She approached the newcomer, who, to his credit, did not laugh, or shrink, or give ground to this odd woman. In point of fact it was Horst who found himself becoming uneasy as Shear closed upon the young fellow until the two were nearly touching. Never had he seen anyone endure the strange outlander’s gaze for so long – not even he, and he was her employer.
He was also struck by how similar the two appeared; both in loose unadorned trousers and shirts, both wiry and lean, he with a simple utilitarian longsword at his side, she with twinned equally plain and functional swords at hers.
After a rather uncomfortably long time Shear turned away, without lowering her gaze, and returned to Horst. As she passed, she gave the slightest nod of assent, and Horst found himself releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them. ‘Very good. We leave tomorrow. Your name?’
‘Dassem, sir.’
‘Sir? What do I look like? A damned Bloorian fop? That’s Horst. Caravan-master to you. Your cart will bring up the rear.’
If the young lad was resentful of the order of march he did not show it; he remained oddly calm, tranquil beyond his years. Again Horst was struck by an odd similarity with the outlander swords-woman, Shear. She too projected a strange serenity – even when cutting outlaws in half.
* * *
The slight creak of the opening door woke Tayschrenn. His cell was the utter black of any subterranean unlit cave, yet his eyes, like the eyes of all those sworn to D’rek, could penetrate the gloom.
Recognizing the figure now slowly closing the unlockable door behind her, he said, wryly, ‘This in an infraction of the rules, Silla.’
She turned, finger to her mouth. ‘Shh! Quiet.’ She sat next to him on the rope cot. ‘You should go tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘Tell no one. Just leave. Find a distant temple – any would welcome an adept of your rank.’
He smiled, quite amused. ‘Whatever for?’
She peered round. The open fear in her eyes sobered him. ‘Have you not been paying attention?’
‘Attention to what?’
She raised her open hands, exasperated. ‘To the questionings! The arrests! The disappearances.’
He shrugged. ‘It is normal for any new regime to see to its security.’
Silla lowered her voice even further, fierce. ‘All those being taken were close to Ithell. Don’t you see it? He is working his way up to you!’
‘Who?’
She squeezed her hands between her legs, lowering her head. ‘Tallow – or his people.’
‘Yet you welcomed him.’
‘I did not expect this. He is the Invigilator! An authority in the cult…’ She struggled to find the words, threw out her hands in frustration. ‘Why? Why this? It isn’t necessary!’
Tayschrenn dared to rest a hand on her shoulder. ‘Perhaps it is cult business. Perhaps he is following his duty. Do not worry. I have nothing to fear. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
The look she gave him was one of incredible pity. ‘Oh, Tay. You are so naïve. This is not about doing right or wrong, or following rules. This is about power.’
Feeling rather stung, he removed his hand. ‘I happen to know a thing or two about power.’
She took his hand, squeezed it. ‘Yes. I’ve heard all the stories. That when they awoke you to the Warrens the entire island shook. That all the elders combined could not master you even as a child. None dispute your might. What I am talking about is a different kind of power. Political power. Rulership. You are a threat to those in power now. Promise me you will go … please.’
He shook his head. ‘No. I will not flee. That would be tantamount to an admission of guilt. I have done nothing wrong. I welcome any questioning. I will be exonerated.’
Her sad look remained. ‘Oh, Tay … you think you cannot be touched. But you can. One day you’ll see.’ She pulled her hand away and he was surprised by how cold his own quickly felt. At the door she paused, whispering, ‘I hope it will not break you when it happens.’
* * *
Two days later they came for him.
It was the middle of the night when four of the Invigilator’s deputized special proctors came to his door to escort him to the courts. He offered them no resistance. They led him through empty, little-used tunnels and it soon became apparent that they were not taking him to the open general assembly hall, but to private chambers.
They sat him in a chair at the centre of an empty room lit by a few sullen candles and then withdrew. He assumed he was supposed to be nervous, his mind racing regarding what this was all about, growing more frantic as each moment passed, creating all sorts of fantastical scenarios of accusation and guilt. He waited instead with hands clasped and eyes shut, meditating.
After some time footsteps announced a visitor. He opened his eyes to see Tallow himself in the flickering gold candlelight and somehow he was not surprised in the least. The man wore a pained, saddened expression, and held his hands clasped behind his back.
‘Tayschrenn…’ The Invigilator sounded weary and regretful.
‘Yes?’ he interrupted, making an effort to appear especially attentive.
Tallow’s thick lips compressed tightly for a moment before he continued, ‘I want you to know that I personally do not wish to follow through with what has been ordered, but I am powerless before the will of the investigative council…’
‘And these are?’
The heavy-set priest blinked, frowning. ‘These are who?’
‘The council. Which priests and priestesses are these?’
Tallow shook his gleaming bullet-shaped head. ‘Tayschrenn … I am disappointed. Recriminations against the court will not help you now. It is too late for such games.’
‘Games?’ Tayschrenn repeated, one brow arched.
‘Indeed. During questionings troubling facts and accusations regarding you have arisen. These all require further investigation. It is my unhappy duty to see to this.’
‘Questioning … torture, you mean.’
‘Determined interrogation,’ Tallow corrected.
‘And these accusations are?’
Tallow raised a hand. ‘All in good time. More facts must be gathered. We must be thorough. Until then, please consider yourself under a sort of unofficial house arrest. More isolated quarters will be provided where you should reflect upon your past behaviour. Follow the proctors and please – do not cause any trouble.’
Tayschrenn understood that Tallow very much hoped he would cause trouble. Insubordination would make the man’s job so very much easier. He decided, then, not to make any protest at all – not that he’d planned to in any case.
Tallow motioned and the four proctors emerged from the gloom. They now held staves and one pointed aside, inviting Tayschrenn that way. He rose, saying to Tallow, ‘Until we meet in the temple courts for my hearing, then.’
A sideways humourless smile climbed the priest’s lips, and of all that had unfolded or been said that evening, that smile was the only thing that made Tayschrenn uneasy. ‘Until then.’
His new ‘quarters’ proved to be a cell close to the shore. So close in fact from the evidence of salt saints and damp that waves must splash in through its barred window during high tides. The proctors waved him in and closed the door, and he heard a lock being shut. This must be one of the very few lockable rooms in the entire temple complex.
He sat on the cold stone ledge, its blankets rotting and stiff with dried salt. The flimsy door and simple lock were no barrier to him, and the sea beckoned as the waves came surging against the rocks just beneath.
They expect me to run, he realized, almost in disbelief. They wanted him to run. This cell was designed to lure him into fleeing. So close; so simple. And that would make Tallow’s job so very easy, wouldn’t it. Admission of guilt to any and all false accusations.
Well, he would not make Tallow’s life easier.
He could outwait them, and endure anything they might invent. In his researches into the Warrens he’d stood before the vast emptiness of the Abyss itself, and faced entities that would blast the minds of any or all of these so-called masters.