He bursts into action all of a sudden, rummaging among the piles of paper scattered around the room. 'Look! If you're in any doubt that the Gurta knew our plans ahead of the attack, look at this.' He slaps a sheet onto a clear spot on one of the desks and smoothes it out. I recognise it immediately. It's a topographical map of the cavern where Korok lies, dominated by the lake in its centre. Coloured arrows and markers depict the movement of various forces around the landscape.
'How'd you get this?' I ask.
'We made it. It's compiled of eyewitness accounts from survivors, interviews with the soldiers who were there.' He catches the scepticism on my face. 'What, you think we can lift this stuff out of the Plutarch's records? We do what we can with what we have.'
'So what does this prove?' I ask, studying it.
'Just look at it. These here, this gang of Gurta bowmen? They were spotted moving towards this rise even before the soldiers they came to intercept were given the orders to go there. You see? They knew where the Eskarans were heading before our soldiers did.' He points to another spot on the map. 'Same thing happened here. There's just no way they could have reacted quick enough unless they already knew the attack was coming. You ever see Gurta this organised?'
I stare at the map. He makes a good point.
'They weren't even supposed to know you intended to take back Korok, but they'd placed explosives all over the port,' he says. 'They took out a ridge here and caused a landslide. Killed dozens of our people. And notice how they positioned the shard-cannon emplacements to overlook the areas where our troops were concentrated? That takes time to set up and supply. And look! Look how big the lake is! Think they could have got their ships from the other side that fast? Nah, they must have already had ships waiting in the lake even before Eskaran forces entered the cavern.'
I can feel something building inside me again as I gaze at the map: the anger, the frustration, the hate. I know the evidence is unreliable and yet I can't help but be convinced because I know how the game works and I know this is how it's played.
'Listen,' says Barlan, 'You swore your life to the high-ups and this may be hard to hear, but someone told the Gurta our plans. Someone important enough to know the tactics. That makes it a Warmaster at least, but most likely an aristo.' He shakes his head angrily. 'Someone sold us out. That's a fact. And you know what's worse? Someone could have told us who. But they got to him first.'
'Someone knew who the traitor was?'
'That was the rumour. Small-time merchant, he put out the word that he had evidence about some aristo dealing with the Gurta. But he was greedy. Wouldn't tell anyone until he got paid. He wanted to sell the evidence to the highest bidder, but he knew it was dangerous, so he tried to broker the deal through some crimelord out of Mal Eista. He got protection and a place to hide, and the crimelord was supposed to make the deal on his behalf in return for a cut of the money.' Barlan snarls. 'Fucking idiot. The traitor got to him, took him out before he could sell his little secret. All that stuff at Korok wouldn't have happened if that guy had just done the right thing.'
I can feel myself growing cold, and everything seems distant. My hangover has suddenly receded.
'What was his name?' I ask, but I already know his name.
'Gorak Jespyn,' Barlan replies.
Gorak Jespyn. The man I killed, quick and quiet, in his sleep, just like I was told to.
The traitor got to him.
8
'Who exactly do you think you are, Orna?'
The temperature in Ledo's private chambers seems to drop a notch. Suddenly I become very aware of myself, of the room around me. Swirled marble everywhere, gems inlaid in patterns on the floor, crystal columns through which clear waters flow. Behind where my master sits a four-legged beast is pawing the air. It's one of the half dozen sculptures in the room, all of them woven from hardened sap spun thin as thread, glistening in the light of the hooded lanterns. Ledo only keeps lanterns in his chambers. He doesn't like shinestones: he says the light makes everything feel cold.
Ledo looks up from the letter which he's barely read. A letter from the Dean of Engineers of Bry Athka University. This letter should open any doors that need opening, he'd said. Not this one, apparently.
Liss and Casta stand together at their brother's side. It's been some time since I saw them last, but they haven't altered in the interim, which is a surprise in itself. Liss is still pale and ragged and waiflike, Casta black-skinned, red-eyed and flame-haired.
I swallow against a dry throat and speak. 'Magnate, I'm only trying to explain how Jai would be more useful to you if he were-'
'I know what you're saying,' he interrupts me. 'Shut up.' He's more direct than I remember him. He's bulked out and turned his hair and eyes black, in stark contrast to his white skin. Perhaps it's the fashion now.
I wait for him to speak again, and as I do I glance at the twins. Liss is wringing her hands. Casta looks grave. After we pulled into the Veya trainyards I went home to change and grab the letter from the Dean before going to see the twins. They were kind and understanding, and they promised to do the best they could. But their best obviously wasn't close to good enough. Suddenly I have the feeling that this was a lost battle from the start.
'You forget your place, Orna, and you forget your son's,' he says, his voice low and gravelly where it was previously high and soft. 'You are both in Bond to Clan Caracassa. The Bond is an obligation to submit to the will of your master, without question, without hesitation. Is that not so?'
'You didn't order Jai to join the Army-'
'Is that not so?' he barks.
'Yes,' I reply, bridling.
He sits back, satisfied that he has established his authority over me. As if it was ever in question. 'My sisters have explained your situation. I am not unsympathetic. Rynn was a great loss to us all. Your ordeal has been terrible indeed.' He taps his fingers on the stone armrest of the bench he sits on. 'But you forget your place. A Bondswoman does not lecture her master on how best to utilise those who serve him.'
'Magnate, I didn't presume to lecture, only to offer advice as to talents that may have escaped your notice. The letter in your hand testifies to his skill in engineering and invention. They're desperate to teach him. These are assets to the Clan that will be wasted if he is…' I can't bring myself to finish. 'I beg you.'
He sighs, but there's no real regret in it. 'Your motivations are transparent,' he says. 'If your concern for the Clan was so great, you would have raised this issue years ago.'
'That was my greatest mistake,' I reply, and the words taste bitter.
'The boy himself chose his path. He was allowed to join the Army because we prefer our people willing. He showed little enthusiasm for being an inventor, despite his talent.'
'That was because he wanted the approval of his-'
'Do you think you know better than your son what path his life should take?'
'I'm certain it's his wish as much as mine,' I reply, though I'm not at all certain. It's entirely possible he'll stick this course, even against his natural inclinations, out of loyalty to his father. I doubt it, but he might. The wishes of the dead become somehow sacred in a way they never were in life. That's why I want him to hear the news about Rynn from me, if he hasn't already found out. I want to talk to him, to persuade him to come back to what he values: to Reitha and the University.
'That is not an answer to my question,' Ledo says.
I phrase my reply carefully. 'I have fought for you and killed for you and watched my husband die for you, and I know my son. He doesn't have the temperament to survive it.'
'Perhaps he will surprise you.' Ledo smiles a little. He's toying with me, the fucker, and I have no option but to play his game, knowing I'm going to lose. He's enjoying making me sound like a wheedling, overprotective woman trying to gather her son back under her apron. But he's never seen battlefields full of people with half their heads gone, he's never seen someone's arm ripped off, he's never seen their manhood stripped away until they're just boys, screaming for their mothers as their blood runs unstoppably into the earth. He'll never understand that I cannot allow my son to be among those men.