The Diamond Isle

25

While not especially built for speed, the Daughters of Mercy hospital ship was compact and sleek, and capable of a good rate of knots. Fortunately so, for no sooner had the island been sighted than trouble struck.

An insipid sun at their backs, a brace of privateers bore down on the disguised rebel craft. Shortly, a second pair arrived, the other edge of an intended pincer.

The Mercy ship put on speed. From port and starboard, further pirate galleons closed in, canvas swelling, prows carving the chill water. On board the infirmary craft the order went up to jettison all surplus cargo, and crates, chests and casks tumbled overboard. Lightened, the quarry surged.

A race ensued, the hospital ship trying to reach friendly climes before the pirates blocked its path. It was a close run. The hunted vessel beat the tightening blockade by a nose, and now it was a chase, the loner battling to outpace a small fleet even more determined to prevent it making shore.

Then a new set of ballooning sails was spotted, moving out from the island itself. A flotilla hove into view, equal in number to that which the pirates had mustered. And though ramshackle and makeshift, it put them to flight.

So it was that Dulian Karr and the dregs of the Resistance came to the Diamond Isle.

For Karr and Goyter, Quinn Disgleirio and a few hundred others, it was a time of joyous reunions.

For Tanalvah Lahn it was an experience of quite a different order.

In the shadow of their great tiered fortress, the islanders allowed themselves a brief period of rejoicing, for all that their situation looked hopeless. There were celebrations, some revelry, and cups raised to fallen comrades. But Tan was insensible to all that and had no part in it. In any event, Karr arranged for her to be taken to Kinsel without delay, while Goyter cared for an exhausted Teg and Lirrin.

Tanalvah was put into a carriage bound for the central redoubt and made as comfortable as possible, given her condition. She endured the short, bumpy journey in a mixture of anticipation, confusion and fear, and too soon found herself delivered to the island’s grim-walled fastness of last resort.

A small, wood-panelled chamber, sparsely furnished, was hastily made available. Its windows had been boarded for defence, so it was lit by candles and a lantern, despite the daylight outside. Tan was installed on the only decent chair, and her beaming well-wishers withdrew.

She was grateful for the room’s half light. Its shadows gave her haven, a veil to hide her shame. The silence was less welcome. It meant she had only her thoughts for companionship, and she was loathe to be in that company.

On the voyage over she had determined to be rid of her intolerable burden once and for all, and to confess, but only to Kinsel. There were many whose forgiveness she craved, but none as greatly as his. So, much as she longed to see him, she dreaded the prospect in equal measure.

Alone with her dark reflections, time dragged interminably. Perhaps a minute passed, perhaps an hour, before there were sounds in the passageway outside. Footfalls. A loose board creaking. The soft rattle of the door handle.

Tanalvah got up, awkwardly, meaning to move to the opening door, but she could do no more than stare at it, blood pounding in her ears.

Then he was there, outlined by the frame.

She was shocked by his appearance. He’d lost weight and looked haggard. He was hollow-eyed and his complexion was pallid. Kinsel was equally as shaken at seeing her, and by how heavy with child she was.

They stood numbly, taking in their respective states, until, as though at an unspoken command, and as one, they flowed into each other.

They hugged, caressed, sobbed. Finding their voices at last, their tearful outpourings would have seemed nonsensical to an eavesdropper. When some kind of coherence came, they mouthed endearments and devotions, and spilt their fears.

At length, eyes glistening, they drew back from each other, hands linked.

Kinsel smiled, nodding at the swell of her belly. ‘Look at you. You’re twice the woman you were.’

‘And you’ve been wasting away.’

‘Nonsense. I’m better for it.’

She gave a laugh that sashayed into a wheezing sob. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’

‘I was afraid I’d lost you, too.’

‘And the baby. Our baby. I didn’t think-’

‘I know.’ His arms were round her again. ‘It’s all right,’ he soothed. ‘We’re back together. Tell me about Teg and Lirrin. They’re well?’

She nodded, moist eyes blinking. ‘They’re fine. Growing so fast. Missing you.’

‘I can’t wait to see them.’

He talked on, supportive and affectionate, making her feel good in a way no other man ever had, so that any thought of confession began to fade. It could wait until later. Tomorrow, perhaps. Why spoil this?

‘…and our friends from Bhealfa?’ Kinsel was asking. ‘Dulian, Quinn-’

‘They’re all right,’ she replied a little brusquely, less than pleased to be reminded of the Resistance. Then she checked herself, her mind turning to other faces. ‘What about Serrah, and Reeth and Kutch?’ she said. ‘I didn’t see any of them when we landed.’

‘Reeth finally got his way and went off in search of the Clepsydra. Serrah and the boy went with him.’

Tan was relieved that they weren’t on the island. She wasn’t proud of the feeling, but it seemed trivial in light of her greater crime.

‘You were wrong about him,’ Kinsel told her softly.

‘Who?’

He smiled. ‘Reeth. You doubted him. But he was the one who freed me.’

That was more than she could bear. Gratitude and guilt swept over her. ‘I feel ashamed,’ she said.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he gently chastised. ‘What have you, of all people, to be ashamed about?’

‘I misjudged him.’

‘You made a perfectly rational assessment of Reeth’s character, based on the little we knew about him. Misjudgment’s not a major sin, Tan. But that isn’t important now. All that matters is that we’ve been reunited. We can start anew, be happy again with the children and-’

‘It’ll come to grief.’

‘There’s no need to be so pessimistic, my love. We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s seize it while we can.’

‘A Gath Tampoor battle fleet’s on its way here. And for all I know, Rintarah’s sending one, too.’

‘You’re sure?’ Kinsel looked shocked.

‘We barely outpaced it.’

‘We always knew it would be dangerous here,’ he said, collecting himself. ‘But whatever comes, at least we’ll be together.’

‘You don’t understand,’ she whispered. ‘We may never have-’ Pain creased her face and she gave a silent gasp. Her hands went to her abdomen.

Kinsel was alarmed. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing. Just…a twinge.’

He helped her back to the chair. She sank into it with a sigh.

‘Shall I get a healer?’ he asked, tightly clasping her hand.

‘No. I’m…I’m all right.’

‘What’s happening, Tan? Is something wrong?’

She managed a feeble smile. ‘Not wrong, my love; natural.’ She placed his hand on her swollen belly. ‘It means it won’t be long now.’

Serrah took a sharp intake of breath. Grimacing, she clutched her stomach.

Caldason said, ‘You all right?’

‘It’s just a…stitch or something.’

‘Sure?’

‘It’s nothing, Reeth.’ She straightened, the pang fading. ‘Probably the lousy rations we’ve been eating.’

‘You look pale.’

‘So do you. None of us are exactly at our best after weeks in this tub. I don’t know how regular sailors cope with it.’

‘We should be back on the Diamond Isle soon.’

‘I can’t wait.’ She returned to gazing at the dismal horizon.

They were on deck, well bundled against the cold, and the packet was rolling in the current. Not brutally, but enough to make the footing uncertain for land dwellers. A light spray fell constantly.

Fifteen paces away, sheltered by a sailcloth awning, Kutch sat with Mahaganis and Wendah. The blind old man wore a stoic expression, while his young companion, finding her tongue at last, was engaged in an earnest, whispered conversation with Kutch.

‘They seem to be getting on well,’ Caldason noted a little icily.

‘Since they realised what they have in common, yes,’ Serrah replied.

‘Which is?’

‘You’ve not been paying much attention lately, have you, Reeth? Apparently Kutch and the girl have a similar power. It’s a magic thing. You wouldn’t be interested.’

‘Seems you know more about what’s going on than I do.’

‘Only because I’m actually talking to them.’ She nodded Mahaganis’s way. ‘The old man’s getting under your skin, isn’t he?’

‘He won’t tell what he knows. About me.’

‘You should be grateful to him.’

‘I am. I owe him my life, but I question his motives.’

‘I think you’re wrong to. If he’s holding anything back, it’s to protect you.’

‘I don’t need protecting.’

‘You did when you were a child.’

‘The man was a paladin, Serrah. Can you imagine how that makes me feel?’

‘Whatever he was, didn’t he make amends by defending you? Or are you saying he’s beyond redemption?’

Caldason brooded on that for a quarter minute, then came back softer with, ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, grateful to be reminded that she had someone who cared. ‘Come on, let’s join them.’

‘You go ahead. I’ll just-’

‘Slink away and sulk? Life’s too short, Reeth. I mean literally. Remember the Clepsydra. If it really does indicate some kind of apocalypse, we’ve no time to waste. In getting things sorted, that is.’

He accepted her hand, and a tad reluctantly allowed himself to be led.

As they approached the group, Kutch and Wendah got up to leave.

‘Nothing personal, I hope,’ Serrah remarked.

Kutch looked embarrassed. ‘Oh…no. Of course not. We just-’

‘I understand,’ Serrah smiled. ‘Off you go.’

The boy nodded gratefully, and Wendah briefly relaxed her customary surliness. As they passed, Kutch deftly plucked something from non-existence and gently propelled it Serrah’s way. The glamour was in the likeness of a radiant, single-stemmed flower. Its bloom was a kaleidoscope of stunning, ever-changing colours, and it gave off an exquisitely sensual perfume.

The flower hung in the air, revolving slowly for Serrah’s enchantment. Then Wendah turned her head, puffed her cheeks and blew at the glamour. It fragmented into thousands of golden, cart-wheeling sparks that danced back to nothingness.

Serrah was delighted. Caldason seemed less amused.

Kutch and Wendah headed for the stern, engaged in discussion.

‘The young have such reckless vitality, don’t you think?’ Mahaganis said, as though he’d seen what had happened. ‘Just like you as a youngster, Reeth.’

‘My youth was a bit out of the ordinary, if you recall.’

‘Granted. But I think there are similarities. You and I had something in common, in that we were outcasts; and they have a bond too.’

‘So I heard. Not that anybody’s explained it to me.’

‘It’s unlike you to neglect intelligence gathering,’ the old man rebuked. ‘I understand Kutch is a spotter. Rare as that is, Wendah happens to have a similar talent. It’s good for them both, I think, to find another like themselves.’

‘She can see the magic, or whatever it is spotters do?’

‘In a way. What she does subtly differs from spotting. You might call it accessing.’

‘What’s that?’ Serrah asked.

‘He’s talking about accessing the Source,’ Caldason said. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Praltor?’

‘Yes. But don’t get too excited. Wendah’s ability in that respect is very limited.’

‘But you can connect with this thing you say is inside you?’

‘Connect’s too strong a word. Any direct link would be more than a human could bear. I’m not sure a legion of first-rate sorcerers could safely plumb its depths.’

‘So what do you draw from it?’ Caldason persisted.

‘I don’t draw anything,’ Mahaganis retorted, anger flaring. ‘It’s the exact opposite. What Wendah allows me is a defence.’

‘Defence?’

‘Some ease of the pain. A shield against this torment in my head. Her talent’s nothing compared to the power of the Source, but it’s kept me sane.’

‘I don’t understand. And shielding you against what?’

‘Where Kutch only sees, Wendah…obstructs. She has the ability to deflect magical energy to some extent, and she’s used that gift to help guard my reason. As to what she’s guarding me from; have you any idea of the Founders’ malevolence? What am I saying? You of all people should appreciate that.’

‘There you go again,’ Caldason grumbled, ‘implying something without being specific.’

‘Let’s just say we’re both labouring under our own singular curses.’

‘No, let’s not say that. How about the truth instead?’

‘There are some things you’re not prepared to hear just yet.’

‘I’m not a child anymore, Praltor. You don’t have to look out for me or worry about my feelings.’

The old man said nothing.

‘Did whatever you’re hinting at have anything to do with the way we parted?’ Caldason pressed. ‘Because I’ve no memory of how we went our separate ways.’

‘As I said, your recollection’s bound to be patchy.’

‘Why?’

‘It was a difficult time. There were battles, skirmishes-’

‘What happened to split us?’

‘We got to the point where there was little more I could do to help you.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘Reeth!’ Serrah exclaimed. ‘Show some respect.’

‘No,’ Mahaganis told her, ‘he’s right. The fact is, Reeth, that I…left you.’

‘You did what?’ she said.

‘He could look after himself by then, believe me. And there were circumstances.’

‘What kind of circumstances?’ Caldason demanded, his voice dropping and edged with menace.

‘I’d come to fear you,’ the old man confessed.

‘You were afraid of me?’ The Qalochian was genuinely taken aback. ‘Why?’

‘For what you are. And for what you’re capable of.’

‘More riddles. Just once, could you have enough respect for me to explain what you mean?’

‘Reeth, I…’

‘Please.’

Mahaganis sighed. ‘Very well. But you must try to understand what I’m going to say, and to keep a grip on yourself.’

‘Tell me.’

‘It’s your ancestry that worries me.’

‘My being a Qalochian, you mean?’

‘No.’

‘Well…what, then?’

‘What frightens me, Reeth, is your Founder blood.’