The Deathless Ones, page 21
"He has too many grand things in his mind, that one," Meia had told her. "He can never be bothered about what his men does most of the time. His men know that as long as no one brings it to his notice, they are safe. They make sure no one does."
"It's the same with all warlords," Shira had said dismissively.
"Not so, Shira. The other warlords are concerned with their people, and so they see to it that their soldiers behave."
Aadron certainly cared. Her hands stroked the horse's head, almost absently. The horse had been a gift from him. When he came back after capturing Sylven and destroying the Assassins, he had sent for her.
"Sylven was an unexpected bonus," he had told her, as if she was a friend or even one of his generals. "I was just lucky that Semil's captain there was greedy."
She had congratulated him and had told him she was leaving Hardin.
"Where will you be going, my Lady?" he had asked her.
"I cannot tell you that, my lord."
He had nodded. "But you should accept a parting gift from me," he had said. "It might come in useful in your travels."
She stepped away from the horse and started filling the trough with water. The horse had been more than useful. Without it, she would never have made it this far so quickly, and once she had rescued the two girls, the horse had really been a boon. She knew it would have been a torment to walk all this way with the girls.
Having fed and watered the horse, she went back to the house, again avoiding the front door. No one seemed to have stirred within yet. She sat down at the kitchen table, and thought about Aadron. It was good that he respected her, and treated her as an equal, in spite of how their association started. He seemed sympathetic to the Sisterhood’s goals, too. She wondered if she could have stayed in Hardin and wrangled some concessions from him.
She smiled wryly and shook her head. Aadron might have been sympathetic, but he was far too practical to give them any more than he already had. She had to leave anyway. They had to rescue as many orphans as they could, build their ranks, and then they could start making demands. Or better yet, they could have their own city, and live there, free of interference from anyone.
She had to wake the children before the water became cold. She looked outside through the window, and frowned as she saw something at the distance. She went outside, raising her small spyglass to her eyes to get a better look and gave a soundless gasp as she saw the soldiers. They were at a distance yet, but there was no doubt that they were coming to the village. The banner they were carrying—an orange coloured tree with a wide canopy, and deep tangled roots, against a white background—was Semil's. Layla went to the room where the children were sleeping. Her sword was there, kept along with the rest of her things on a table. She took it. It wasn’t enough, but she would still do what she could.
Arrival at Mirrel
The contingent that rode into Mirrel were greeted at the gates with the intelligence that Lord Syamin wanted to have speech with the prisoner as soon as he was brought in. He was at the House of Nadais. Captain Vasry and his men made their way across to the sprawling grounds of Aster's mansion. Pelmeya rode with the Captain. Radik rode on her other side. Amrose was bound hand and foot and was thrown over a horse and tied to it. It was not a dignified position to be in, but as it was his own choices that had led to him being there, no one had any sympathy for him.
The city of Mirrel was beautiful, and the house of Nadais epitomised everything Mirrel stood for. Pelmeya had heard tales of the city, and of how it used to be a centre of learning in the olden days. Mirrel was where the war had started when Semil had slaughtered the council that had ruled the Empire since the Emperor's death. For over seventy years the council had maintained its rule, but one sixteen year old boy had brought an end to all that. Aster had escaped Mirrel and gone into hiding until the city was taken back by Lord Kaylas’ army led by a young Syamin. From that day, Aster had never moved outside Mirrel. It was said he never even went outside the House of Nadais. Before the war, Aster used to visit other lands, and meet with their lords as well as their scholars and magicians. Pelmeya had been young in those days, and she had enjoyed the conversations she had had with Aster. The disciple of Nadais was old even then, though he had a timeless quality about him.
The horses came to a stop, and Pelmeya saw that they had reached their destination. Radik sighed in relief.
"It's not so bad inside the House of Nadais," he told her.
Pelmeya felt relief course through her at the words. She had been trying to keep it at bay, the discomfort at being here, where the magic thrummed all around her. It crackled in the air she breathed, but she was unable to find a vent. She had heard tales of magicians who had been driven insane in the shadow of Nadais, and she was beginning to understand why. When she had offered to accompany Myra on this trip, she had not realised what an ordeal it would be. Not that she regretted accompanying Myra, but she wished Myra hadn’t come here either.
"How do you stand it?" She asked Radik as they dismounted and walked up the steps.
"I spend most of my time in the House of Nadais when I'm here. Other times, I accompany Syamin, and he’s mostly away from Mirrel, so.."
It was better inside the house, Pelmeya realised, as they crossed the threshold. It no longer felt as if the magic was reaching out to her, seeking to fill her. She could still feel it, but it was no longer interested in her.
Radik smiled at her. "I told you."
"Why is it so?" She asked.
"It is the House of Nadais," Radik said simply.
Not a satisfactory answer, but she had to be content with it for now.
They stopped as Aster appeared from a doorway to the right. "I welcome you to the House of Nadais," he bowed to them. "Lady Pelmeya, it has been long since your smile and conversation have gladdened my heart. Radik, I hope I find you well."
They both murmured appropriate responses while two of Vasry's men brought Amrose forward. Aster stared at him for a moment.
"Amrose," he said, his voice was cold. "You have displeased your master very much."
Amrose's chin went up. "Semil is the only master I know," he said. "And I've not displeased him."
There was no change in Aster's bearing or his expression, but Pelmeya could feel the fury rolling off of him.
"Take him to the dungeons," Aster said. "Let Syamin interrogate him. I cannot."
He was led away, and Pelmeya asked, "There are dungeons?"
Aster shrugged. "This used to be my nephew's home. His father-in-law was one of the Councillors. So, yes, there are dungeons, as did all other councillors’ houses. When he died, my nephew bequeathed this property to the Order of Nadais and went to Albin to take charge of his own lands."
"Albin.” Pelmeya said slowly. "Then he was-"
Aster nodded. "The late Lord Kaylas, Aadron's father."
"Lord Aadron is your grandnephew?" she was astonished. "And yet, you support Syamin?"
Aster shrugged. "I live here. Syamin has ensured that the war does not affect Mirrel. As for Aadron, while I do not wish to see him dead, I hardly know him."
Aster led them through a corridor, and Pelmeya was surprised to notice that Radik was no longer with them. In fact, the only ones there were she and the rest of Myra's contingent and Aster. They stopped before a door.
"This is the East Wing, where Lady Myra is housed," Aster said as he raised his hand to knock.
The door was opened by Mylwin. He looked good, all pallor gone, and he did not seem like a man who'd been on the cusp of death lately. Pelmeya couldn’t believe it, but she was glad of it and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face.
"Lady Pelmeya," he bowed deeply. "Great Aster."
Aster bowed in return and turned to her. "I shall take leave of you for now, my Lady. We shall talk later when you have rested enough."
Bowing to her, he left and Pelmeya and the rest of the contingent was led inside by Mylwin.
"Pelmeya!" Myra ran towards her, and Pelmeya hugged her as she threw herself into the older woman's arms. "Oh, Pelmeya, I've missed you so much!"
Myra burst into tears, to the stupefaction of her guards, and the surprise of her ladies. Pelmeya held her, stroked her hair and said, "It's all right, everything will be fine now. I'm here now, it's all right, my child."
She hugged her as tightly as she could, murmuring soothingly as she had done for nights on end when Myra, grieving the loss of her mother, and the withdrawal of her father, had come to her seeking comfort, and reassurance. Myra was no longer a child, and it had been years since she’d cried, and Pelmeya did not show her surprise, instead doing what she’d always done, being there and offering what comfort she could.
The guards withdrew through a side door and the ladies also made a hasty exit into another chamber, giving Pelmeya a chance to let her eyes roam through the room they were in. It was large, with one door leading to the living quarters of the guards and another leading to a smaller room which led to the ladies’ living quarters. It was beautiful, with large windows opening to the gardens, and was uncluttered by furniture. Myra looked well, Pelmeya noted. Her tears were probably the pent up emotions of the last few days catching up with her rather than ill treatment.
Myra disengaged herself from Pelmeya's arms, saying with a tremulous smile, "I'm sorry. I never meant to break down like that, not as soon as you walked in the door anyway."
"It's all right," Pelmeya said, her voice soft, as she watched Myra dry her eyes. "You needed that. Now that it's out of the way, we can discuss what’s to be done."
Myra's face clouded, and she bit her lip. "I really don't know what we can do, Pelmeya. In here, it's as if we're honoured guests, but we cannot escape. The entire city is full of Syamin's soldiers. They are very unobtrusive, but they are there."
"How did Mylwin heal so quickly?" Pelmeya asked. It had flabbergasted her, how he looked, when she had seen him at the door. "I wouldn’t have expected him even to survive."
"It was Aster," Myra said with awe in her voice. "He healed him with just a touch. It was like magic!"
"Magic cannot heal," Pelmeya said. "But I've heard tales that Aster can work the power of Nadais."
"Come into the apartments," Myra said. "Once you've rested and refreshed, we've to decide on what to do. Perhaps, you can find a way out of the city."
Pelmeya nodded, though her insides curled up and died at the prospect of going outside the mansion.
The Pieces in Place
Marian woke up feeling refreshed, and her mind lucid for the first time in many days. As she tried to rise, she realised that she was bound to the bed. She was still weak and though she tried to free herself, her fingers felt numb and she flopped back down, feeling furious and frustrated.
“You're up,” A quiet voice said from somewhere. Someone loosened her bonds and helped her sit up, propping her up against a pillow. It was an old man, she saw, and he smiled at her. There was something so familiar about him, though Marian was certain she had never seen him before.
“I'm sorry about the bonds, Lady Marian. Whilst you were ill, you were thrashing about a lot and we had to bind you so you would not fall off the bed.”
“Where am I?” She asked, looking around. She was in a room with large oval windows through which the afternoon sunshine was streaming in. The bed she was on was comfortable, as were the pillows. She was wearing a robe of some sort, and it was made of an unfamiliar cloth though it felt comfortable and was clean.
“You're in the House of Nadais, where you are meant to be,” The old man said. “I'm Aster, the Disciple of Nadais.”
“How did I get here?”
“You were taken ill and the inn-keep sent for me.”
“Are you a healer?”
“I can channel the power of Nadais to heal, if it is His wish. As will you, once you've been accepted by Him.”
“Accepted by him?” Marian wondered if the old man was crazy. Or perhaps proselytizing was part of the treatment here?
“I'm not crazy, Lady Marian,” He said quietly. “Nor do I proselytise. I know who you are. You have been chosen by Nadais to be his next disciple, to take your place here once I'm gone.”
“I don't know what you are talking about, and I don't care! When can I leave? How long have I been here?” She was shaken that he knew what she was thinking. It might have been a lucky guess, but it was uncanny.
“You've been here for some time,” Aster's reply was vague. “And as for leaving, that might be a problem.”
“Why? Am I not well yet?”
“You are, and within a few days, your weakness will pass, but I'm afraid I cannot let a spy of Semil walk out of here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don't know what you are talking about.”
“I think you do,” Aster said. “Syamin has been wanting to question you. So far, I've managed to stop him by citing your health, but I cannot keep protecting you. You came into Mirrel as a spy, and you shall be treated as such.”
“Unless I do what you want, is that it?”
“I cannot promise that,” Aster said. “I am only human, and it is for Nadais to protect his chosen one, as he has done so far.”
“Well then, I guess I'll just have to keep trusting my luck,” she said.
Aster bowed. “As you wish, my Lady. Though I must warn you that I shall be locking the door when I leave and that Syamin's soldiers are patrolling the corridors and underneath the windows.”
“I don't think I can escape even if I want to,” she said frankly. “I’m too weak even to move. I guess you knew that already.”
“You're probably right,” he said calmly, as he measured out a potion into a glass, and brought it to her. “About being too weak.”
“What is this?”
“A potion for your weakness. It shall help you sleep.”
“I don't want it!”
Aster placed the glass on a side table by her bed, and closed it with a lid.. “Sleep is what you need, if you are to be well enough to move about.”
“For what? So I can have a visit from your warlord?”
“Your weakness shall not deter Syamin if he chooses to question you, my Lady. He is otherwise occupied at the moment. You are not the only spy Semil has sent here.”
“Another spy?” She asked, frowning. Her lord's lack of trust in her hurt, but she couldn’t blame him. After all, she had failed him, and now she was all but a prisoner of this crazy old fool. She did not know yet how she was to escape from here, but escape she must. Perhaps, this new spy of her master could help? It seemed unlikely since he had been foolish enough to let himself be caught.
“Yes,” Aster nodded, watching her closely. She tried to force her expression into neutrality. “A magician named Amrose.”
Marian couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. Amrose? It was impossible! Her lord surely hadn’t sent Amrose here when he knew his magic would not work here! But how else could this Aster have known about Amrose? If Amrose was actually here, that meant her Lord had some plans that involved him. Perhaps it was fortunate that she was here. Perhaps she might be able to help him.
Marian had never liked the magician, nor did she respect him, but she knew that her Lord's purpose would be best served by helping Amrose succeed in whatever mission he had been sent on. That meant she had to break him out of prison. Her eyes roamed the room. She wasn’t bothered that Syamin's soldiers were patrolling under the windows. It was convenient in fact. She was unarmed, and her dress was hardly suitable for fighting. If she could overpower one of the soldiers, she could take his armour as well as weapons.
Aster sighed. “Lady Marian,” he said gently. “You are the chosen one of Nadais. You are not meant to serve any man. You are meant to serve only Nadais.”
“I have only one Lord,” She said. “He bought me from the slavers, and gave me a home, and a name. He allowed me to become a soldier. There's no one in the world who cares what's to become of me save for him. If not for him, I might have become a servant, or the mistress of some rich man, or perhaps a whore. I owe him everything and I belong to him. Don't tell me that I am not meant to serve him. He is my Lord. I do not see this Nadais you speak of.”
“There's so much hatred, and anger in your heart, my Lady. They prevent you from seeing the truth, and there's nothing I can say to change your mind. But change it you will, my Lady. Nadais doesn't choose lightly.”
“I don't care!” She said, defiantly. She was angry and she didn’t want to listen to the old fool going on about Nadais any more. He might believe his own sick imaginings, but she was not going to. Aster bowed and left. Marian heard the click as he locked the door. She stared at the potion he had poured out and picked up the glass, and removed the lid. It was pale blue in colour and had a fragrance that made her feel drowsy. She shook her head, and put it back on the side table. She didn’t need the potion. Aster was probably trying to get her to sleep, so she would not escape. She wouldn’t let him. The fumes from the potion were increasing her drowsiness now. She picked up the lid and tried to put it on, but her hand shook and she only managed to topple over the glass. The potion soaked into the carpet, and the fumes were now overpowering, and she choked on them, coughing. She tried to get up, but couldn't and she fell back onto her bed in a faint, perspiration breaking over her face and body.
The Attack
Layla waited until the soldiers got close enough to be seen from the village. There were not enough for an army, but enough to destroy a village. She went to Sadjah's room. She hated having to wake her host, but there didn’t seem to be any other option. Sadjah was getting up as she went into her room. She looked better, though she frowned at her.
"Is there something wrong? You look pale."
