1618686836 (F) (27 page)

Despite the apparent cold, colour rose to Maertn's cheeks.

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but we're close to having Sammah right where we need him."

"What about the threats to everyone? To Shiver, and Quinn, and all the other murders?"

"The murders have stopped for now. I think it's safe to assume Sammah has rid himself of anyone he thinks might talk about Quinn. The rest of us are considered either too useful or too trapped to move against him right now. His overconfidence is going to be his downfall. Sammah has been planning this for years, and now the time is coming for him to start moving his pawns in to place, he's going to find that the board has changed somewhat. Most of that is down to Quinn's change. Maertn told me about it, Quinn. He also told me about that book. We need to find it. There are weaknesses in there. Sammah wouldn't hide it so much, otherwise. It has to hold information about you that we can use."

"Don't you have any contacts in Sha'sek that you could use?"

Ross shook his head. "I do, but it's too dangerous. All of the correspondence between the two kingdoms is monitored. Sammah has ways and means of getting information past those guards, but that is only because his brother is the ruler of one of the strongest city states. I was a mercenary. All the dirty routes I had to pass information were closed down long ago.

Now, Sammah believes that he has me cornered, and that Eden is loyal, whether he wants to be or not. He thinks the same about you, Quinn. The only person that seems to be completely out of Sammah's scope of vision is Maertn. Do we know why?"

Maertn made a face. "I'm obviously not as important as empaths, lords, and mysterious war mercenaries."

Quinn clicked her fingers. "You're a level for me. That's why you haven't been mentioned. You've not disrupted Sammah; you said the right things in court. The only involvement you've had, as far as he knows, is to stop me from leaving the castle that night. As far as Sammah is aware, you're still loyal, and that is not going to change. Despite knowing the truth."

"Doesn't that make him the most vulnerable, though?" Eden asked "If Sammah knows that Maertn has such an influence over you, he's going to think the relationship works both ways. He could try to use Maertn's safety against you."

"He already has, in a way. I think that, if Maertn hadn't been here I would have already left, and Sammah knows that. Maertn is his best leverage against me. If all else fails, then you will be in direct harm, Maertn. I believe he wants an empath more than he wants a healer. Does that scare you?"

"All of this scares me. In the past moon, I've performed a healing on my best friend when I didn't know what I was doing. I've seen her pass out in a stampede of men and stopped her from running away from home. I've found out that she's a mysterious killer—except that she isn't—and that I'm not a fantastic student, just a healer by birth. I've found out that Ross didn't fight for Everfell in the war, and everyone I thought was loyal to the king is just waiting for him to die or be ousted. Broc and Sirah have been murdered, and men keep on turning up dead. Through all of this, no one has asked me what I thought, or what I felt, not really. So yes, I'm scared.

But I'm not someone that Sammah is either interested in manipulating, or waiting to kill. I've just been able to carry on healing people, reading my books and seeing my friends. For that, I'm grateful. And I'm willing to do anything needed to make sure we bring an end to Sammah and his plots."

"And what do you think, Eden? I think, except Quinn, you stand to lose the most. When Shiver's involvement with Sammah comes out, your family stands to lose its standing."

"I haven't had a part in that. Rowan is old enough to inherit. The sons shouldn't be held to account for the crimes of the father."

"No. But the world does not always work that fairly, and that is not an answer to my question. I asked you what you think."

"I'm scared, too. I came to Everfell this year expecting another boring meet. I was preparing myself for a torturous time of waiting on my father as he drank and whored his way through the majority of the court women, until he got bored or ill and decided to come home. That's what usually happened—or at least that's how it seemed to my younger eyes. What do I find instead? I...well I don't need to tell you, do I? I have been so desperate to please my father for so long that I haven't seen what was beneath my nose the whole time. The shadow of the Lord of Sevenspells is getting long and fat. I've stepped out from underneath it, and I prefer what I see. I'll do what it takes to bring justice to Sammah. Even if it means my father is implicated, and he loses his seat. For his greed, he deserves whatever the law brings to him."

"And you, Quinn? Of all of us, you could lose the most?"

"I don't have a choice, do I? I'm the Satori. I'm the one Sammah has used. It's my fault that he's been able to blackmail the lords for so long, and that he has the power he does. He's going to keep on using me until I'm past my purpose, and then he's going to kill me. I can't cross the border, and I can't leave Everfell, not knowing everything I do now. I have to stay here, because he has to be defeated. And I have to be the one that does it."

"It's going to happen quickly. When we act, it will be perhaps less than two days before Sammah realises what is happening. You won't have long to prepare. Are you sure you want to do this Quinn?"

Her green eyes glistened with tears. Ross couldn't tell whether they were happy or sad, and seeing them crushed a corner of his heart. "Since when have I ever been given a choice?"

"Right now, Sammah isn't giving anyone a choice. And what do animals do when they are trapped?"

Eden grinned. "They bite."

41

"Do they all think you're supporting them, then?"

Ross took a sip of water. "Aye. They were hanging on my every word. It was inspirational. Poets will sing about it one day."

"It's a shame none of it was true."

Ross fingered the pouch of coins in his lap. It was heavy. He smiled through gritted teeth. "You know me, Sammah. Once a mercenary, always a mercenary."

"I have to take my leave. Finish that. See yourself out."

Sammah rose and headed towards his bathing room. Even his statuesque mercenary, usually ever-watchful, left Ross to his own devices. Ross's eyes roved around the room, allowing himself to relax in to the chair and take in the luxury which Sammah allowed himself.

This room was a world away from what Sammah would have enjoyed—or perhaps more endured—in his life in Sha'sek. Ross's own quarters reflected more accurately what their status was in their native society. Ross hadn't been Sha'sek by birth, but his parents had moved their early on in life, preferring its open society and warmer climates. Despite his size and the colour of his skin, Ross considered himself more Sha'sek than Everfell, though his years spent with both sides meant he could empathise with each side of the border. For a long time, he had resented the power that Sammah was clearly nurturing. He had been powerless to stop the rise of the baron; a mere mercenary, with all the lords knowledgeable of his past, he would have little to no credibility in exposing the wanton ambition and greed; he would just be accused of harbouring his own type of greed. The pouch that lay in his lap told him just how much Sammah respected him now, more than words ever could. Ross grasped it hard. Accepting this pouch had never been his intention. He wanted the words he had exchanged between Eden, Maertn and Quinn to be true. The hope on their young faces; the expectation that they had a strong ally, and he would provide them with a route to success, was unbearable. Quinn and Maertn especially, whom he had seen grown and somehow flourish under Sammah's harsh patronage. Telling Sammah that he had been seeing them as part of a wider and more elaborate plot had been Ross's way of gaining Sammah's trust. He couldn't have met so frequently with them without it coming to Sammah's attention otherwise.

All around him there were reasons why he should help Quinn. Apart from the obvious; Ross did not want to see a man like Sammah condemn a girl—woman—like Quinn to death for his own gain; Sammah had an insatiable greed. It was there in his exquisite hanging rugs, his expansive hardwood table, polished and immaculate. It showed in his taste in wine, and the size of his suite. It was seen with his personal retinue, hand-picked and voluntarily mute, following wordlessly their master's every command. Sammah was building his own empire in Everfell. It started with these suites. With men like Shiver having his ear, it would not end with the throne room. Sammah was ambitious enough to want it all, and he had the cunning to take it.

Ross shook with adrenalin at the thought of finally standing in this man's way; he relished, for once in his life, the opportunity to do the right thing and for the right reasons, not for cold hard coin. Standing, he moved over to Sammah's bookcases. Neither Eden nor Quinn had had the chance to get this close and retrieve the book. Well, Eden had, but he hadn't been able to sway the conversation his way, Sammah instead bullying the young lad in to the direction the baron wanted. Typical of him, really.

Ross ran his eyes along the rows of volumes. None fit the description he was after; a large volume bound in old green leather. Massive in its size, and therefore apparently easily distinguished from Sammah's other tomes. The problem was, that there was just so many of the damn things. Getting more and more nervous as he heard movements from Ross's bathing rooms, he downed the rest of his water and placed the glass on the table, getting ready to make a hasty exit if it was required. Eyes working like wild wind, he saw what he needed on the top shelf, to the top left. It was part of the bookshelf next to the bathing room door, so he would have to be quiet if he were to get it without Sammah knowing. He peered up on his toes. There was disturbed dust around the shelf. It had been placed here only recently, but the buildup to each side of the slot indicated that Sammah did not need to refer to it often. Perhaps they would have more than the day or so that he had guessed, but they would have to act quickly whether Sammah identified that the book was gone or not.

Ross wrapped his giant hand around the spine of the volume. Maertn had done well to heft this—Ross could barely get his fingers around it, the text was so thick. Sliding it out of its place, Ross watched the other books to make sure that none would collapse in its place. Thinking on his feet, he grabbed a couple of smaller volumes from the lowest shelf, well out of eye level, and filled the gap he had left behind. Grasping the precious book from the table, he made a sharp exit out of Sammah's suites, which had suddenly become hot, uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

Panting heavily as he moved through the halls to his own quarters, he kept on looking nervously over his shoulder. The back of his head tingled irrationally, as if someone watched him go the entire way. He kept on expecting to see Elias, somehow freed from the gaol and bearing down on him. Or even an entire cluster of Sammah's silent and deadly mercenary assassins. No one came. When a dog scampered out of the rooms and into his legs, Ross nearly jumped out of his skin. He was followed by Grainne, who knocked into her master without looking up. She dropped a bundle of cloth in her hand, and Ross dropped the volume into them.

“I’m sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!”

Ross crouched down, picked up the volume and bundling the cloth into his arms. “Don’t worry girl, nothing’s broken. It’s fine.”. He looked back over his shoulder. There was still no one coming. His nerves were bending beyond reason, now. “Get the dog, and I’ll take this to the cleaning ladies. It’s been spoiled by the floor. We can’t use it in the rooms. Go on, quickly now.”

Stooping and bowing, scraping herself away down the corridor, Grainne turned on her heel and sprinted after the dog. Ross looked up at the door, and the emblem hanging outside it; Sevenspells. No, he wouldn't want one of his girls to lose a pet from that court, either. Gathering the cloth together, Ross hid the volume in its folds. He strolled now, more at ease, looking far more normal to the casual eye with a bundle of material in his hand than he would an old volume of work that, when opened, would undoubtedly reveal itself to be from Sha'sek.

Ross may have looked calm, but inside, his palpitations did not stop until he reached the safety of his room. Closing the door behind him, he placed his precious bundle on the table and scrutinised every dark corner of his sparse space with a candle. He even checked under his cot, though what kind of threat could have lived there remained to be seen. Satisfied that he had neither been followed nor tricked, Ross went back to his table. Hand shaking, he filled a wooden cup with water and took some unsteady sips. His hand shook, with droplets of water splashing to the dusty floor. Still shaking, Ross placed the cup down on his desk. Water wasn't going to calm his nerves, and if he spilt it on any of the ink, even if they could replace the book without Sammah identifying it was gone, the baron would eventually find out that someone had taken his invaluable and mysteriously private text.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Ross peeled back the dusty linen to reveal the cover of the book. It was decorated with thick gilding. It was written in the dialect of Sha'sek, rather than the common tongue both lands more recently shared. That was an indicator of either the text's age, or its contents. No one in Everfell, that had always lived in Everfell, had ever taken the time to learn the exaggerated and complicated script of the Sha'sek. Even some natives to the land never learned to write it, only to speak its lilting and hauntingly beautiful tones. As a mercenary, Ross had learned the hard way the importance of knowing the deals you were signing. Corruption was a trait common to all men, and more than one baron had tried to deceive him with clauses in fighting contracts that they had expected him, as a common-born fighter, to be unable to read. Ross traced his fingers along the shapes of the words. It had been a long time since he'd read anything in Sha'sek. It was like receiving a visit from a long-buried and unwanted ancestor.
The Growth of the Gifted
was the simple title. It seemed innocuous enough, but its connotations set Ross's hairs on end. No text of this size was so simple.