Crowchanger (Changers of Chandris) (33 page)

BOOK: Crowchanger (Changers of Chandris)
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Deygan called for guards and the same two reappeared, their eyes flicking briefly to Ayriene’s corpse, then sliding away. Their masks of disinterest never faltered.

“Call Lord Casian. I have a job for him. And take this away and dispose of it.” His hand waved at Ayriene’s body. “Is there anything of hers you wish to keep, young Chesammos?”

Ayriene had a pipe, but Sylas could not use it and would not dream of trying. That was for masters only. But there was one thing.

“Her pack, Sire. The healer’s pack with her herbs and potions. And the herbal from her room.” If he was to study healing, he would start with Ayriene’s treasured book. Deygan had promised him the books from the library. Somewhere in one of those must lie the answer, and if it was there, Sylas would find it. He swore on his life. He swore on Ayriene’s life.

“It shall be done. Casian will make the arrangements for you and Jaevan to go to your retreat. You will be made comfortable, as befits a prince of Chandris and his companion.”

It was only when he got back to his room that the full horror of what he had done struck him.

If he was to be shut away for the rest of his life it was no more than he deserved. He would be fed and sheltered, given clothing and books to study, where his crime demanded he should be hanged or locked in the darkest dungeon of Banunis Castle. He lay on the bed, turned to the wall and pictured Ayriene’s face. His best hope of redemption lay in curing Jaevan, but Ayriene would haunt his dreams for as long as he lived.

Epilogue

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

 

C
asian watched the little entourage move away from his mother’s house, setting out across the desert for the old garrison and lighthouse on the southernmost tip of Chandris. Known ironically as The Hermitage, it was as remote a spot as could be found on the island, and was to be the new home of Sylas and the still-silent Prince Jaevan.

It had taken all Casian’s influence to persuade King Deygan to hide Jaevan and Sylas at Boreana’s house on the edge of the desert instead of the hunting lodge as Deygan had planned. The plan served a dual purpose: it hid them from sight, which was Deygan’s intention, and gave Casian easy access to Sylas, which was Casian’s. But the king was nervous of entrusting such important detainees to House Lucranne. Not prisoners. Never that. The king was adamant that his son was not a prisoner, merely absent from court for the good of his health while the healer cured him. He fooled no one.

The affair had not flourished as Casian had expected, given Ayriene’s absence and Casian’s easy access to his lover. Sylas was withdrawn, depressed, and rarely open to the suggestion that the two of them spend time alone. With anyone else, Casian would have given up after the second rebuff, and found another, more willing partner. He rarely had to make much effort to find a bedmate, after all, and there had been others already. But Sylas’s lack of interest maddened him. When Casian came to the throne Sylas was meant to be there, damn it. The knowledge that he needed Sylas itched in his mind. He
would
have him. He just needed to be patient—let Sylas get over Ayriene’s death.

But however secure Casian’s mother thought her household, rumours leaked out. The king’s son was a drooling idiot, people said on the streets of Banunis. The next king of Chandris was a simpleton who could not wipe his own arse. Untrue, as it happened, but the stories got wilder and more elaborate. Deygan was being punished, they said, for his destruction of the Aerie, but by what or whom was never made clear. Deygan attended state events alone. That way it could be put about that the king was so wary of the threat to his sons that neither prince would be seen in public until the rebellion was squashed.

In reality, the rebellion had all but died. Cellondora had been the driving force, and with the levelling of that village, the others had gone back to their old ways. Swords had been thrown into wells or buried out in the desert.

But Deygan was left with a dilemma: Jaevan could not be passed over, according to the law that his ancestor had gone out of his way to institute. Only if Jaevan gave his assent could he be bypassed in the succession, and that he was incapable of doing.

So Jaevan died.

Not really, of course. It was a sham, from start to finish. Jaevan was said to have died of a fever, and Marklin was installed as crown prince. They held a big funeral, invited foreign dignitaries—everything the observant nobles of Chandris and beyond might expect. Even Marklin had to play a part in the charade, by his father’s side at the funeral. Deygan made use of his son’s pale, pinched face to convince the watchers that Marklin’s beloved older brother had indeed died. No one, they said, would put a boy through that if it were not true.

Sylas kept marking. Casian told him repeatedly that he need not fear a call, since all the changers bar the two of them—and Jaevan, if he could be counted—had left the island. That was untrue, as it happened. There were three, since Casian had set Gwysias to live in the remains of the Aerie, his arm broken in three places to stop him flying, and with orders to warn Casian if any changers should return in search of survivors. Despite the mutilation, Gwysias seemed almost pathetically grateful to Casian for rescuing him. A small compulsion had helped instill that gratitude, but it would not have worked had the feeling not already been there in some measure.

So Sylas kept marking, terrified that a call would take him away from Jaevan. The effects of the marking took their toll, as Ayriene had warned, and that left Casian more frustrated than ever. When Casian tried to stop the supplies of blood elder reaching him, Sylas took it straight to the king, who instructed that Sylas should have whatever books and supplies he needed to continue his studies. In time, Sylas could not have responded to Casian’s advances, even had he wanted to.

Casian could hardly bear to think of it—his golden youth, locked away with a mindless boy in a lighthouse at the far end of the desert. Still, he thought wryly, at least he would know where Sylas was when he needed him. Sylas would be kept safe until Casian was ready to make his move. And blood elder was reversible, when that happened.

And Casian—well, he had his women, and his men—but Sylas held his heart. And his mind, for Sylas would make him king.

The remnant of the changers departed the island shortly after the destruction—what was left of them. A rag-tag band of masters and apprentices and novices with hardly a smallcoin to their names, once the passages to the mainland were paid. Jesely stayed, found himself a Chesammos village in the desert where they asked no questions. With the money he had managed to take from the Aerie, he bought himself a rickety wagon and an aging cheen with which to earn his living.

His heart sank when news of Jaevan’s death reached him. Such promise lost.

He asked for Sylas in Banunis, drinking in ale houses the lad had frequented, talking to stall holders whose acquaintance he had made. Sylas had died at the Aerie, he was told. Shame. He’d been a nice lad. Yet Sylas had been in Banunis, not at the Aerie. Jesely knew that for a fact. Someone was putting out lies about Sylas, and if that were so, might not the story about Jaevan be a lie, also?

Jesely was one of the faces lining the streets when the funeral procession passed. Marklin was white and drawn—the picture of a boy who had just lost a second brother. Deygan was almost unnaturally composed. Even if he was king first and father second, Jesely would have expected more emotion in his face. And Casian… If Jesely had to describe Casian’s appearance at all, it would have been ‘satisfied.’

He risked everything to let out a tendril of aiea-dera as they passed. His empath talent confirmed his suspicions: raw, visceral grief from Marklin; a certain smug assuredness from Casian; and from Deygan, no hint at all of any loss. A king might school his face to stillness, but he could not hide his emotions, not from an empath.

If Sylas and Jaevan were alive, he would find them. He owed them that much. And if he could be the instrument by which Casian fell from grace, so much the better.

It was almost a relief to Sylas when the blood elder did its worst. Casian saw no reason why they should not carry on the way they had been, but Sylas could not forget what he had done. He loved Casian, but whenever he allowed the Irenthi to take him to his bed, the grief and guilt killed his desire. When he slept, he saw dying changers and Ayriene lying in a pool of blood.

Deygan had ordered the destruction, he told himself. Casian was obeying his king, as he was bound to do. There was nothing evil about Casian. He refused to blame his Irenthi lover for the Aerie, but he could not treat his own crimes with the same leniency. He had thought there was nothing evil about himself either, and yet he had killed Ayriene to save his own skin.

It was hard, living with Jaevan. Every day, seeing that shell of a man and knowing that it was his fault. Jaevan was changing—becoming a man. He had put on several fingers’ width of height while they had been shut away, and his shoulders and chest were broadening. His voice should be deepening too, but the only time Sylas heard his voice was when he screamed.

He had done it once, at Casian’s mother’s house—waking in the night from some dream or nightmare, sobbing and wailing and clinging to Sylas as if to a branch in a whirlpool. And Sylas held him. It was all he could do. Held him and rocked him like a baby and murmured words of reassurance in his ear until he calmed.

So now they were to be held in The Hermitage, not in the relative comfort of the house in Lucranne. Deygan and Casian would visit less often. The king was having the room in which they would be held shelved from floor to ceiling to hold Sylas’s books. All the books on changer lore and healing would be sent there from Banunis Castle’s library—a whole wagon-load, if not more—so that Sylas could continue his studies in the hope of finding a way to reverse Jaevan’s decay. Deygan had kept his promise about that.

Sylas too would keep to his vow. If it took to the end of his days, he would study. He would find what had condemned his friend to a life of silence, and he would reverse it, whatever the cost.

And on the island, the Lady, deprived of the changers to channel away her energy, stored up trouble. Soon the island would realise how much of a debt they had owed to their changer folk. The changers and the volcano—a magical symbiosis of giving and receiving energy—a relationship which had just been catastrophically sundered.

Deep in the Lady, the aiea gathered.

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Glossary: Crowchanger

 

aiea
- the energy emitted by the mountain, Eurna (known by the Chesammos as the Lady), and which is used by the changers.

aiea-bar
- the lower order energy, used by the changers and their kye to effect the transformation from human to bird form.

aiea-dera
- the higher order energy, used by changer talents when accessing their abilities, and inaccessible to those with no talent.

ashini
- Chesammos. Roughly translates as “you understand?” or “OK?”

blood elder
- plant used by the changers to suppress changing. The root is stronger, and used to delay a youngster coming to the change. The leaf, which gives off a red sap that gives the plant its name, is used for the marks used to prevent changing in those who have already started the change.

caigani
- Chesammos. A form of smallclothes made of a light cloth and knotted at the hip.

caiona
- Chesammos. A headscarf wound around the head and across the face to protect from ash and fumes in the desert.

Cellondora
- one of the desert Chesammos villages. Centre of the Chesammos rebellion.

cheen
- a large, flat hooved animal, used to pull wagons across the desert.

Chesammos
- the original inhabitants of Chandris. A peaceful people, they are characterised by their golden skins and dark hair, which is often curly or wavy.

esteia
- a desert plant. It produces nut-like seeds, which are deadly poison.

Irenthi
- the ruling people of Chandris, who invaded the island centuries ago and have ruled there since. Characterised by their blond hair and fair skin, they usually have blue eyes, but occasionally green.

Irmos
- any of the race of people who are of mixed Irenthi-Chesammos blood.

kaba
- a plant which produces a sap highly toxic to Chesammos and Irmos, but to which the Irenthi are largely immune, although it will make them very sick.

krastos
- the curved blade used by linandra diggers to prise linandra stones from the walls of volcanic vents. It has a blunted edge, but a two-pronged tip for gouging the stones free.

kye
- the bird spirits which occupy the world known as the Outlands, and which guide the changers in the use of their power.

Lady, the
- the term used by the Chesammos for the mountain Eurna, which they revere as the source of life on the island.

linandra
- a pale green crystalline rock, formed in volcanic vents in the ash desert. It is used by the Chesammos to denote a marriageable adult, and also by the changers in their pipes. It is very valuable, and one of the main exports from Chandris.

maisaiea-yelai
- Chesammos. “If the Lady wills it” or “The Lady grant that it be so” are the closest translations.

medelerinn
- a desert plant, used (in a tisane) as a mild analgesic.

Namopaia
- one of the desert Chesammos villages, and home to Sylas and his family.

Omena
- a legendary figure to the Chesammos, Omena Stormweaver prevented the first threatened eruption of Eurna after the changers came to the island. Her name is used as a mild oath, in the form “Omena’s wings”.

swanflower
- a fleshy desert plant with a tap root long enough to reach water, even in the desert. Used by the Chesammos as famine food, emergency water supply, a salve for wounds, and when brewed, as an alcoholic drink.

tokai
- a thorny bush, the spikes from which are used as rough needles by the Chesammos, and by the changers to mark the skin of young changers who are suppressing the change.

zacorro
- a highly potent alcoholic drink, brewed by the Chesammos and drunk at their major feasts.

BOOK: Crowchanger (Changers of Chandris)
5.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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