The Awakening (30 page)

On his way back to Ajyne, Diplomat Cherise stopped at a small but elegant house surrounded by an immaculate garden. As he led his horse wearily along the pebbled pathway he nodded a greeting to the huge Tribesman standing guard at the front door.

‘Urtane,’ Cherise said. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again.’

‘Cherise,’ the Tribesman grunted in reply. ‘I hope you’re not here scavenging like the last visitors we had.’

‘Badghe and Egon were not missed for long,’ Cherise said softly. He leaned against his horse and coughed harshly. ‘Burn this fever!’ he muttered. ‘Could you let Maru know I am here?’ he asked.

‘Maru is away,’ Urtane said.

Cherise nodded. ‘Ys, then?’

‘Ys is here, Cherise.’

‘Good.’ Diplomat Cherise went to walk inside but paused at the door. ‘Bring that inside, Urtane,’ he said, indicating the body on the litter behind the horse. ‘I’ll need it later.’

Inside, the house was beautifully appointed with exquisite works of art from the northern regions. On the floor were tribal rugs, Ettan tapestries hung on the walls, and set into purpose-made niches was a fortune in Skrin Tia’k carvings in rare blue ebony and obsidian. Cherise, accustomed as he was to luxury, was astonished at the wealth on display. Each carving was worth a year’s wages for a skilled tradesman.

He stood in an antechamber. In front of a door carved from a single plank of a tadon tree stood a beautiful woman. She was small and delicate, with fair skin, long, thick, white-blonde hair and the most startling violet eyes. She smiled at Cherise.

‘Diplomat,’ she said in a low, vibrant voice, ‘how nice to see you again.’

‘Danan,’ the Diplomat bowed. ‘You are as lovely as ever.’

The woman laughed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that. You know it’s not my name, or my title.’

‘It should be, Andrine, it should be.’

Andrine shook her head and wagged a finger at him. ‘You are a cheeky man, Cherise. I don’t know why Maru puts up with you.’

Cherise bowed again. ‘Nor do I, Danan, nor do I.’

The door behind Andrine opened. ‘Yes you do, you old fraud,’ boomed a powerful voice.

‘Ys, what a pleasure.’ Cherise beamed.

Ys was even bigger than Urtane. He filled the doorway, top to bottom and side to side. His massively muscled torso was wreathed in intricate tattoos of battle scenes and stylised images of weaponry. ‘Come in, come in, Fraud. Tell me about the success of our plans.’

Cherise followed Ys through the doorway, taking care not to stand on his unbound hair as it swept the floor.

‘I see you have trimmed your hair again, Ys,’ Cherise observed.

Ys boomed with laughter as he swept it up and sat heavily in a throne-like chair. He indicated another, similarly sized chair. Cherise bowed and sat while Ys began plaiting his hair.

‘Yes, Fraud, I had to trim it again. One of my pets attacked my braids the other day.’ He looked up, ‘And besides, Andrine hates it when she trips over my hair.’

Cherise turned at a skittering sound. A small Skrin Tia’k scuttled across the floor, carrying a tray.

‘Thank you,’ the Diplomat said, taking a glass. He sniffed at the rich aroma that rose from the warmed liquid. ‘Ah, my favourite. No one can make hot radfire like the Skrin Tia’k.’

The Skrin Tia’k clicked and Diplomat Cherise bowed his head to listen.

‘Of course you may convey my thanks to your nestling,’ he said. The Skrin Tia’k clicked again and scuttled to Ys, who accepted the other glass, and then it hurried out.

‘So, tell me,’ prompted Ys. ‘How did you manage to get Tapash near enough?’

‘It wasn’t easy but Shanek helped.’

‘Unlike the First Bastard to be helpful,’ Ys grumbled.

‘The first plan was for Muttiah to fit Tapash into his Fyrd under some pretext, but Shanek decided to bring some slaves along, probably to kill them for
fun later. It was simple enough to slip Tapash in. No one paid any attention to a Tribesman among a group of Ajyne merchants.’

Ys chuckled. ‘Love the arrogance of the Asan. It gets me every time. And no one even noticed?’

Cherise sipped his drink again. ‘Not a murmur.’

‘I take it the aroxii were effective.’

‘Your aroxii were perfect. Please pass my compliments on to the trainer. Sadly, the handler was killed by Shanek.’

Ys grumbled in distaste. ‘Burn it,’ he said. ‘I liked Tapash. He was married to Andrine’s cousin. She won’t be happy.’

‘And you met the knot by the river?’

Cherise nodded. ‘They were waiting for us.’

‘All dead?’

‘No, not all,’ said Cherise.

‘What?’ bellowed Ys, rising from his chair.

Cherise held up a pacifying hand. ‘Some were taken by the nestlings and I kept one alive for corroboration. That way there’ll be someone to back up my story.’

Ys calmed and sank back into his seat. ‘Hmmm. Good plan.’ He scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘And the one you kept. Is he reliable?’

‘She is most reliable, and she will be believed, trust me.’

‘And Shanek? He is dead?’

‘Oh, yes. Most definitely dead.’

‘You’ve seen his body?’

Cherise barked a sudden, harsh laugh. ‘You’ve seen what the Skrin Tia’k leave behind. I saw bits of lots of bodies. But no one escaped, believe me.’

Ys frowned. ‘I don’t like this. He was supposed to have been killed by either Tapash or the aroxii. You were supposed to bring me his body!’ he bellowed.

Cherise waited until Ys calmed again. ‘I know that, Ys, but as you appreciate, the First Son was a very skilled fighter. He was hard to kill.’

‘You’d better be right about this, Cherise. This plan will all fall apart if he is still alive.’

Diplomat Cherise sighed. Ys was intelligent and articulate but he worried too much. ‘You have already killed the Weapon, years ago, right?’ Ys nodded. ‘Without that, they were doomed anyway. The others are useful, but…’ he let his voice trail away, allowing Ys to complete the sentence for himself.

‘You and I have never agreed on that point,’ Ys objected. ‘I’ve read the histories too. Any one of them alone is a threat. That’s why we need to eliminate them all.’

‘And the Danan?’

Ys frowned. ‘Still missing.’

Hwenfayre stood at the bow of the
Misty Seal
, watching the sun rise. They were sailing north and west under full sail. The Commander wanted to get somewhere in a hurry, that much was clear. Despite the yearning that grew by the moment within her breast, Hwenfayre refused to let herself sing, so she just watched and listened. It was a pleasure to hear the sailors go about their business, laughing and cursing, singing and talking about their women. After the eerie silence of the High Priestess’s ship, their rough bluster was soothing. So caught up was she in the joys of a morning at sea, that she failed to hear the quiet shuffle of an old man coming to join her.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Hwenfayre spun around to see a bent-over man leaning on a stick beside her. He cast a gap-toothed grin at her as he lit his pipe. ‘I often come out here at dawn. Even after a life at sea, there is still nothing like dawn in the prow of a ship under sail.’ He puffed on his pipe, sending blue smoke wreathing his head. ‘The Commander tells me you won’t tell him your name.’ Hwenfayre narrowed
her eyes, staring at the man in his halo of smoke. He shrugged.

‘Doesn’t matter much. Most of us have several names. It can be very useful from time to time. At the moment, mine’s Manno. It’s served me well for a long time now. But your new one will cause a few problems, you know.’

‘How so?’

‘Hwenfayre,’ he said, as if trying it out, testing the sound. ‘It’s an old, old word. Not many use it as a name. Bad-omened, you see.’

Hwenfayre said nothing; she just stared at Manno.

‘The rather unconventional nature of your arrival will not help. Sailors are a superstitious lot and you do not seem to be like us. It is said that a child of the Sea will always betray you. She belongs to the Sea, and the Sea will always hold her close. We honour the hwenfayres and will harbour them, but we never truly trust them. Now we of the Raiders, we love the Sea too. But she never owns us the way she owns the Children.’ As he spoke, he watched her closely. When he mentioned the Children, he raised his eyes to meet hers. She returned his steady gaze frankly. He nodded. ‘I thought as much,’ he said. ‘No one aboard knows the legends of the Danan as I do, so it is unlikely anyone will guess. But be careful. And don’t, whatever you do, sing anything.’ With a friendly wave of his pipe, he shuffled away, leaving Hwenfayre confused and troubled. Who was this man, and how could he know who, what, she was?

She had always considered the Southern Raiders to be little more than pirates, thugs who plundered
the Sea, but perhaps there was more to them. As she watched Manno make his unsteady way away from her, she saw him nod to the Commander who was standing amidships. The Commander nodded back and listened as the old man spoke quietly to him. It was not a long conversation, but twice during it the Commander looked up at her. When they were done, Manno went below decks and the Commander made his way towards her.

‘Good morning, Hwenfayre,’ he said.

‘Commander.’

‘My old friend Officer Manno tells me you are a very interesting woman.’

‘We’ve hardly met,’ she replied. ‘I think he is exaggerating.’

The Commander shook his head. ‘Unlikely,’ he disagreed. ‘Officer Manno does not exaggerate. No, he thinks you are interesting. And he was very keen that we talk.’

Hwenfayre shrugged, feigning disinterest as she continued to stare out at the rising sun. Beside her the Commander waited for a few minutes, then he was called away by a crewman to see to something. He gave a brief grunt and left without a word.

Despite what Officer Manno had said, none of the crew seemed at all concerned by her choice of name. They were friendly and welcoming, seemingly unconcerned by the manner of her arrival, which was also at odds with what Manno had said earlier. They greeted her cheerfully by name and showed neither fear nor lack of ease around her. So much so that she quickly found herself enjoying their rough and ready fellowship.

It was only after a few days that the Commander attempted to make conversation again.

She was standing alone in the prow of the
Misty Seal
, watching the waves and sky. They were still in deep ocean so the swell was long and powerful, the water dark and cold. Occasionally she caught glimpses of streamlined dark shapes sliding beneath the hull and each time she felt a tremor of half-fear, half-excitement as she imagined their world. There was something about the deep ocean that sang to her like no other part of the Sea ever had. While she lived in the town, the coastal waters had raged and thundered on the rocks, showing their wrath at being stopped by the cliffs. On the small boat with Wyn she had experienced the joy of the open Sea with no sign of land so the waters could roll and tumble freely. Out here, deep and unfettered, the Sea took on its true life. The Sea could breathe and surge as she felt fit; nothing here could challenge her might or tame her passion. Here she could gather her strength and prepare herself for whatever might come.

At last Hwenfayre could feel what it was to be a child of the Sea. It was as if she were somehow larger and more powerful. Here, now, the Sea could truly sing to her, call to her and summon her home. Hwenfayre revelled in the glorious wonder of it all, completely unaware that others were noticing her.

‘You named yourself well, Child of the Sea,’ commented the Commander. He had quietly made his way up behind her to stand and watch. ‘I’ve been on the water all my life, but I have never met anyone who loves her as much as you.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, startled by his approach.

‘When I see you standing here, it is like watching someone coming home,’ he said, staring at her. ‘Who are you?’

Hwenfayre smiled. ‘As you called me, I am Hwenfayre.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. You came from somewhere. You had a mother and a father, I am sure of it. But where are they now? And how did you come to be here? Now?’

There was something in his emphasis on that last word that made her turn to face him. ‘What is so special about now?’

The Commander shrugged and stared out at the horizon. ‘Now is a strange time,’ he said.

‘Tell me why.’

The Commander smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘No. Tell me about yourself.’

She looked at him closely, seeing for the first time the sadness in his face, the deep pain in his eyes, the weariness in his stance. Something about him touched her. ‘What do you really want to know?’ she asked.

‘Where are you from?’

She stared again at where the Sea met the sky, the line of the horizon clean and flat, wondering what to say. ‘I don’t even know the name of my home town,’ she started. ‘And I don’t think I could find it again. It was on the coast on top of a high cliff. There was a wall built high above the rocks. I used to stand on the wall and just watch the waves crash against them. Sometimes I would imagine throwing myself
off the wall into the water. I would wonder how it would feel, whether I would die, and if it would hurt. But I never did.’

‘Strange thoughts for a young girl.’

‘Not really. I was very lonely.’

‘Your parents?’

‘For much of my childhood I thought I was the result of rape. A Southern Raider, during an attack. But later my mother told me I wasn’t. I had a father, but he left us before I was born. Sometimes I think I prefer the first story to the truth.’

‘What do you know about your father?’

‘Nothing, really. A name. A letter he left me.’

‘What people was he?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she lied.

‘Your mother?’

‘A local. After my father left she never married. She became very bitter and I think she blamed me, so I grew up alone.’

The Commander looked away at the Sea, lost in thought. Finally he nodded. ‘Some evil things have been done in the past by my people,’ he said softly.

‘In the past?’ Hwenfayre asked. ‘Since when have the Southern Raiders become peaceful traders?’

Instead of replying, he gestured out towards the open Sea. ‘Who with?’ he asked.

‘You could try talking with the people you meet, rather than killing them and sinking their ships,’ Hwenfayre countered.

‘We very rarely sink ships,’ the Commander replied mildly. ‘We need them. So we take them.’

‘Why? Is building them beyond you?’ snapped Hwenfayre.

She was surprised to see the Commander smile. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘it is.’

‘It’s not that hard,’ Hwenfayre said. ‘People have been doing it for centuries.’

‘With what?’

‘Wood, obviously.’

‘Obviously.’ He turned away from his consideration of the open Sea all around them and looked her in the eye. ‘Do you see any trees around here that we can build ships out of?’

The simplicity of his answer made Hwenfayre blink in surprise. ‘But surely…’ she started.

‘Surely we can build our ships from the trees of our homeland?’ he finished for her. ‘But we do not have a homeland. We live on the open sea.’ A call from a crewman caused him to turn his head abruptly. Seeing that it was something that needed his attention, he gave a curt nod and limped away leaving Hwenfayre to her thoughts.

She thought mainly about the other people she knew who lived on the open Sea, the people she still believed were her own, the people who had abandoned her. Why was it that everyone who seemed to care for her eventually abandoned her? Was it her? Or was this how life really is? How long until these people abandoned her as well?

And when they did, where would she go then?