might have betrayed him, prepared to believe otherwise until he had been confronted by incontrovertible proof of Tarja’s treachery.
“I don’t believe you,” R’shiel insisted stubbornly.
“Then more fool you, girl.”
Padric emerged from the house in the company of Mandah, who avoided meeting R’shiel’s eye. He remounted, followed by two other rebels, then walked his horse forward and took the lead rein from the rebel holding her horse. His eyes were sad as he looked at her.
“It’ll be best if we leave now, lass,” he said. “You’ll not want to see what’s coming next.”
R’shiel glared at him. “You’re murderers! That’s all you are! Miserable, cold-blooded murderers. You’re going to murder Tarja, and you’re going to murder me!”
Padric pulled her horse closer to his. “Tarja has betrayed us both, R’shiel. His death is deserved. Yours will be unfortunate, but I’ve fought too long to stop now.” He kicked his horse forward, jerking her mare with him, and they galloped out of the yard. R’shiel looked back over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Tarja. Within moments, they were out of sight of the old vineyard.
They galloped at a nightmare pace along a track that was barely visible in the darkness. R’shiel was an experienced horsewoman, but her horse was being led, so she could do little but cling grimly with aching thighs and hope that she didn’t fall off. A fall at this breakneck pace would kill her. Of course, she was riding helter-skelter to a fate worse than death in any case, so it really did not matter if she broke her neck in a fall. It was almost enticing.
They rode along the edge of the river as the sky lightened into morning, and R’shiel could make out a small jetty where the elaborately decorated ship was moored. It was three times the size of the
Lord Pieter, dressed in decorative Karien armor, stepped onto the gangway and walked down the jetty to greet Padric. Following him was Elfron, wearing a simple brown cassock. He carried his glorious golden staff, which glittered in the dawn light. R’shiel dared hope a little at the sight of the priest. Pieter would not be able to indulge in anything remotely sinful with him on board.
“You have her?” the knight asked Padric, looking past the old rebel and straight at R’shiel.
“Aye.”
“Bring her here,” the knight ordered. “Elfron? What do you think?”
The priest walked down the jetty until he reached R’shiel’s horse. He studied her intently for a moment before laying the staff gently on her shoulder.
R’shiel screamed as intense pain shot through her like a white-hot lance. In agony, she fell from the horse and landed heavily on the ground.
Excitedly, Elfron touched the staff to her shoulder again and R’shiel screamed anew, certain her body would explode under the torment. He withdrew the staff and turned back to the knight.
“This is magic!” he declared in astonishment, as if he had never truly expected to see the effect of his staff on another living being. “The heathen magicians cannot fight the Staff of Xaphista. My vision was true! She is one of them!” He reached down and jerked R’shiel to her feet. She was sobbing uncontrollably, pain radiating from her shoulder. As she looked up, the Karien knight took a step backward.
“You have done well,” the Envoy told Padric, then he turned to Elfron and added, “Get her on the boat, quickly!”
Padric looked stunned and more than a little guilty as the priest dragged R’shiel away.
“What will you do with the girl?” Padric asked.
“The Staff of Xaphista is infallible! You have brought us proof that the Sisterhood harbors the Harshini. You can be assured that we will be forever grateful for your assistance. As for the girl, she will be burned on the altar of Xaphista in the Temple at Yarnarrow, as the Overlord showed us in Elfron’s vision.”
“Just you be sure to keep your side of the bargain.”
Pieter handed a heavy purse to the rebel, somewhat disdainfully. “I have given you my pledge, sir!”
The Envoy followed the priest onto the boat and gave the order to push off. R’shiel collapsed to her knees and knelt on the deck, watching the old rebel through tear-filled eyes as the boat moved out into the swift current. The old man stared at her, his expression distraught. A fine time to have an attack of guilt, R’shiel thought.
The agony subsided a little as the figures of the rebels on the wharf grew smaller and smaller in the distance. R’shiel cursed them all, fervently hoping that Padric lived a long, long time and suffered the guilt of his betrayal for the rest of his miserable life.
chapter 47
Jenga delivered the news of the escape from the Grimfield personally. Hearing Tarja had escaped with R’shiel was bad enough, but the news that Mahina was with them was of far greater concern. Reports from the Grimfield suggested that Mahina was a hostage, but Joyhinia did not believe that for a moment. She ordered him to face the Quorum and explain how such a thing could have occurred.
The rebellion had hurt Joyhinia more than she cared to admit, both personally and politically. Lord Pieter had been back on his annual visit, insisting that she allow the Kariens to deal with the ongoing problem of the heathen rebels. Her Purge, which had sounded so reasonable when she had removed Mahina, had brought nothing but scorn from the Envoy. He had all but accused Joyhinia of being in league with the heathens.
“How in the Founders’ name did Mahina get mixed up in this?” Harith demanded, almost before the Quorum had taken their seats. It was rare that Jenga was invited to the meetings these days. Usually, he must rely on Draco’s terse reports. The Spear of the First Sister stood behind the First Sister’s desk by the wall, his expression implacable. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
“Tarja’s friendship with Mahina was no secret. He may have called on that friendship to aid in his escape,” Francil suggested. “Did it occur to anyone, when we decided to send him there, that Mahina was also at the Grimfield?”
The women all looked at Joyhinia accusingly.
“Do you have any idea of the damage she could do if she decides to throw her lot in with the rebels?” Louhina added.
“Mahina won’t betray us. She may have been misguided, but she would not turn on her own kind.”
“That’s not what you said when we threw her out,” Harith pointed out. “In fact, the word ‘betrayal’ featured rather prominently in your impassioned campaign to have her removed. Could it be that you might have made an error in judgment, First Sister?”
“I think you are overreacting, Harith. You forget that Mahina is an old woman. Tarja and R’shiel are heading for the Sanctuary Mountains. I suspect they will dump her somewhere along the way so she doesn’t slow them down. They may even kill her, which would be convenient.”
Jenga was appalled by her remark. None of the Quorum blinked.
“We need to take decisive action,” Joyhinia continued. “We must have troops in place to recapture the fugitives as soon as they are located.”
Joyhinia’s political survival depended on giving the impression that victory was certain. Troop movements would go a long way to convincing the Kariens that she was firm in her resolve to destroy the heathens, and if that meant mobilizing the entire Corps, she didn’t seem to care. And it would keep everyone’s thoughts occupied, Jenga thought, resenting her use of the Defenders in such a manner.
“Of course, I will announce publicly that we will spare no effort in rescuing Mahina from the rebels.” She turned to Jenga, acknowledging his presence for the first time. “I want the Defenders sent downriver to Testra immediately, as many as you can muster. It’s the most logical place to stage any offensive on the Sanctuary Mountains and that appears to be where they’re headed.” She glanced at the Sisters, before adding, “I need not add, my Lord Defender, that Mahina’s rescue is not the overriding concern in this campaign.”
“Your Grace?” Jenga asked, not at all certain he believed what she had just ordered him to do.
“Is there a problem, my Lord?”
