Dhiammara

32 A Matter of Trust

The sky was growing light in the east by the time the Windeye returned across the mountains to Aurian’s camp. As he slid down the shining paths of air toward his abandoned body, he noticed that the knot of pine and spruce in which he had concealed himself was no longer deserted. Shia was watching over him in his absence. As he settled himself with a groan into his cold, cramped form, the cat cocked her head and peered into his face. “About time,” she said grouchily. “Aurian thought it wasn’t safe to leave you alone and helpless out of sight of camp, so I said I’d keep an eye on you for her. It was high time she got some sleep.”

“Is she sleeping now?” Chiamh asked. “I’m sorry to have to wake her, but I must speak with her urgently.”

“Can’t it wait?” Shia snapped, her tail twitching. “The poor thing has to rest sometime, you know.”

“Who’s watching the camp? Khanu?”

The great cat’s fur bristled up on the back of her neck, and her tail lashed back and forth like a whip. “Look,” she said defensively, “some of us can’t help these things. It’s the way we’re made—unlike some folk, we can’t choose our times and places. It wasn’t my idea.”

Chiamh frowned. “Shia, what you were doing last night is your business entirely. I wish you and Khanu all the luck in the world.” He smiled wryly. “For what it’s worth, I may be just a little envious, but I didn’t mean to pry.”

Shia growled under her breath. “I just feel so stupid. I wouldn’t have felt so bad, had we not ended up on Steelclaw. When I think of the risk and the danger—not just to ourselves, but to everyone!” She shuddered. “It’s an alarming and uncomfortable feeling, to know that your wits can just desert you like that.”

“Well,” Chiamh comforted her, “it may have been the proximity to your home territory that set you off. You know, like salmon swimming home to spawn.”

“Is that what they do?” Shia asked with interest. “All I know about them is that they make good eating.”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” the Windeye chuckled. “When will your cubs be due?”

“Do you mind?” the cat protested. “I’m trying not to think about it. About two moons and a half,” she added after a moment. “Didn’t you need to talk to Aurian?”

“Whether I did or I didn’t, I can certainly recognize a change of subject when I hear one. No, you’ve convinced me to let Aurian sleep on. We won’t be going anywhere while it’s daylight, in any case. I think I’ll get some rest myself.”

But Chiamh had overheard enough in Dhiammara to make his sleep uneasy, and to fill his dreams with images of bloodshed and war.

“I never thought I would see this place again,” Eliizar said bitterly. He looked out from between the bars of the hastily constructed slave stockade at the gigantic, ground-level cavern that was hollowed out of Dhiammara’s mountain. “I curse the day I last set eyes on it,” he went on, “and I curse the Mage who brought me here.”

Nereni took his hand. “My love, it’s scarcely fair to blame Aurian. How could it be her fault that her enemies attacked our home? Why, were it not for her, we would never have had a colony.”

“And were it not for her, we would never have had a child—and look what happened.” Eliizar’s voice thickened with grief. “Why, Nereni? How, after all these barren years of longing, could the Reaper see fit to bless us with a child, and then be so cruel as to snatch her away again? I’ll tell you why...”

He turned on Nereni, his one eye blazing fiercely. “Because the Reaper never meant us to have her, that’s why. That Mage interfered with nature, and made us go against the god’s divine will. Amahli was an abomination in his sight.—She was taken from us as a punishment.. ..”

Nereni leapt angrily to her feet. “I will not sit here and listen to you saying such things!” she spat. “And if you ever call our daughter an abomination again, I swear I’ll kill you with my own bare hands!” She stormed off across the cramped pen, barely noticing as the other slaves scrambled quickly out of her way. Finding the farthest corner away from Eliizar, she sat facing the wall so that she would not have to look at him—and so no one could see her cry.

After a time, Nereni felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun round angrily.

“Eliizar, go—oh, it’s you, Jharav. Well, go away. I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

Ignoring the hostile shoulder that she turned toward him, the fat old warrior sat down with a grunt beside her. “Be patient with him, Nereni. It is grief that makes him say these things. You know how he worshipped Amahli....”

“And I did not, I suppose?” Nereni snapped.

“You know I didn’t mean that—we all have our grief to bear,” Jharav sighed.

“Yes—exactly. You lost poor Ustila, but I never hear you talking like Eliizar, about Gods and punishment and suchlike nonsense. Is the world not a bad enough place without bringing the Gods into it?”

Jharav laughed sourly. “I doubt that the priests would agree with you there, but for us ordinary folk, it might not be such a bad thing! Nay, but truly, Nereni, you cannot throw out the good with the bad. Why, I gain a great deal of comfort from thinking of my Ustila safe and happy in the Reaper’s care.”

“Yes, but your god is a kindly god,” Nereni argued. “Eliizar’s Reaper seems all spite and vengeance—surely a god would be above such petty things?”

The warrior shook his head. “Give him time, Nereni. Give him time.”

“I need scarcely bother,” Nereni retorted bitterly. “What would be the point, Jharav? It won’t be long before that evil woman works us all to death. What can she be planning to do with this city that we seem to be reconstructing with our bare hands? And what will she do with us—those that survive at least—when it’s finished?”

“As to that, I scarcely dare imagine. But I suspect that the Evil One intends to reign over the entire South from here,” Jharav told her gravely. “This place would make an ideal stronghold. And if she already controls the Aerillian Skyfolk—cursed be their name—then it can only be a matter of time before the other lands and races will fall into her hands.”

“In that case,” Nereni said with quiet dignity, “I would rather be dead, and with my daughter.”

Just at that moment, Lanneret, Raven’s three-year-old son, came toddling up.

“Reni,” he quavered, tugging at her sleeve, “Mother’s crying again.”

Nereni sighed, and gathered him into her arms. She was horrified to see that even his little legs had been weighed down with shackles and heavy chains—a precaution that had been taken with all the captive Skyfolk, to prevent them escaping from Dhiammara by air. “All right, little one,” she told him. “I’ll come right now.”

As she got to her feet, she turned back to Jharav. “You know,” she said, “before I met Aurian, I was always too nervous and afraid to be any use in an emergency or a crisis. Now look at me—I shoulder not only my own burdens but everyone else’s, too.” She gave a short, sour laugh. “Sometimes I’m not sure whether I am grateful to the Mage or not. It was far easier to be helpless.”

Raven was sitting beside her consort’s unmoving body, her tears dripping down onto the winged man’s bruised and swollen face. On the ground beside her, her baby was screaming, but Raven did not even spare a glance for the tiny girl.

“Oh, Nereni,” she whispered. “I think he’s going to die.”

Aguila had been severely beaten and kicked while trying to protect his queen and children from the brutality of Sunfeather and the guards. For over a day now, he had been unconscious, his breathing shallow and his body cold. To Nereni, these were all bad signs, but for Raven’s sake, she tried to keep her fears to herself. In a way, Aguila’s lack of consciousness had been the very thing that had so far protected the Queen from Sunfeather’s advances. There was a whole history of spite and hatred between the two warriors—Sunfeather had always believed that he should have been Royal Consort instead of Aguila with his lowly background. Nereni knew that he would use this chance to take Raven, to make her pay for rejecting him—but Sunfeather wanted Aguila to witness his victory. Until it could be seen whether her consort would live or die, Raven was fairly safe—as long as Sunfeather’s patience held out.—Nereni concealed the flash of rage she felt at Raven’s disregard for her babe.—Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is to have little Elster? the Khazalim woman thought. Some of us will never see our daughters again—we would give anything to have what Raven has. Nevertheless, she took the winged woman in her arms, and let her weep for a time—before she took her to task. “Raven, you must face facts,” she said firmly. “We have no medicines for Aguila, nor a physician to help Him. All we can do is try to keep him warm, and pray that his own strength will suffice to bring him through. In the meantime, however,” she added sternly, “you can take care of your children—and you must. Lanneret gets frightened when he sees you crying like that. You must be brave for him. And you must feed your daughter, Raven, and hold her to keep her warm. She needs you more than Aguila does at the moment. What would Elster say if she could see you neglecting her little namesake thus?”

At the mention of Elster’s name, Raven flinched as though Nereni had hit her.

“That’s not fair!” she protested. “How could you bring Elster into this when I’m so afraid Aguila will die?” The last word was muffled with a sob.—Nereni turned away in disgust. “You’re a queen,” she said shortly. “Act like one. Feed your daughter. Comfort your son. Set your people an example. And never, never lose hope that one day we will get out of here.”

Aurian barely had time to wake up properly and choke down a leathery mouthful of two-day-old venison before Chiamh was trying to drag her off somewhere. As usual, she was not in the best of moods on first awakening. “What is the matter with you,” she said testily, as he grabbed her hand and led her away from the others. “What’s all the mystery? Whatever it is, can’t you just tell me?”

Since they could have no fire, they had camped just below the tree line of the mountain for concealment and shelter. The Windeye led the baffled and irritated Mage on a twisting path through the woods, and the Mage’s hawk, who had stuck firmly by her throughout the entire journey, followed them, swerving and banking between the trees.

“I don’t want any of the others to know I went to Dhiammara last night,”

Chiamh explained quietly, as they went along. “I was afraid you’d let it slip.”

“But I didn’t know you went there. You told me you were going to Aerillia.”

“Whatever—I definitely don’t want the others to remember that I can ride the winds and spy on Eliseth.” Chiamh guided the Mage down a steep rocky defile to a tree-shaded mossy bank where a turbulent little mountain stream swirled and seethed over its bed of rocks, making such a noise on its downward journey that no one within a dozen yards of it could possibly be overheard.—The Mage forgot her irritation and listened, with growing dismay, to what the Windeye had to tell her. He did not get far.

“She’s in Dhiammara?” Aurian interrupted. “But that place is a bloody natural fortress. And how in the name of all the Gods did she find out about the place—not to mention Aerillia . . .” She fell silent as the dreadful realization dawned on her. “What with everything that happened at the Well of Souls and afterward, I never thought to ask myself how she could have ended up in Aerillia. Chiamh—how could Eliseth have known? Until lately, she’d never been out of the north in her life!”

Chiamh took her hand. “Aurian, I’m sorry. That’s why I had to get you out of the camp and talk to you in private. In future, we must guard every word we say. One of our companions is Eliseth’s spy.”

“I don’t believe it!” Instantly, Aurian was furious with the Windeye. “How dare you say such a thing?”

Chiamh said nothing—he simply waited until the initial shock had receded.—Aurian bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you absolutely certain of this?”

“I’m certain. That’s what she told the Queen of the Khazalim.”

“Sara? What the bloody blue blazes was that backstabbing bitch doing there?”

Chiamh grimaced. “She’s supplying Eliseth with warriors. I see there’s no love lost between the two of you,” he added dryly. “But how do you know her?”

“Know her? I’ve known the little baggage for years. She started life as a fortune-hunting guttersnipe in Nexis—in fact she and Anvar were childhood sweethearts, if you can believe it. Then she married Vannor for his money.”

“What?” Chiamh looked absolutely stunned. “This is the Queen of the Khazalim we’re talking about?”

“Believe me. When the Wraiths struck, Vannor asked Anvar and me to take her with us, out of the city. Then when we got shipwrecked and ended up in Taibeth, she got sold as a concubine to Xiang, and decided he was a much better proposition than a mere merchant.”

The Windeye shook his head. “Goddess save us,” he muttered. “It will be interesting when we get to Dhiammara and she and Vannor meet.”

Aurian put her face into her hands. “Don’t even think about it.” Then she looked up sharply. “Never mind that. Sara is small fry compared to Eliseth.—You were saying that one of us is a spy? Chiamh, it can’t be true, can it?—This is appalling news. Which of us could it be? And how long has it been going on?” She jumped to her feet, as though she wanted to get physically away from the unwelcome news. “Chiamh, would you mind leaving me for a little while? I need to think this through. Tell the others—oh, I don’t know. Tell them I’m thinking. It’s true enough.”

“All right.” As he turned to go, Chiamh hesitated. “But I’m going to send Shia to watch over you,” he told her firmly. “I know you can trust the cats, at least. If one of our companions is really Eliseth’s spy, then he’s also her agent, and the rest of us are in grave danger—especially you, Aurian. As soon as your enemy realizes you know her location and you’re on your way there, I’m sure we can expect some kind of attempt on your life.”

Once the Windeye had gone, Aurian sat down again. She took a handful of pebbles from the bank of the stream and began to flick them, one by one into the water. “I know you can trust the cats, at least,” Chiamh had said. Did he mean that she couldn’t even trust him? Or that she shouldn’t? No, surely that’s nonsense, the Mage thought. How could Chiamh be Eliseth’s spy? He wouldn’t have told me ...

“Not unless he wanted to sow suspicion and dissent between you and your other companions,” said her inner voice.

“That’s rubbish,” Aurian told herself firmly. “Chiamh came with me through time, as did Iscalda and Schiannath. Eliseth never had a chance to get at them. It’s far more likely to be one of the others, who were in Nexis while Eliseth was there—or Aerillia for that matter. It could even be Linnet—or even Grince. He was certainly determined enough to come along on this trip....”

Aurian knew though, in her heart, that it was most likely to be someone who’d had an encounter with the grail. Could the traitor be Vannor? Or Forral? “Dear Gods,” Aurian whispered to herself. “Not Forral—surely? And what can I do now?” One thing was for certain. There was no way she could get to Dhiammara to face Eliseth without the Magewoman knowing. Any possibility of surprising her enemy had just been wiped out completely.

“What is the matter?” Shia appeared through the trees, her voice sharp with anxiety. “Chiamh wouldn’t tell me—he just sent me to guard you. You’re shielding your thoughts, my friend, but I could feel your distress all the way here. What has happened?”

“We’re in a real mess, Shia.” Quickly, Aurian told the cat what had happened.—Shia thought for a while, absently licking at a huge black paw. “You know, there’s one thing you haven’t considered,” she said at last. “If this spy has been among us all the time, then Eliseth could have had you slain long ago, without you coming anywhere near her and certainly while we were completely unprepared for treachery. It would have been the easiest thing in the world just to stick a sword or a knife into you as you slept—and certainly a lot more safe and sure from her point of view. So why has she not ordered your death? It seems to me that there can only be one answer—she wants you to come to her. But why?”

Aurian looked at her friend as though she had never seen her before. “Dear Gods,” she said slowly. “You’re absolutely right—and there can only be one reason. Shia, I was a fool not to think of it before. Eliseth wants the remaining Artifacts! She’s going to lure me to Dhiammara, the most defensible place in the South, so that I can deliver the Harp and the Sword right into her hands before she finishes me.”

“So she thinks,” Shia snarled. “If she wants to finish you, she’ll have to go through me to reach you.”

Aurian reached out and touched the cat’s broad, sleek head. “No, Shia. I’ve lost enough friends since this business started. I’m not going to sacrifice the rest of you now. There must be some other way. ...”

“As far as I can see,” Shia said, “there’s no point in letting Eliseth know you’ve discovered that she has a spy, because that will mean she’ll find out that you can spy on her. There’s only one thing we can do. We must head for Dhiammara now, as quickly as possible, and hope to catch your enemy unprepared.”

“We couldn’t make it quickly enough.” Aurian argued. “As far as I can see, she’s already prepared. We need some way to her near her without her knowing... .”

“You could always shield,” said Chiamh.

“What?” Aurian turned white. She looked frantically around, but could see nothing—yet the voice had come from somewhere close to her left ear.—Shia let out a threatening growl, rushed past Aurian—and pounced. There was a muffled shout—and suddenly Chiamh appeared, sprawled on the ground underneath the great cat, who had her forepaws on his chest. Her fangs were bared and her fierce golden eyes blazed down into his. Aurian’s hawk dived around them, uttering shrill, angry cries and swooping dangerously close to Chiamh’s eyes.—With difficulty, Aurian quieted the furious creature, though she was quite happy for Shia to stay just where she was. Once the Mage had calmed her hawk, she stood, hands on hips, glaring down at Chiamh. “Now,” she said coldly.

“Perhaps you’d like to explain why you were spying on me.”

“Aurian, be sensible,” the Windeye gasped. “If I had wanted to spy on you, would I have spoken up as I did? Had I felt the need to eavesdrop, I could have left my poor abused body safely behind, and watched you from the winds..

..”

Shia looked around at the Mage. “When you think about it, that does make sense,” she said dubiously.

Aurian nodded. “I suppose so....”

“Please—just get this bloody cat off me and let me explain. She’s breaking my ribs,” Chiamh protested in strangled tones.

“All right,” said Aurian with sudden decision. “Let him up, Shia. But Chiamh—this had better be good. I’ve got into the habit of trusting you, and I’d hate to have to stop now.”

The Windeye struggled to his feet, gingerly feeling his ribs. “Oh, it’s good all right. I think I’ve just found a way to get us into Dhiammara. I was just practicing on you—and you’ve got to admit, it worked. You never even knew I was there.” He looked at the Mage and grinned. “Trust me, Aurian—you’re simply going to love this.”