars. “But the dullers did their work. We fought, he and I, one on one.”
“And you lost.” Sorha shook her head.
“No, I beat him. I am better than him.”
“And yet here you are.”
“He had followers.” Kirven was finding it hard to breathe, the cell room felt small, overly hot. She could not have a real threat to the Cowl-Rai rise, not here, not where she ruled. “Two women stood by him, grey-skinned, fought like demons. Unnatural. I think he is in league with the Osere, using strange creatures come from below. They killed all your soldiers, drove me away. Did not die when they should have.” Kirven swallowed. Forced herself to stand straighter.
“You think this story will save your skin? You still failed, you still lost my child.”
“You need me,” said Sorha.
“Why?”
“Because you have been insulted by Harn and you cannot let that pass or you look weak. And Venn has made you look weak before the Rai, and that cannot pass either. You stand teetering on a pin, Kirven Ban-Ruhn. It is only a matter of time before the Rai make a move on you once they find out you failed again. The only way to show your strength now is to march on Harn, crush it. Bind your child and force them to obey you. Show strength.” She leaned forward, her voice soft, a smile on her lips. “But you cannot march on Harn without taking the Rai, they will be insulted if you do. It is when you tell them Harn stood against you, that you will be at your weakest.”
“I will take dullers, my own guard and…”
Sorha licked her lips. “Galderin, will want to lead, and he will not take dullers with him, not have his power cut off or use anything that suggests he needs help, like your guard.” Sorha stared at her. Kirven hated her in that moment, for her confidence, for being Rai, and most of all for being right. “You are trapped, between staying here and being deposed because you look weak, or marching on Harn with overconfident Rai and dying. Galderin may even kill you on the journey.” She stepped back again, much calmer. “Cahan Du-Nahere is Cowl-Rai, High Leoric. Without dullers he will take power from some villager and tear your forces apart. But I am a walking duller. I will protect you not only from Du-Nahere, but from your own Rai. Only I will be able to face the Forester of Harn and live.” A sudden desperation in her voice. “Kirven, together we can spin a story to the Rai of what happened that does not make you look a fool.” The High Leoric stared at Sorha. Counting in her head. Fighting back a dizziness, determined not to show weakness no matter how much panic roiled beneath her skin.
“Or I could never go back to Harn,” she said, and as the words came out of her mouth they felt like an option. “This Cahan Du-Nahere, he has never attacked us, he has only ever reacted. If I tell the Rai Venn is dead and this Cahan with them. That you and the trion died for the new Cowl-Rai, if we never go back he might simply never bother me again.” Sorha pushed herself against the bars.
“How will the Cowl-Rai react, when they find you have lost their trion?”
“There are other trions,” said Kirven. “The Rai are long-lived. Patient.”
“This is not the way Rai act,” hissed Sorha. “We attack, we face our problems.”
“But Sorha,” said Kirven. “You forget, I am not Rai.” The woman looked shocked, her eyes momentarily widening, and then Kirven turned and walked away. “And neither are you.” As she opened the door Sorha began to shout.
“You need me! You will need me!” Kirven ignored her, walking down the corridor. The silent guards said nothing, did nothing as Sorha’s shouts followed her. She would have to face Galderin, tell them something. Have to inform the Cowl-Rai and Tiltspire. Everything was spinning out of control. The High Leoric turned the corner, passed from view of the silent guards and felt as if she were falling. As if a great wind were rushing past her. Fear coming up on her as hard and certain and final as the ground. Her muscles gave way, she made a fist and pushed it against her mouth as she crumpled to the floor. Biting on her knuckles to stifle a scream. Tears flowing as she sobbed, so deeply and so hard that it shook her entire body, and all she could say was one word.
A name.
“Venn,” she said, and it was not anger that came close to overwhelming her, but guilt.