Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (5 page)

Now Kerris sat poking
her food around her plate, knowing their mother would question them
about Shea’s disappearance. ‘Don’t mention Master Pule, don’t
mention Master Pule,’ Kerris repeated in her head, over and over.
She’d seen Master Pule, his head close to Shea’s, when he left
these apartments after instructing Mellia. She’d glimpsed Shea’s
face, bright with amusement before the familiar empty mask slipped
back into place. If Shea had truly run away, Kerris was sure she’d
have run to Master Pule. She so wished Shea had taken her
too.

Mellia and Ternik had
just finished lunch, Kerris having been sternly reprimanded for
playing with her food, when Veranta arrived. One glance at her face
had both Mellia and Kerris out of their chairs and right down on
their knees rather than bobbing the usual curtsies. Ternik stood
and inclined her head fractionally.

‘So where’s the stupid
child gone?’ the Imperatrix demanded, her voice no louder than
usual for the moment. ‘I am about to receive a trade delegation
from Dekros Plains. I have little time to be bothered with
this.’

‘Lady Shea is not
within these quarters, my lady,’ Ternik replied calmly. ‘She may
have wandered off through the servants’ corridors
again.’

‘Surely someone would
have seen her go through the kitchen?’

Ternik now sounded a
touch apologetic. ‘There were no servants in the kitchen most of
the morning, my lady – fruit market day.’

‘And you two have no
idea where she might be?’ Veranta glared at the two kneeling
figures.

‘Oh no, my lady,’ from
Mellia tangled with Kerris’s ‘No idea mother.’

Veranta turned away,
then back to Ternik. ‘I’ll have a search made of the upper levels –
she can’t be far. But I sent for Pule earlier and the messenger
could get no reply. The door was bolted so he couldn’t get in
either.’

Ternik closed her eyes
for a moment. Her expression grew alarmed then the frown lines dug
down her forehead. ‘He isn’t there, or within the Citadel. Nor his
apprentice.’

‘Shea liked Master
Pule,’ Mellia’s faint voice seemed to thunder in Kerris’s
ears.

‘Oh no Mellia, be
quiet, be quiet!’ Kerris begged inside her head.

Veranta turned again to
stare at her eldest daughter. ‘What exactly do you mean by
that?’

Mellia’s pale, plain
face blotched with colour. ‘Shea always escorted Master Pule to the
door and I heard them laughing. She never did that with the other
tutors.’ Mellia faded into silence as the colour drained from her
face, leaving her paler than ever.

‘Kerris?’ Veranta’s
hard brown eyes bored into Kerris.

‘I never knew that
mother.’ Kerris was astonished that her voice sounded so
normal.

‘What do you know of
Pule?’ Veranta’s voice rose.

‘Master Pule is Advisor
to your Council mother. Should I know something else?’ Kerris
widened her grey eyes, staring straight back at the Imperatrix. To
her relief, her mother swung again to Ternik.

‘You will endeavour to
trace Pule, do you hear me? I will know where he’s got to before
the day’s end. Meanwhile I have a delegation to
flatter.’

Kerris got shakily to
her feet when she heard the outer door bang shut behind her mother.
She was sure Ternik gave a sigh of relief nearly as loud as hers
and Mellia’s.

The Citadel guards
found no clues whatsoever to where the second daughter of the
Imperatrix might be: it was as if she had simply vanished. They had
a similar lack of success regarding Advisor Waxin Pule. The Captain
Overseer authorised the breaking down of the door to Pule’s tower
rooms, but nothing appeared out of place, no signs of hasty
departure. He too had vanished.

Veranta was in her
private apartments giving full rein to her temper. Several ancient
and priceless vases lay in shards just inside the entrance and
papers fluttered like fallen leaves around her desk. She drew a
deep breath and tried to calm herself – a difficult task, when
never in her forty-three years had she been expected or asked to
restrain herself. Veranta had stormed up to her rooms for just this
explosion of rage. On this occasion even she was able to see there
was absolutely no one she could vent her rage on. She’d ordered a
meeting of the Inner Council for an hour after sunset and she had
to be in control of her fury at that meeting.

She finally sank down
on a silken couch and gathered her thoughts. The girl was small
loss. Veranta doubted if she’d ever have been able to make a
profitable marriage bargain with that numbskull. Word had spread
throughout Kelshan that the middle daughter of Imperatrix Veranta
was sadly lacking in even primitive wits. The only worry was if
some opportunist citizen had kidnapped the girl – luring her away
from the Citadel would have been pitifully easy. If Shea was a
hostage then Veranta could expect a ransom demand within
hours.

The serious problem was
Pule. Veranta clenched her fists and her teeth, then forced herself
to relax again. Riders had already gone to check Pule’s large
estate holding to the south east of the City. Veranta was convinced
the old man would not be found there. She’d checked with Ternik and
found the mage prostrate from over expenditure of her mage powers
on her search for traces of Pule and his apprentice as well as
Shea. But despite Ternik’s efforts, she had found no
traces.

Veranta’s fist smashed
down onto her knee: where was the crafty bastard? Oh yes. She’d had
her suspicions for years. Such an affable old man, kindly,
avuncular. No one could be so consistently nice as could Waxin
Pule. But she had never caught him out. Time and again he had
repeated the same answers to her carefully rephrased questions.
Veranta was convinced he of all her Council – of all her citizens
quite likely – somehow knew details of the Dark Realm.

She’d had him closely
watched, his letters intercepted, read and sent on. She had scribes
skilled in codes work over copies of those letters and the results
had always been the same – nothing. Not for one moment did Veranta
consider a connection between Shea’s disappearance with Pule’s. Her
rage partially quenched, Veranta rang for a maid. ‘Tidy up in here
at once,’ she ordered, straightening her dark green
jacket.

She favoured jackets
cut short which had the effect of emphasising the breadth of her
hips, but she had never noticed, and no one would have dared point
it out. The green trousers similarly were far too tight, but her
maids and tailors agreed the Imperatrix must see what she wished to
see when she looked in a mirror, rather than a true
reflection.

The Inner Council met
in a medium sized chamber adjacent to Veranta’s offices and fifteen
men and women got to their feet as the Imperatrix arrived. They
waited until she’d sat down, then reseated themselves. One elderly
woman remained on her feet however: Catha, one of the Bankers’
Guild representatives.

‘On behalf of this
Council my lady, I must express our great concern at the
disappearance of the Lady Shea. Is there no news of her my
lady?’

Veranta had almost
forgotten about Shea but she nodded at Catha’s little
speech.

‘No news but she’s
bound to turn up soon enough.’

She missed the exchange
of significant glances among some of the Council as she stared down
at her hands clasped on the table top.

‘I have far more
serious concerns. Advisor Pule is also missing. There is no
indication that he was taken from his rooms by force, but there is
also no sign of him anywhere in the Citadel or the City.’ She
lifted her head and stared at each Council member. ‘Therefore, I
can only assume he has – left – voluntarily. The suddenness of his
departure proves to me at least, that Waxin Pule was a traitor to
Kelshan.’ Her words fell into a silence that stretched
on.

It was broken by the
middle aged Raffer, representative of the Metallurgists’ Guild.
‘Advisor Pule has served the Imperium faithfully since your
father’s accession my lady. He is much respected and held in
affection by all of us.’ Heads nodded agreement all round the
table. ‘He has been in ill health these last several years, how
could he travel swiftly anywhere when he can no longer even go to
his estates? He was kind to me in my first appointment to your
Councils and taught me much. You must be mistaken my
lady.’

A murmur buzzed among
the Council members. Veranta stood up, staring hard at
Raffer.

‘I. Must. Be. Mistaken.
Is that what I heard you say Councilman? You dare contradict me?’
The Imperatrix’s voice had risen, her words clear despite the
stridency.

Raffer paled but stood
firm, his shoulders straight and his jaw set. ‘I stand by my words
my lady. Advisor Pule could never be a traitor to the
Imperium.’

‘You say Pule trained
you up in Council matters – perhaps you should be put to the
question on this matter.’

Utter silence followed
Veranta’s words once more. Raffer clasped his hands to conceal
their sudden trembling.

‘If that is your wish
my lady, I bow to your commands as always.’

Veranta shrieked for
the guards to take him away and Raffer went, with all the dignity
he could manage. When the door closed behind him and his escort,
Veranta again looked round the table.

‘Does anyone else share
that Councilman’s opinions?’ Her tone was soft now, full of womanly
sensitivity. The silence remained unbroken.

‘Good. As we are now in
agreement, I ask you all to search your memories for anything the
traitor may have said to you over the last weeks. Anything that
could help us discover where he may now be. Hints of any foul plans
he may have laid for insurrection within the City. Names he might
have mentioned who could be his accomplices. I will have your
reports by midday tomorrow and I am quite sure they will be full
reports with helpful information in them.’

She smiled, not
noticing the shudders from several Council members.

‘Of course, you will
not reveal the discovery of Pule’s treachery to any beyond this
company.’

Veranta exited with her
guards, leaving fourteen stunned men and women sitting at the long
table.

After settling Waxin
Pule on the grass, propped against their two packs, Grent turned
his attention to Seola. She was pale as milk, her skin clammy and
cold. Nenat staggered across, sinking to her knees beside Seola.
She fumbled at the pouches on her belt and crushed some dried
leaves under Seola’s nose. Nenat seemed in only a slightly better
condition than her patient but at least she was conscious and
functioning. Gossamer Tewk sat beside Pule an expression of
outraged disbelief on her face. Pule was patting her arm
comfortingly and speaking in a low murmur. The Lady Shea was
turning in a slow circle, gazing around her, her eyes shining with
excitement.

She hopped across to
squat beside Pule and Gossamer.

‘That was fun wasn’t
it?’ she beamed. ‘I think we’ve come a simply enormous distance. Do
you know exactly where we are Master Pule?’

Gossamer regarded the
girl with disgust. Fun? When she met Shea in Pule’s rooms in the
Citadel she’d wondered why the girl was said to be a lack wit.
Perhaps public gossip had been right after all. Gossamer averted
her gaze from the grinning child and stared around her. They were
in a meadow with large trees fringing the edges. The sun seemed
directly overhead so she judged it to be the middle of the day, but
she had no way of knowing north from south. She watched Grent
helping the old herb woman lie down next to Seola. A movement
beyond them, at the edge of the trees, caught her eye.

‘Would those men be
friends Master Pule? I don’t think we’re in much of a state to
argue with anyone.’ She touched the knives in her sleeves and
wondered if Grent knew even basic weapon skills.

‘Friends,’ Pule nodded,
watching the group of men jog rapidly towards them.

Six men, lightly armed,
led by another man. He had a round black shield strapped across his
back and his sword remained in its plain black scabbard. He was
bare headed, revealing grey hair much longer than was the norm in
Kelshan. The six men halted a few paces from the travellers but
their leader came on. He went to one knee beside Seola and touched
her forehead lightly.

‘She had too little
rest between travelling,’ Grent stammered.

The man’s teeth showed
in a brief smile of acknowledgement. He studied Nenat with a frown
then rose to go to the others. Pule tried to struggle to his feet
as the man watched. Finally, leaning heavily on Gossamer and Shea,
he was upright.

‘I presume I have the
honour of greeting the Shield Master of the Dark? I am Waxin Pule,
born of the Dark.’

The man stared hard at
him. ‘Well, you’ve aged far worse than me Waxin – do you not
remember me? I am Garrol and, as you say, I am now Shield
Master.’

He gestured to his men
and they moved in pairs – two to lift Seola, two to Nenat and,
despite his protests, two to Waxin Pule. The three invalids were
easily carried and one man also lifted the largest of the packs
which had been supporting Pule. Gossamer Tewk and Grent slung their
own packs over their shoulders and Grent offered a hand to Shea.
She took it and marched along beside him.