Cry of the Newborn (82 page)

The thought had occurred to him that it should be simple to develop the effect of their skin taking on the appearance of the energy with which they worked across their whole bodies. And it was. He'd hidden his clothes in the bole of the same tree, covered them with leaves and then hauled himself into its boughs. He opened its life map circuit and set himself within it, letting the tree's energy flow over his, disguising him more surely than shadow ever could. And it took so little effort, even replenished him a little. His earlier work had left him seriously fatigued, though, and being forced to remain still for so long had been difficult. That and dealing with the pain in his bladder and through his groin.

He started to uncover his clothes. He was cold and the air was chilling fast. A tear fell down his face and soon he. was crying hard. He'd lost everything. His brothers, Mirron, poor Mirron, and everything he belonged to. All gone. Alone here on a plateau in an invaded country he had nothing to call his own and nowhere to go.

Gorian belted on his tunic and pulled his boots over his feet. He rubbed at his arms. The tree had kept him warm during the day but his fur cloak was back in the campsite. He doubted it was still there but he had nothing to lose by checking. He let his senses probe ahead. There was no one hidden in the trees and no one waiting by the camp site. His pack and furs were where he had left them but everything else was gone.

He bent to pick them up but straightened and turned instead. Kovan walked into the half-light, an arrow nocked in a tensed bow.

'Paul said you'd make the same mistake but not even I thought you were that stupid. He said you'd come back to this camp and I would have stayed here all night to make good on my bet. Now that's twenty denarius you owe me as well.'

'As well as what?'

'Shut up, Gorian. Shut up and sit down.' 'Or what?' he smiled.

Kovan marched in until he was only two yards away. He held the bow rock steady and there was a determination in his eyes that made Gorian wary.

'Menas is dead because she wouldn't strike you. Don't make the mistake of thinking I have any such problem. In fact, the only reason you are not already lying with this arrow in your neck is that the others begged Jhered for your life.'

'Did they?' Gorian felt a rush of love and hope. He would be forgiven after all.

'And I listen to what my friends want. And I listen to what my commander says. And I act upon it. I hate it but I act upon it.'

'So you are here to bring me back?'

'Back'
Kovan gaped. 'You are surely as cracked as Mirron says you are. As I always knew you to be. Back. Don't make me laugh. You are alive and that is more than you deserve. You have your pack and your cloak and that is more than you deserve too. You are a murderer and you are a rapist. They don't want you dead but they never want to see or hear of you ever again. Roberto has ordered any of his army to kill you on sight. Paul Jhered will set the levium on your tail. There is no place in Caraduk or the Conquord where you will ever be welcome. You are nothing. Outcast. Banished. You'll die out here.'

Gorian studied Kovan for a moment, wondering if he could get to him like he did Menas but concluding he could not. He did not have the strength. He knew Vasselis was lying anyway. They would not hate him for long.

'Finished?' he asked.

'Why did you do it?' asked Kovan. 'What possessed you?'

'You never really understood, did you, soldier-boy? The Ascendancy is more important than me or Mirron alone. It must grow to achieve its destiny. It will be the dominant force in this world and I have a responsibility to ensure the seed is sown in the most fertile place for that to happen.' He spread his hands. 'I'm sorry I hurt Mirron but she will understand one day. She's very young in mind. I am older, wiser.'

'No, Gorian, you are insane. Your talent does not put you above honour, decency and the law.'

Gorian laughed. 'Listen to you, Vasselis. You speak from an age long dead.'

'Maybe I do,' said Kovan, walking towards him once more, the bow still aimed at his throat. 'But it is only honour that is keeping you alive right now. And let me assure you of one thing. If you ever come close to Mirron again. If you try to harm her, threaten her or even speak to her ever again, I will kill you.'

'You don't have the balls,' said Gorian.

Kovan whipped his bow up. The arrowhead raked across Gorian's cheek and nose, just missing his left eye. Gorian staggered back clutching his face. The pain was extraordinary. And there was blood. He balled his fists.

'Uh-uh,' said Kovan, his bow trained and steady once again. 'Don't test me.'

'I'll kill you for that, Vasselis,' said Gorian, already imagining his face ageing crumpling in his hands. 'One day.'

'Really?' Kovan dropped his bow and strode forwards. 'Try now, Gorian. Try now.'

Gorian flinched backwards. Kovan beckoned him on.

'Not so big now, eh? Not so clever, little Ascendant.'

Kovan thumped his right fist into Gorian's mouth, splitting his lip. Gorian cried out and stumbled backwards. He raised his hands, suddenly scared. There was blood in his mouth. Blood everywhere. Kovan came on and drove his right fist into the side of Gorian's head. There was a roaring in his ear. His legs gave way and he fell to his hands and knees. Kovan's foot caught him in the gut, spinning him onto his back.

Gorian grunted in pain. 'Stop it. Stop it.'

Kovan loomed over him. Gorian's whole body ached. There was a sharp pain in the side of his head. He felt tears in his eyes.

'That's what Mirron said, isn't it? But you wouldn't listen, would you?' Kovan's foot came in again, right below his ribs. Gorian wailed. 'This is what it feels like.'

Kovan dropped on to his body and rained blow after blow into his face with both hands. Gorian didn't have the strength to stop him. Kovan's punches struck his eyes, nose, mouth and cheeks. Every blow brought new pain until he went numb with it all. He was crying now, unable to control himself. Eventually, Kovan relented and stood up.

'Hurts, doesn't it?' he said, flexing his reddening hands. 'I'm going back to the camp now. I have a horse and I'm looking forward to hot food and a warm comfortable cot inside a roomy tent. Got any plans, Gorian? Perhaps you should see to your face. It's an awful mess. Going to swell up and be painful. Still, at least it will go away. What you did to Mirron, that lasts forever.'

Gorian said nothing, just watched him, hating.

'This isn't going to go away, Gorian. They are never going to let you back in. This is your life now. Get used to it.'

He turned and walked from the camp.

'Right,' said Gorian, nodding to himself. 'Right.'

The camp was breaking up to march. It was three hours before dawn. The noise of the striking was everywhere. Horses snorted, hammers fell, stockade sections slapped together on flat bed wagons. They would be ready for the advance cavalry and light infantry to leave shortly. The first maniples would march within the hour. Jhered and Roberto were standing with Dahnishev in the surgeon's operating tent. None of them had slept a wink. The doctor had first examined Arducius and Ossacer under orders from Roberto, then Mirron under those of Jhered. Both for entirely different reasons. Finally, there had been the grim task of examining Menas's body. The surgeon pulled a blood-stained cloth over her corpse. Jhered bit his lip as her head disappeared beneath it. So, any conclusions?' asked Roberto.

Dahnishev blew out his cheeks. 'For the second time in a day, I have never seen anything like it. You tell me she was how old?'

'Thirty-four,' said Jhered. 'Young, fit and very quick.'

'Extraordinary.' Dahnishev frowned. 'If I had to guess, I'd say this body was a hundred years old and more. She died of old age. I've examined her organs, I've looked at her skin and eyes, her hair. Nothing is damaged other than by the ravages of the years. This isn't possible.'

'It shouldn't be,' said Roberto quietly and Jhered felt the general's eyes on him. 'Want to tell me how this can happen?'

'You'll get a better answer from Arducius but in essence, their talent lies in the ability to use small amounts of energy from within themselves or from nearby sources and use it, amplify it in other directions to make things grow.'

'Grow?' Roberto gestured at the body.

'Ah,' said Dahnishev, getting it immediately. 'And in making things grow, they age as a consequence.' 'Precisely,' said Jhered. 'Dear God-around-us,' breathed Roberto.

'But it will have taken everything from him, left him exhausted,' said Jhered.

'Well, thank the Omniscient that he can only kill one every now and again,' said Roberto.

'Look, I know this is all very hard to take in.'

'You have a gift for understatement, Lord Exchequer,' said Roberto.

'Whatever Work they perform, it leaves them tired. The greater the effort, the worse the effects.'

'Yes,' said Dahnishev.
‘I
saw the signs of ageing in your other Ascendants. They age in fractional proportion to their Work, don't they?'

'Yes. Gorian will have been in a very poor state. Kovan mentioned as much.'

'Though not as poor as his victim, Paul,' said Roberto. 'We shouldn't let him run free. That was not a good decision.' He shook his head. 'The moment I begin to see the possibilities, even accept them, you present me with a murderer. An assassin who needs no weapon, no poison, no training. Just his touch and his mind.'

'And a bed next to his victim so he can rest afterwards,' said Jhered. 'Roberto, you're overreacting.'

'He's a murderer,' said Roberto.

Jhered sighed and couldn't help but look back at Menas. 'I know. Look, I don't like it either. But the others don't want him dead by our hands.'

'You're the Exchequer. You are not beholden to three minors, no matter how important they might be. And neither am I. If my people find him, they will kill him.'

'Just go with me on this one. Deep down somewhere, the Ascendants want to feel he will achieve redemption. This grants him that possibility.'

'Dusas is coming and he's not even fifteen,' said Dahnishev. 'How much chance do you really think he has?'

'After what he did, freezing to death if he doesn't starve first is better than he deserves. He should burn.' Jhered shut Gorian from his mind. 'Tell me about Mirron.'

'Nothing you don't already know,' said Dahnishev. 'I can confirm the rape. She has lost her virginity, she is bruised and bleeding and there was dried semen on her thigh. It's her head you need to worry about. Not only because of the violation. She witnessed the murder too.'

Jhered nodded. 'I'll deal with it. Try to, anyway.'

'They need to be ready to go in two hours,' said Roberto.

'We will be.' Jhered turned to go.

'And Paul?'

'Yes?'

'They are your responsibility. And they are under probation. No transgressions. I won't have indiscipline in my army.'

Jhered walked through the dismantling of the camp and to the wagon in which the Ascendants had bedded down when their tent was struck. He nodded to the members of Roberto's extraordinarii surrounding it and looked in the back. The two boys and Kovan were asleep but Mirron was sitting up. In the lantern-light, he could see the tear stains on her cheeks.

'You don't have to do it quietly,' he said.

She turned her head to him. 'I don't want them to hear me, Exchequer. They need to sleep.' 'Paul. I told you, call me Paul.'

In the next moment she was across the wagon and flinging her arms around his neck. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried hard. He held her to him awkwardly, one hand on the base of her head, the other stroking her back.

'It's all right,' he said. 'No one can hurt you now.'

'Why did he have to kill her? She was protecting us all.'

'I know, Mirron, I know. She was a great Gatherer and will be a greater loss. I'm so sorry you had to see it.'

Mirron sniffed and drew back, wiping at her eyes. 'Where will he go?'

'Gorian? I don't know,' said Jhered.

'Will he be alright?'

'I—' Jhered stopped, at a loss.

'He will be alright, won't he? He'll find somewhere safe.'

Jhered looked into her eyes and saw the yearning there. The desire for reassurance. It was something he could not give her.

'I don't know, Mirron. Worry about yourself, not him.'

'You can't change her,' said Ossacer from the depths of the wagon. 'It's always been like this.'