destitution. The last time I saw her, she told me she had sent a message to Joyhinia at the Citadel, asking for help, in return for the favor she had done her years before. Joyhinia’s response was to send a troop of Defenders to burn the village. B’thrim was one of the first to be killed.”
“What favor?” Tarja asked. Bereth had told him much, but in reality she had told him nothing.
“B’thrim’s sister, J’nel, died in childbirth, Captain. She died giving birth to the girl you know as your sister.”
Tarja stared at the woman, stunned.
“Who is she, then?” Davydd asked, giving voice to the question Tarja was unable to ask.
“R’shiel? She’s the child of an illiterate mountain girl and an unknown father, I suppose. The story I got was that J’nel had disappeared into the Mountains at the beginning of spring and returned just before winter, heavily pregnant. She was frightened, hysterical, and covered with blood when she returned but refused to name the father. Haven was a superstitious village, and while they profess adherence to the laws of the Sisterhood, there were many who believed the Harshini still inhabited the Sanctuary Mountains. As no man in the village would own the child, they decided the child must be a sorcerer’s get and rejected it. Joyhinia didn’t care what the villagers thought. The child was the right age for her to invent her deception and an orphan that nobody wanted. All she needed was Jenga to go along with her. She probably thought the villagers would forget all about the child after a while.”
“Until B’thrim sent a message asking for help,” Tarja said.
“Taking an orphan in is one thing,” Bereth continued, “but to claim that child is your own and try to foist paternity onto the Lord Defender goes beyond the pale.” She glanced at Tarja thoughtfully. “The child must be almost grown by now.”
Tarja nodded. “She’s a Probate at the Citadel.”
Bereth shook her head. “So Joyhinia has a daughter to follow in her footsteps, and I have a clutch of starving orphans whose parents died to keep her secret. Most of those villagers in Haven would not have even remembered the child. That was her worst crime, Captain. It was so unnecessary.” The child in her lap had fallen into an uneasy sleep. She stroked her fine hair absently and looked at Tarja. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. I suppose you have some affection for the girl, although if Joyhinia has succeeded in raising her in her own image, I doubt she is very lovable.”
Tarja shook his head. “Joyhinia tries, but she hasn’t succeeded yet.”
“That’s something to be grateful for,” Bereth sighed. “But perhaps now, Captain, you can understand my reaction on learning who your mother is.”
Tarja climbed the crumbling tower later that evening and looked out over the dark plain. The clouds were breaking up, revealing patches of blue velvet sky sprinkled with pinpoints of light. He leaned on the cold stone, oblivious to the chill wind that cut through him, wondering what he should do with the information Bereth had given him. For that matter, would it even be his decision? Davydd Tailorson had heard the whole story and would report it to Garet Warner, without hesitation. That sort of information about a Quorum member was too important to keep to himself. He should have insisted on hearing the tale in private. He would have, had he any inkling of what he would learn.
The consequences to Joyhinia, when her lies were revealed, bothered Tarja not one whit. Joyhinia deserved whatever punishment the First Sisters deemed fit and the more severe the better. Expulsion from the Quorum, at the very least. She might even be forced into retirement. That prospect filled Tarja with savage delight. To see Joyhinia’s plans crumble at her feet like the ruins of this keep was almost worth it.
Almost.
There was R’shiel to consider. Joyhinia’s fall would drag R’shiel down with her. She deserved to know the truth, but did she deserve to suffer for it?
Tarja turned at the sound of a boot scraping on the stairs. Davydd took the last two steps in one stride and joined Tarja on the tower, glancing out over the plain, his arms wrapped around his body against the wind.
“Looks like it won’t rain, after all,” the young man remarked.
“Looks like it.” He waited for Davydd to speak again; he had not climbed the tower to talk about the weather.
“I have to tell the Commandant,” he said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “It would be treason to withhold what I learned here.”
“Treason?” Tarja asked.
“The Commandant might not...” he began, but his voice trailed off. Both he and Tarja knew that Garet Warner would use the information against Joyhinia as surely as Davydd would have to report it.
“He will. But he has to know the truth. So does R’shiel, for that matter, although I worry more about her than Joyhinia. My mother deserves whatever is coming to her.”
“I’ve seen your sister at the Citadel. She’s very pretty.”
“She is,” he agreed. “And apparently she’s not my sister.”
“At the risk of sounding trite, there’ll be a lot of officers at the Citadel quite pleased to learn that, sir.”
Tarja laughed, despite himself. “Including you, Lieutenant?”
“I... er... well, it’s not that I ever...” Davydd stammered, the first time Tarja had seen him lost for words.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’m sure your intentions are entirely honorable. But before you tell Garet Warner what we learned here today, spare a thought for R’shiel. Once this becomes common knowledge, she’ll be an outcast.”
“It’s hardly her fault,” Davydd objected. “You don’t think people will hold it against her, do you? I mean, she’s a Probate. She’ll be a Sister within a couple of years.”
“You’ve a lot to learn about the Sisterhood, Davydd,” Tarja told him wearily. “They won’t care that Joyhinia lied to them. But they’ll be very put out that she has played them all for fools.”
“It doesn’t seem fair, sir.”
“That’s life, Lieutenant,” Tarja replied, more bitterly than he intended. The young man was silent for a moment, surprised at Tarja’s tone.
“Will you report this to Lord Jenga?”
“Jenga has a right to know the truth, too. Joyhinia has been trading on her supposed relationship with him for years.”
“Assuming he doesn’t already know,” Davydd remarked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, someone in the Defenders sent those men to destroy the village. Joyhinia didn’t do that alone. Besides, the Lord Defender could have exposed Joyhinia years ago, unless he had a reason not to.”
Tarja stared at the young man, appalled by his suggestion. “Jenga would never order such a thing!”
Davydd shrugged. “You know him better than I do, sir. But unless Sister Joyhinia forged the orders and the Defender’s seal that authenticates them, there is at least one senior officer involved. And you have to admit, Jenga’s refusal to deny he’s R’shiel’s father does look suspicious.”
Was it possible? Tarja shivered in the darkness, but the cold that chilled him came from inside. Ever since he had been old enough to recognize it for what it was, Tarja had watched the Sisters of the Blade grow increasingly tainted by the stench of corruption, like milk slowly souring in the heat on a hot summer’s day.
For the first time, Tarja allowed himself to wonder if that corruption had spread to the Corps and reached as high as the Lord Defender.
chapter 10
Tarja spent a sleepless night in the ruined keep, listening to the heartbreaking coughs of the little girl by the fire and wondering who in the Defenders had followed Joyhinia’s orders to destroy Haven. Any Commandant could, in theory, have issued the order. That narrowed the suspects down to about fifteen men, excluding Jenga, whom he
