Orb Sceptre Throne (42 page)

Lorkal laughed anew but quietened as Lo approached. These Seguleh seemed to specialize in hiding all hint of their emotions and intent, but it appeared to Yusek that a new tension and discomfort had taken hold of Sall’s stiff posture. He took another long slow breath. ‘Before I departed on this trip,’ he began, ‘my father told me this would be the greatest test I would ever face.’ The hood rose to the sky. ‘I did not believe him at the time. It seemed to me then that no test could be greater than facing the challenges of my brothers and sisters. But I see now that I was wrong. My father was not speaking of the rankings. He was speaking of greater trials. Of challenges to everything I have been taught. I understand this now.’ He pointed to Lorkal. ‘Tell this woman that if she cooperates and speaks to Dernan then there is a chance that further bloodshed can be avoided. However, should she refuse, it is very certain that a great many more lives will be lost.’ And with a small bow of his head for emphasis, he walked away.

Yusek let go a long breath, impressed.
Probably the longest speech of his life
. She cocked a brow to Lorkal.

The woman was studying the pouches and gold ornaments in her hands. ‘Shit.’

They advanced north up a side-gorge of the valley for a time, until Lo sat down where boulders as large as huts choked the stream. His sitting announced that they would wait there. Saying nothing, Lorkal walked on alone, taking a higher path. Sall crouched down on his haunches where he could keep an eye on the approach up the valley. Yusek came and sat near him, hugging herself for warmth. She felt exhausted yet she could not stop shuddering. Her fingers were numb and blue and she clenched them as hard as she could. What would she do, she wondered, if she were in Lorkal’s position right now?

Would she just keep on walking?

It was one option. Who was to know? Except for you. That was the thing. And she suspected it was somehow similar to this test of the sword Sall mentioned. What would you do when no one would ever know of your actions? The easy thing? Shrink away? Bend? But one shouldn’t bend too much. A sword that bends too easily is useless; yet one that is too rigid will shatter. These Seguleh did not strike her as the type who would bend. What they must watch for, then, was shattering.

She must have drifted off soon after. Dozing, or perhaps sinking into hypothermia, for she thought she heard voices. ‘She won’t last another day,’ one said.

‘There are others with this Dernan,’ said a second, a voice she had never heard before.

‘She has held to our agreement – we can hardly do less,’ said the first.

‘Do not forget she is merely a servant.’

‘How we treat others is the measure of how we should expect to be treated.’

‘Straight from the teaching halls, Sall. Let us hope all such obligations prove as easy to cut.’

She was shaken, gently, but could barely rouse herself. She found Sall’s cloak over her. ‘We’re going,’ Sall said. ‘Lorkal has had time enough.’

Blinking, she waved him off. ‘I’ll stay here,’ she mumbled.

‘If you sleep any longer out here you will never awaken.’

She heard the words but somehow they didn’t mean anything. She shut her eyes. ‘Tired.’

Disjointed images followed. She became aware of being carried. Of crossbows firing and Lo before them, his sword a humming blur. Next she was jarred awake briefly to find herself lying sprawled on the ground while before her Sall and Lo fought side by side facing a score of armed men and women emerging from a steep cliff path. Then, she was carried in Sall’s arms while he stepped over bodies sprawled across the rock steps and, from far ahead, she heard panicked yells and the clash of iron.

She awoke to daylight shining in upon a crude circular dwelling of piled rocks. She was lying among hides and blankets. A low fire in a central hearth sent tendrils of blue smoke up through a hole in a roof of laid branches. Two small figures, a boy and a girl, leapt to their feet from next to the hearth and brought her bread and a bowl. ‘Eat,’ said the girl.

She took the flat unleavened bread, tore off a piece. ‘Where am I?’

‘You see,’ the boy hissed to the girl, ‘
she
can speak.’

Yusek thought she might know what the lad meant by that. ‘Where am I?’ she repeated.

‘Dernan’s—’ the boy began, then flinched as if terrified. ‘Well, that is … your camp, I guess.’

She eyed them, frowning, while she chewed. ‘What do you mean – mine?’

‘Are you their princess?’ the girl asked, her eyes huge.

Yusek coughed on her bread. She forced it down, her eyes watering. ‘Their
what
?’

‘Are they your servants? They carried you in. Are they Ascendants? They killed everyone.’

‘Not
every
one,’ sneered the boy.

‘Well, not us slaves.’

‘
Slaves
?’

The light was occluded as someone ducked into the hut. It was an old man, pole slim and dressed in a threadbare linen shirt that hung to his bony shins. He bowed his head to Yusek. ‘You are awake. Excellent.’

‘Who’re you?’

‘Bo’ahl Leth. They call me Bo. You may too.’

‘Bo?’

The man raised his sharp narrow shoulders in a sort of apology. ‘It amused Dernan.’

‘Where’s he?’

‘Dernan?’ Bo raised his greying brows as if he himself could not believe what he was about to say. ‘Well, searching for his head, thanks to your friends.’

A coiled band that Yusek did not even know was wound around her chest loosened. She let out her breath. ‘So – it’s over. They won.’

The man’s expressive face clouded with distaste. ‘Won?’ he repeated. ‘That is a rather coarse way to put it. Many men and women lost their lives yesterday. No one wins when so many die.’

‘Those standing do.’

He regarded her now in disappointment. ‘Ah, I see. My mistake.’

Yusek found that she cared nothing for the old man’s disapproval. She pushed herself to her feet; she was weak and dizzy but she could stand. ‘Where are they?’

‘Keeping watch.’

‘Take me to them,’ she demanded. He gestured to the exit.

Outside lay a circle of stone huts atop a bare hillock surrounded by what appeared to be steep cliffs on most sides. Bo led her up a path. Then Yusek remembered: ‘Lorkal! You know her? Where is she?’

Bo halted and turned back to her, pained. ‘Ah … Lorkal.’ His gaze lowered. ‘Yes, I knew her.’

The band of iron returned to Yusek’s chest. She found it difficult to breathe. ‘Take me to her.’

‘It would do no good …’

Yusek’s jaws clenched. ‘Take me to her.’

He lowered his head. ‘This way.’

The bodies had been collected to one side of the village, next to a rocky field where men and women, all ex-slaves or bondsmen, were at work digging a trench. They paused at Yusek’s approach, peering at her in curiosity. A few bowed. It did not take her long to find Lorkal. Like all the bodies hers had been stripped of arms and armour and wore only a long linen undershirt, stained with blood. Yusek studied the bruising, the cuts, the flesh of the wrists torn and bloodied. Tortured to death.

She turned on the skinny old man. Cold wetness chilled her cheeks. ‘Did you stand by and look on disapprovingly while
this
happened?’ She was hardly able to grind out the words.

He would not meet her gaze. ‘I’m sorry. Dernan didn’t believe her. Who would have? They never come this far north. What do they want? Why are they here?’

Yusek had knelt at Lorkal’s feet. She adjusted the shirt to cover the woman’s legs.
What lesson am I to take from this, Lorkal? Were your actions brave? Stupid? I suppose all that can be said is that you held to your convictions. Perhaps that’s the best that can be said of anyone. Yet now here you are, dead. Am I the coward, then, for always walking away? Well – at least I’m still alive
.

She fought down the tightness in her throat. ‘They’re looking for a monastery. One that’s supposed to be north of here.’

The breath hissed from the old man. ‘Gods, no …’

Yusek looked at him sharply. He gripped his neck. Something like panic had entered his eyes. She straightened. ‘You know what they’re looking for.’

‘I … can’t say.’

Yusek found her hand had gone to her long-knife. ‘Can’t? Or won’t?’

His gaze took in her tensed grip. ‘What is your name, child?’

‘Do not call me child.’

He searched her face. ‘No … I suppose not. My mistake again. Would you give me your name?’

‘Yusek.’

He nodded. ‘Come, Yusek. Let us talk.’ He invited her back to the huts. After one last glance at Lorkal, she followed.

‘What do you know of the Ascendants?’ he asked as they walked along, his breath pluming in the frigid early-morning air. They were higher up here and Yusek shuddered anew – her leathers and underclothes were still damp and they were sucking the warmth from her once again.

‘Ascendants?’ she answered, bemused. ‘Just what I’ve heard in stories and such. Why?’

He led her back to the hut she had woken in. The two children jumped away from the hearth, where the plate and bowl now sat empty. He clapped his hands. ‘Go gather a selection of clothes.’ The pair bowed to Yusek and dashed from the hut. He sat next to the hearth, began rebuilding the fire. She sat as well, willing to grant the man a few moments before she left to find Sall.

‘Ascendants,’ he began. ‘I mention them because they are very few and far between, yes? Yet so many must arise in potential or power, only to fall short. We know of how many? The Warlord, the Lord of Moon’s Spawn, one or two others. Why do so few achieve such heights?’

‘What are you? Some kind of scholar?’

A small shrug. ‘Scholarship is a hobby only. I am a mage.’

Yusek stared at him; this was the first man or woman she’d ever met of any self-admitted talent. ‘A mage? Really? Why didn’t you blast Dernan to ash?’

Tolerant amusement twitched his mouth. ‘Mages whose, ah,
aspects
are useful in warfare or in combat are a very small minority, I assure you.’

Yusek wasn’t sure what to make of him or all this talk. ‘You have a point? Because I’m not in the mood to chat.’

He raised a hand to beg her indulgence. ‘The children are gone to gather you warm clothes. Surely I have until then?’

She merely grunted to urge him on.

‘I believe there are many more Ascendants out there in the world, of course. Most are far less – how shall I put it? –
blatant
in their activities. Such as the Enchantress, the Queen of Dreams. Now, why should that be among such powerful entities? Anyway, who dare oppose them? Well, each other, of course. I believe Ascendancy is something of a struggle. A constant effort to assert one’s identity. An eternal reinscribing of what one is. And why? Because there are others out there, rivals, all vying for what are, after all, in the end, a very limited set of roles or identities.’

‘The Dragons Deck?’ Yusek said, drawn into the man’s discourse despite her impatience.

Bo nodded, impressed. ‘Yes. I believe the cards serve as
one
expression of these identities. There are many others, of course. And they are by no means exhaustive either. So too with godhead, I believe.’ He waved a stick as if to encompass the entire lowlands to the east. ‘Look at this ferment over the god of war. Who will it be in the end? Will its face be that of a beast? A wolf? Or some other? Who is to say? Only time will tell. But I digress.’

He set his elbows on his knees, examined the stick. ‘I say all this because there is a small retreat in these mountains. A monastery or sanctuary, call it what you will. Very small, very remote. There, it is rumoured, someone has taken up residence. Someone who may count among those few thrown up every hundred years or so who could achieve Ascendancy. Think of that!’ he breathed, almost in wonder. ‘An Ascendant of our age. Just as the Warlord, Caladan Brood, is of his distant age. A stunning thought.’

‘So where is it?’

‘Ah! Well. We have arrived at the crux of the problem.’ He squeezed the thin stick in his hands. ‘I don’t know if I should tell you.’

Yusek snorted her impatience. ‘You’ll tell
them
when they get here. Believe me.’

He blinked up at her, calmly. ‘No, I won’t, Yusek. What will they do? Do you think they will torture me the way Dernan did Lorkal?’

The idea disgusted her; as if he’d asked whether she would. He dared ask that after what happened to Lorkal? She stood to wave her dismissal. ‘Fine. We’ll just ask someone else.’ He started to speak but the boy and girl came bustling in carrying armloads of clothing. Bo dusted his hands, bowed to her, and left her to it.

Later she emerged warm and well insulated. Tall hide moccasins, their fleece turned inwards, rose to her knees over leather trousers. She had also put on multiple layers of shirts. Of what armour fit her, the best she could find was a heavy leather gambeson sewn with bands of what looked to be shaved horn and antler. Over that she’d pulled a thick wool cloak. A sheepskin hat and toughened hide gloves finished it all off.

She took a path at random, meaning to track down Sall. As she went she belted on the longsword she’d scavenged, leaving the two knives at her waist as well. Armed to the teeth now, she thought, adjusting the strange new weight on her left hip.
Not that it’ll do me any good – don’t know how to use the damned thing
.