16 ~ Betrayal

 

Talitha chose to receive Teirnon’s messenger in her chambers. Her girls had dressed her in flowing red silk robes that helped to bolster her confidence and hide her growing belly. Not that it could grow much more. Her daughter, Armina, would be born with the new moon.

Three tendays to wait; only three.

“Let him enter,” Talitha commanded.

Tymek opened the door, and a force commander wearing the black and gold armour of Tindebrai marched in carrying a wooden box. His stern features gave nothing away of his thoughts. He stopped the correct distance from Talitha and inclined his head in a brief bow. Very brief.

Talitha’s lips thinned at the implied lack of respect.

“High Lord Teirnon sends his regards. He bids me give you this gift and say: It is done as promised.”

Talitha did not rise from her chair. She nodded to Tymek to take the box and open it. He hesitated when the contents were revealed, then tipped the box so that Talitha could see inside. It contained the inexpertly preserved head of a man. Talitha recoiled, and quickly tried to hide her disgust, but she couldn’t prevent a cough escaping at the pungent odour of rot emanating from the box.

The messenger smiled.

“Methrym I assume?” Talitha asked, covering her nose and mouth with a hand, and coughing again.

A brisk nod.

Tymek quickly sealed the box, and put it on the balcony outside before closing the doors. The stench lingered, but it was less than before.

“You have proof it is he?”

Another crisp nod. “One of his men confirmed it.”

Talitha hadn’t seriously expected Teirnon to try to fool her, but the question had to be asked. So, the Butcher of Talayan was dead; a great moment, a turning point in the war even. Why then didn’t she feel happy, or at least, relieved?

“What else have you to report?”

“The High Lord gave me no other message.”

Talitha frowned. “None? Where is he now, and doing what?”

“The last news I have is old, but puts him in Tanjung advancing on the capital.”

“What of prisoners?”

The soldier cocked his head in question.

“Surely Methrym was not the only man captured.”

“Oh, those prisoners,” he said carelessly. “They are outside awaiting your pleasure.”

Was the man a fool? What if they rebelled, or tried to escape? “You brought them into my city?”

“To the palace,” he smiled as Talitha gasped. “They are guarded. They’ll not go anywhere, if that’s what concerns you.”

Talitha’s anger built at the contempt she imagined she heard in his voice. Hers remained steady, but inside she shook with fury. “I see.”

A little more than a year ago, she would have had him executed in the most painful way imaginable, and for much less reason than he had just given her. Now, she had to endure the indignity of his presence and pretend all was well.

Talitha stood with difficulty, waving Tymek away when he would have aided her. “Show me these oh so cooperative prisoners of yours. At once!”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed at the snap in her voice, but his supercilious smile quickly returned. He inclined his head, then about-faced and marched back the way he came.

Talitha’s eyes narrowed. She would not demean herself further by trying to keep up with him. In her condition, she would never do it. She allowed him his tiny victory, knowing that one word from her would be his death. And she would give that word, she suddenly decided, but later. Perhaps he would meet a stranger in an alleyway tonight. Even in Pura, such places could be dangerous. She glanced at Tymek keeping pace beside her, and recognised the anger in the bulging muscles of his jaw. Yes, very dangerous. It was time to let Tymek unleash some of the fury building in him.

Talitha left the palace, stepping into the dazzling sunshine of the courtyard and retched at the stench. She didn’t have time to be angry at the messenger’s quiet laughter, for she went quickly to her knees and vomited over the steps. There were at least a score of deep and wide-bodied wagons guarded by Tamorshin soldiers. All of the wagons were heaped high with the rotting heads of Methrym’s army. There must have been thousands of them. The buzzing of flies around the wagons nearly blotted out Nekane’s angry words.

“You dare! You dare do this to her! I will have you and your men executed! I’ll have your gizzards ripped out and fed to the dogs!”

Talitha pushed herself up to her knees, but sudden pain in her abdomen drove her to all fours again. She grunted with the force of it, and suddenly a hot flood between her legs splashed over the steps. Her waters had broken. Here of all places, surrounded by putrid horror and enemies, her labour had begun. 

“Little man,” the messenger said coldly. “Speak to me so again, and it will be your gizzard feeding the dogs. See to your mistress. She has made another mess on the steps.”

“Matriarch!” Nekane and Tymek cried together, rushing to her aid. “I’ll send for Wanikiya.”

Talitha clutched Tymek’s hand as a contraction forced another strangled groan from her. She wanted to push, she wanted to push right now, but she fought the compulsion. She would not give birth to Armina like this. Not like this, on the steps like a common slave.

“Tymek... take me inside... to… Wanikyaaaaa!” she screamed finally, as the next contraction had its way. “Armina...” she panted as another contraction built, “she comes early. Please don’t let me lose my baby!”

* * *

 

The God made the Matriarch perfect, she rules us by his will—a catechism that all Japuran children learned, whether high born or low, at an early age. Any called to serve her did so gladly, knowing beyond question that the God had willed it. Ishani and her sister were slaves born of slaves, but that didn’t mean they were different in this. They weren’t. They served the Matriarch and felt vastly honoured to do so.

Ishani awoke in Verner’s bed and quickly glanced at her sister to assure herself that Saffi was all right. The master, as Verner insisted they call him, had already left for the day, and Saffi still slept. It was strange how calling Verner the master rankled now. Strange, because it wasn’t an unusual requirement for a slave to call her owner, master.

At their last meeting, the Matriarch had chastised her for calling Verner her master. Since that day, she had ceased thinking of Verner that way. In her head, he was Verner, or the merchant, or more often the Rutting Pig. She had no master. Her mistress was none other than the Matriarch herself. She wanted to shout it from the highest rooftop and dance, but the Matriarch needed the secret kept. Remembering that, brought last night’s events crashing back into her awareness.

“Saffi,” Ishani whispered urgently. “Wake up!”

Saffi groaned, kicking the silk sheets off the bed and rolling onto her front. She shivered a little as the draft coming through the open windows caressed her nakedness. Early morning sunlight lit the room in golden hews, and the sounds of Pura waking drifted to them from the street outside.

“Why, is the master coming back for more?”

Ishani grimaced. That was one reason for the rutting part of her name for Verner. He was insatiable, and often bedded them both and then again the following morning.

“I hope not. We have to go to the palace.”

Saffi opened one eye. “You go, I’m tired.”

“We should both go. Something is going to happen. Something bad.”

That had an effect. Saffi sat up, kneeling upon the bed to face her. “What’s wrong? Did he do something to you before he called for me?”

“Nothing like that, he waited for you this time. It’s what I heard last night. Oh Saffi, I’m scared for the Matriarch. Verner means harm to her and the babe.”

Saffi squeezed Ishani’s hand. “Tell me everything.”

“He made me strip for his friends again.” She shrugged. That was nothing, and if the truth were told, she liked it that men desired her so much. It made them easier to control. “I brought food and wine for them. The strongest wine we have, like always. It didn’t take them long to forget I was there. They spoke about the war, how the High Lord duped the Matriarch into allowing his men to garrison the cities.”

“He said that? Those exact words, duped?”

Ishani nodded. “It can’t be true, can it?”

“Of course it can’t, the Matriarch is no fool.”

“Verner said she is. He said his men ambushed Strike Leader Wakiza on the road and made it look like Tanjung’s doing—”

Saffi hissed in surprise.

“He said Chamberlain Jarek is not ill, but poisoned! They all laughed about it. Verner is keeping Jarek barely alive on purpose. He said it hurts the Matriarch more that he lingers. He said she couldn’t think beyond her grief for Prince Ranen and Jarek, and while she pined away for lost love, Teirnon had taken Japura out of her hands without a fight. First the cities and ports, and then the smaller towns.”

“The God be with us,” Saffi whispered in horror. “It might be true. I heard that Orrisa has an army again. All Tamorin men they say.”

“He laughed at the Matriarch, Saffi! He called her stupid and talked of doing horrible things to her. The worst part came near the end. Verner said if the Matriarch did not have the babe soon, he would open her belly himself and rip it out of her! He said the empress had grown impatient and that if he didn’t produce the child soon, she would recall him to Amudai. They were so drunk at the end that I got dressed and snuck out to look for you.”

Saffi groaned, rocking to and fro. “What are we going to do? We have to get her out of the palace before the babe comes.”

“Where were you last night? We could have gone to her straight away, but I couldn’t find you.”

Saffi looked guiltily away.

Ishani knew then where her sister had been. She had been in another’s bed. Most likely Vasyl’s again. Vasyl served as Verner’s body slave.

“Oh Saffi, how could you? Verner caught me getting ready to go to the palace. If he hadn’t been so stupid drunk he would have realised.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He might have killed us both!”

“Keep your voice down,” Saffi hissed. “He still might.”

Ishani glanced worriedly at the door.

“We have to pretend nothing has happened. We can’t go yet, he’ll notice we’re gone. We have to wait until dark.”

“But—”

“No,” Saffi said emphatically. “The Matriarch must be warned. If we die, who will tell her?”

Ishani nodded reluctantly. “Tonight then.”

Ishani and her sister chose to wait until Verner sat down to eat, before trying to escape. Unless he had guests, he invariably ate alone, not requiring their services until he retired. That time was candlemarks away, but Ishani had decided not to take chances. Saffi would have talked her out of it if she had known, so Ishani didn’t tell her about the drug she slipped into Verner’s wines. It didn’t matter which one he chose to drink. She had taken no chances and drugged them all. She secretly hoped he might get drunk again, and die from overdose. She wished she had poison, and not simply a sleeping draft to make certain he would.

Ishani waited until sure Verner had drunk at least one glass of wine, before collecting Saffi where she waited in her room. With luck, he wouldn’t know they had left until well into the following morning… or never if he died. Please the God it would be never.

“Ready?” Ishani whispered.

“Are you sure about this?” Saffi asked, indicating the sheer and near transparent silks they wore.

Ishani had decided they should dress in their best and most seductive clothes, reasoning that if soldiers should stop them, they could use any distraction to their advantage.

“No one will stop us, Saffi. We are a powerful man’s pleasure slaves. Anyone seeing us will know it and let us go about our master’s business.”

“I hope so.”

“It will work,” Ishani said, leading the way. She hoped she wasn’t lying.

Pura’s streets were already dark as they made their way toward the palace gates. They walked arm in arm, keeping to the middle of the lanes they followed where the light of the moon lit their way. The city was already snuggling down for the night. The earlier crowds had thinned to nothing. The only people they met were a couple of slaves hurrying upon their master’s business, and a Tamorin patrol jogging in time through empty lanes. The soldiers grinned when they saw Ishani and her sister, but their discipline held them. They did not stop, and the sound of their boots pounding cobbles faded into the nighttime sounds of the city.

They continued on.

Ishani noticed the sound of footsteps behind her at the same moment as her sister. Saffi gripped her arm tighter to prevent Ishani voicing her discovery. Instead they increased their pace, hoping the sound belonged to an innocent pedestrian sampling the air on such a fine night.

No such luck, Ishani thought, as the steps behind them sped to keep up. She glanced back over her shoulder, saw a figure wearing a black cuirass appear out of the shadows, and started running—dragging Saffi with her—before she realised she had done so. He was close! How had he come so close before they heard him? It didn’t matter. The only thing that did was getting away and warning the Matriarch.

Ishani ran faster than she ever had, but Saffi was even quicker. It wasn’t long before Saffi was the one tugging Ishani along. They ducked into alleys and cross streets in an attempt to confuse their pursuer, and didn’t realise at first that they could no longer hear him behind them.

“Wait,” Ishani gasped, slowing to a walk. “Wait, Saffi. He’s gone... I think we lost him in the alleys.”

“You think?” Saffi panted.

“Listen.”

They strained to hear anything behind them. Ishani held her breath... and released it in a whoosh of mingled relief and asphyxiation. She gasped, holding her side where a stitch made her want to curl up and rest.

“He’s gone. Thank the God we lost him.”

Saffi nodded and leaned her back against the wall. “So are we. Lost I mean.”

“No, it’s all right. I remember the turns we took. Come on, its not far now. Just up ahead.” They continued on, and the palace plaza came into sight at the end of the street. Ishani breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the God for their safe deliverance. “There, I told you—”

Saffi clutched her arm as a Tamorin soldier stepped out of the darkness. There was an alley just there. He must have circled around and waited for them. Ishani pulled her sister back as he approached. Before they could say anything, another figure detached itself from the shadows and grappled with the Tamorin.

“Get to the palace,” the newcomer grunted, as he fought. “Go!”

Saffi made to run past, but Ishani held her back. “It’s Force Leader Tymek. We have to help him.”

“How?”

Before Ishani could think up an answer, Tymek swung his enemy around by one arm and slammed him face first into a wall. The clatter of metal armour against stone was very loud, and Ishani looked fearfully around, hoping no one would call the city patrol to investigate. Tymek rammed the Tamorin’s face into the wall repeatedly, until he stopped struggling, and then let him fall. He finished him off by expertly slitting his throat.

Saffi shook as Tymek glared at them for not obeying his order, but Ishani was not afraid. Her thoughts raced as she realised he was the perfect man to get them into the palace.

“We need to see the Matriarch. Will you help us?”

“Now you want to go to the palace, do you? Why not go when I told you to?”

Saffi shook her head, unable to answer.

Ishani lifted her chin defiantly. “You needed help.” Tymek snorted, but Ishani thought she detected a glimmer of respect in his eyes. Lust was there too of course. It always was when men looked at her, but from Tymek it caused a thrill of delight to shiver down her spine. “It’s done now. We should go before the patrol finds him. They passed this way not long ago.”

“I know,” Tymek said, cleaning his blade and sheathing it. “Come, we should go.”

“That’s what I just said!”

Tymek grinned, a flash of white teeth the only aspect of his features visible as they ran through the shadows of the plaza toward the palace gates.

* * *

 

“Out of the question!” Nekane whispered vehemently. “She is exhausted.”

Talitha looked tiredly toward the door. “Who is it, Nekane?”

“No one of importance, Matriarch. You should rest now.”

Talitha nodded and closed her eyes gratefully. She smiled at Wanikiya cooing over Armina from the other side of the room. She would make a fine nanny. Who better than a healer to watch over and safeguard the next Matriarch?

“No I said!”

Talitha sat up. “What is it? I can’t sleep with you arguing in the corner.”

Nekane’s eyes darkened and he bowed his head at her rebuke. “I am sorry, Matriarch. Tymek is here. He insists upon seeing you.”

“Bring him in then.”

“But… yes, Matriarch.”

Nekane opened the door, and Tymek marched in followed by a pair of pleasure slaves. Talitha’s eyebrows climbed at this, but then she recognised Ishani, and the other must be the sister. Saffi. Before Talitha could say a word, Ishani screeched like a harridan and flew across the room at Armina.

“My baby!” Talitha screamed.

Chaos erupted as Talitha leapt out of bed to defend Armina, or rather, she tried to. She became entangled in the sheets and tumbled ungracefully to the floor. Nekane jumped forward to catch her, and tripped, landing beside her. Tymek roared at the guards in the room, but to Talitha’s shock, he did not order them to attack the slave but to stand fast! Before Talitha could scramble to her feet, she heard a shriek of anger and a thump as two bodies fell, throttling each other.

Talitha finally untangled herself and ran to the crib where Armina still slept peacefully. She snatched up her child, and ran back to put the bed between her and the fighting women. She didn’t understand any of this. Armina opened her eyes and began seeking a nipple. When she found her way blocked by Talitha’s robe, she howled, turning red with her frustration.

“Guards!” Talitha screamed at the top of her voice. “Seize them!” Her guards ran forward and more poured through the door from the outer room, but they were uncertain who to call enemy. “Seize everyone! Tymek too. Everyone!

Only the dead would fail to obey the Matriarch in full vent of her fury, and perhaps not even they would do so more than once. The guards pounced on everyone, dragging them away from each other and forcing arms into painful arm locks behind their backs. Nekane howled in pain, but Tymek barely noticed his discomfit. He could have broken free easily enough, Talitha knew. He led her guard because he was the best man she had. He did not struggle. His eyes were calm and fixed approvingly on the Matriarch, current and future.

A guard hauled Ishani roughly away from Wanikiya, who despite her age had held her own in the fight. Though puffing from the exertion, she had enough breath to protest when a guard restrained her from going to Talitha’s side. Ishani spat hot words at the guard and Wanikiya. Kicking angrily, she glared hatefully at the healer promising retribution.

Armina continued howling, and Talitha finally had time to deal with her. She pulled her robe aside and offered a nipple. The noise cut off immediately, replaced by contended sucking.

Talitha glared around at the mess. Her room was a shambles and full of men in armour holding struggling prisoners. Ishani’s clothes, barely there to begin with, were disarrayed, and every man’s eyes were drawn to her curves. Talitha’s sense of humour finally gained ascendancy over her anger, and she saw the funny side of what had happened. Of course, Armina was safe and that made all the difference. It could so easily have been different. Her anger surged again and replaced all notion of anything at all funny in this situation.

“Release my chamberlain and the Force Leader. Hold the others.”

Nekane, wincing and working his arm free of pain, stepped clear of the guard who had held him. Tymek took his accustomed place near Talitha.

“I want answers, Force Leader, and I want them now.”

Tymek nodded. “The messenger is dead, Matriarch, as you ordered.”

“Good, but that is not what I meant.”

“No, Matriarch, but it has bearing. I found the messenger on his way to meet with the spy, Verner. As I prepared to make my attack, Ishani and her sister left the house on their way to meet with you. The messenger saw this, and as they were obviously going somewhere they shouldn’t be so late, he chose to follow.”

Ishani squawked in protest. “We were careful!” She blushed at Talitha’s sudden attention. “Forgive me, Matriarch.”

“Forgiven.”

Tymek continued his report. “I followed the messenger until it became certain he meant them harm, Matriarch. They led him a brave chase through the city, but by that time it became obvious they intended to reach the palace and you. He circled around and waited for them to approach the plaza. I killed him there.”

Talitha nodded. “A very concise report, Force Leader, but it does not answer any of my questions about what happened here. I am not accustomed to brawling in my bedchamber. It is not a tavern.”

“No Matriarch, of course it is not. I do not know why Ishani attacked your healer, but she would not do so without good reason.”

Talitha’s eyebrows climbed. “Indeed, would she not?”

Tymek vouching for a slave’s good intentions? That was a first in a day of firsts. She turned to regard Saffi, who had remained timidly silent. Ishani had always been the one to come to the palace and report, so it was to her that Talitha looked to for answers.

“Speak.”

“Oh, Matriarch, I don’t know where to begin. So much has happened.”

“Tell me all, and allow me to judge its merit.”

Ishani nodded. “I learned much yesterday, Matriarch, but could not come until tonight. I drugged the merchant so that Saffi and I could escape the house unseen. We dare not go back.”

“Drugged him? I specifically ordered you not to draw attention to yourselves.”

“I know, but we had no choice! Please, you must not let news of the babe leave the palace.”

Talitha frowned. “It is too late. I’m sure the entire city will know by morning. Everyone in the palace already knows, I am sure.”

Ishani slumped, and shook her head. “He will come here when he wakes. He will take your baby from you.”

“No one will take Armina from me,” Talitha said, her voice like ice. “No one would dare.”

“Verner will dare, Matriarch. He said if you did not have the babe soon, he would…” Ishani swallowed. “He said he would open your belly and rip her out himself. His empress has ordered it. He is terrified of her. He will not disobey.”

Talitha’s knees weakened and she sat hard upon the bed. Why would Empress Marzina order something like that? What possible gain could there be for Tamorin? Talitha shook her head when she realised how short-sighted her thoughts were. If she were to die, no mater how that be accomplished, Armina would succeed her as Matriarch. Marzina could mould Armina into whatever wished—a puppet ruler of Japura most likely. Talitha looked down at her beautiful daughter and shook her head in denial. No, it could not be true. Must not be true. No.

“No. It’s a lie.”

“It is no lie, Matriarch. I swear it upon my life and the God.”

“Marzina could not hope to rule Japura!” Nekane cried desperately. “The princes would not stand for it… the commoners would rebel against it!”

Talitha’s thoughts whirled in chaos. She tried to think. Tried to work her way through the puzzle and see a way out the other side of this disaster. Shock at the news and exhaustion from the birth befuddled her mind, and she struggled to think the implications through. Teirnon had rid her of Methrym, and if the messenger’s reports did not lie, he had continued into Tanjung. That meant… what did it mean? It meant…

I don’t know! Oh Ranen, help me! What should I do?

Teirnon had killed Methrym, he was killing Tanjuners; he was riding into Tanjung right this moment. That meant Teirnon was following orders… did it not? Maybe, but whose orders did he follow? Why had Marzina so readily agreed to aid her against Tanjung, and why hadn’t she bargained for something in return? Perhaps Japura itself was her price, one she would take by force. No! There must be a way to out, there must be!

“There is more, Matriarch. And worse,” Ishani said.

“Worse?” Talitha said faintly. “How can there be worse?”

“Verner ordered Strike Leader Wakiza killed. He covered it by making the attack look like a Tanjuner raiding party had stumbled upon him on the road.”

Tymek swore.

“God!” Nekane gasped. “It could be true. Remember, Matriarch, how we puzzled over how Methrym’s men could be in two places at once? It was always strange how easily those men disappeared after the attack.”

Talitha nodded numbly. Armina yawned and closed her eyes to sleep. Talitha watched her daughter breathe evenly, struggling with conflicting desires. She wanted to run away; far away where no one could hurt her baby, but Japura needed her. She had brought this ruin upon her people by asking Marzina for aid. Instead of suing for peace with Tanjung as Matriarchs had done before her, she had let her heart rule her decisions. She had to find a way out.

“Jarek…” Ishani said hesitantly and Talitha’s head snapped up at the name. “Matriarch I am sorry but Jarek…”

“What about him?” Talitha asked, her eyes flinty and dangerous.

“P-p-poisoned. Not ill, but poisoned.”

Talitha shook her head wordlessly.

“Lies!” Wanikiya spat. “She lies!”

Ishani straightened as far as the guard at her back would allow. “My life is the Matriarch’s, as is my sister’s life. I do not lie. I heard it from Verner’s own lips.”

“Then Verner is lying!” Wanikiya hissed, her eyes pleading with Talitha. “You know I would never do such a thing.”

Talitha nodded numbly, but a worm of doubt began eating into her certainty. She banished it by remembering all the years Wanikiya had served her. Wani would never harm a living soul. She was a healer before she was anything else. Wani had nearly refused to reside at the palace when Jarek fell ill because she feared the common people would stop asking for her help.

Talitha nodded again. Wani was beyond suspicion. “If not you, then it must be Hetha. Where is she?”

“Hetha would not do this, Matriarch! Please, this is a mistake. Jarek is not poisoned.”

“Liar!” Ishani spat. “Don’t trust her, Matriarch!”

Talitha stood, suddenly determined to learn the right of this. She moved toward the door. “Bring them!”

She stormed through the palace, with Tymek and his guards hurrying to keep pace. Armina slept through it all, content to be near her mother. Tymek gained a few paces and slammed open the door to Jarek’s rooms, and Talitha swept inside.

“Seize her!” Talitha ordered, and Tymek pinned Hetha against the wall.

“Matriarch?” Hetha said, trembling as the others filed in under guard. “Have I displeased you?”

Talitha sat upon the chair next to Jarek’s bed and cupped the old man’s cheek in her palm. He did not wake, but the glimmer of a smile appeared upon his lips.

“Wani, tell me again what is wrong with Jarek?”

“His heart, Matriarch,” Wanikiya said desperately. “He is old. It comes to us all. He will sleep more and more until one day…”

“He will not wake at all.”

“Yes, Matriarch.”

“Where is his medicine?”

“There, on the table.”

Talitha nodded, watching Hetha. “I see it. Is it harmful to me, to anyone not sick?” Hetha paled, and her shaking increased. “If I were to eat some of the powder, would it hurt me?”

“Matriarch, no!” Nekane said, shocked. “Let me do it.”

Wanikiya shook her head. “No, Matriarch. It would not harm you. The bark I use is good for other ailments. Pain in the joints and head… many other things if the right ingredients are added.”

Talitha nodded. “You made this then?”

“No, I mean…” Wanikiya glanced at Hetha. “Hetha makes it for me.”

“I see, and you let no one else care for him?”

“That was your order, Matriarch.”

Talitha crossed the room to the table. She wet a finger and stirred it in Jarek’s medicine. The powder adhered to her finger, and she raised it to her mouth.

“Don’t!” Hetha screamed.

Talitha lowered her hand. “Poisoned. Just as Ishani said. Guards, release the slaves, Wani too.”

Wanikiya stared at Hetha in stricken silence while the guards released the prisoners. Before anyone could stop her, she ran at Hetha and slapped her face. “How could you do this? We swear to do no harm! How could you do this?” She slapped Hetha again, but Tymek shoved her away before she could do any real damage. “How could you?”

Talitha wiped her hand clean upon the bed covers, feeling suddenly even more tired. Even her own people were betraying her. Perhaps it really was time to let the Matriarchy pass into the mists.

Armina squirmed in her arms, and Talitha felt her resolve harden. No, she would find a way out of this mess… but not here, she suddenly realised. Not in Pura. The city garrison were all Tamorin these days. Her only protection stood in this room and others of the palace. Teirnon had insisted that he needed to secure Pura as a link in his supply chain, and she had gone along, seeing his logic. She had foolishly felt safer with Tamorin soldiers guarding the docks and her city against Methrym. It almost made her laugh; she wasn’t safe anywhere Teirnon’s men held sway. Her hilarity died. Armina was no longer safe anywhere in Japura.

Unacceptable! Armina is everything.

“Matriarch?” Tymek said. “What are your orders?”

Talitha took a deep steadying breath. “Kill the betrayer.”

“Noooo!” Hetha screamed, her voice dying away into a gasp as Tymek slit her throat and let her fall.

Wanikiya shook her head, staring at her dying friend. “I don’t understand. Why did she do it, why?”

Talitha watched as Hetha bled out upon the floor. “We must leave the city. Leave secretly.”

“And go where?” Nekane asked.

“Into the countryside. Anywhere free of Tamorin soldiery.”

“There are few places like that any longer, Matriarch.”

Talitha glared at Nekane. “I know, but we have no choice.” She turned to Tymek. “Can you smuggle us out of the city?”

“If I strip the palace of men, it might be possible to get you away.”

“Not just me, all of us. Jarek too.”

“It’s too dangerous, Matriarch,” Nekane protested. “You go. Tymek can surely smuggle a single woman and child out easily, but not all of us!”

Talitha raised a hand to silence him. “I have lost too much already to risk losing you all as well.”

“I wish I were Jarek,” Nekane said grimly. “He would make you see that leaving us here is the best course.”

“But you are not, and you can’t. Tymek, we need to be gone tonight if you can, but no later than tomorrow night.”

“It will be tonight or never, Matriarch. You are forgetting Verner.”

Talitha nodded. “Tonight.”

* * *