“Yes, Dace, you said they weren’t dead,” Mahina agreed. “Now keep your damned voice down, before you manage to remedy the situation by bringing a whole taproom full of Defenders in here with your shouting.”
Dace looked rather abashed at Mahina’s scolding, but nothing could wipe the smile from his face. He immediately demanded a full and complete blow-by-blow description of their every move since they disappeared from the stables.
“I’ll let R’shiel fill you in,” he told the boy. That way she could tell Dace as much or as little as she chose.
“I’d best be going,” Sunny said, slipping from the room.
R’shiel and Dace stood by the window talking in low voices. Tarja glanced at Mahina, who shook her head.
“When Joyhinia hears this news, she is going to rue the day she ever laid eyes on either of you.”
“I think she’s long past that point.”
“Be very careful, Tarja. She won’t make the same mistake again. There will be no trials, no court of law. If you fail, she will kill you.”
chapter 58
They could see the flares from the torches gathered around the farmhouse for quite some time before they reached the old vineyard. R’shiel looked worriedly at Tarja as they rode at a canter toward the rebels, wondering what he was thinking. What would he say to them? Would he live long enough to say anything? As if sensing her concern he looked at her and smiled.
“Don’t worry. I’ve survived this long. I’m sure I’ll get through the next few hours.”
R’shiel wasn’t sure she shared his confidence. She glanced at Dace who rode on her left and wondered why he hadn’t been in the least bit surprised or concerned by her news. His face was alight with excitement at the prospect of facing action with the rebels.
Tarja slowed their pace as they neared the first lookout, posted about half a league from the vineyard. To Tarja’s obvious relief, the guard proved to be Ghari’s cousin, a taciturn, hirsute man with big farmer’s hands. He was not the most encouraging example of the rebellion’s mettle, but he could be trusted not to kill Tarja on sight. He nodded gravely to his former leader.
“Ghari said you’d be comin‘ this way. You’re either very brave, or very foolish, Cap’n.”
“A bit of both, I fear, Herve,” Tarja replied. “Are they all up at the farmhouse?”
“All them that’s comin,” he said with a shrug. “Two hun’ed, maybe three.”
Tarja scowled. R’shiel knew that he was counting on twice that number. Tarja looked across at her and Dace. “Well, let’s do it then.”
He kicked his horse forward, but she followed more slowly, a little less enthusiastic about riding into the middle of three hundred angry rebels than Tarja. Dace seemed to share Tarja’s suicidal enthusiasm and quickly caught up with him. She hurried her horse forward as if her mere proximity could offer him some form of protection.
Word spread quickly through the rebels that Tarja had arrived, and a torchlit clearing opened ominously before them as they rode into the yard. R’shiel didn’t know what Ghari had said to the rebels before they arrived, but it had been enough to stay their hand temporarily. They were to be given a hearing, it seemed, before the rebels made their decision.
Tarja sat tall in the saddle, partly to allow him to see over the crowd and partly because he wasn’t stupid. Mounted, he might have some small chance at escape if the rebels turned on him. He had insisted that Dace and R’shiel remain mounted, too.
R’shiel watched the rebels nervously. Ghari jumped down from the wagon bed under the tree where Tarja was to have been hanged so recently. R’shiel’s horse, borrowed from Affiana’s stables, tossed his head irritably, as if he sensed the uneasy feeling of the mob.
“Well, I’ve done all I can,” Ghari told Tarja. “They’re not happy, but they’re not unreasonable. Good luck.”
Tarja turned back to the rebels and studied them in silence. Many of the faces remained shadowed and anonymous behind the smoky torches.
“Tonight we unite Medalon!” Tarja said in a voice that had been trained to be heard across the Citadel parade ground. She was startled by the effect it had on the rebels. Defiant these men might be, but they were conditioned from birth to respond to authority. Tarja knew that, and was relying on his manner, as much as his words, to convince these men.
“What you think of me is irrelevant. That I did not betray you is a fact that you must accept. I didn’t come here to offer you an apology or an idle promise of better times ahead. I offer you action. Medalon faces a threat from an enemy far worse than the Sisterhood. Soon the Kariens will be crossing our northern border. The Kariens will not deny you the opportunity to worship your gods. They will destroy anyone who refuses to worship theirs. The treaty between Medalon and Karien is destroyed. The Sisterhood must now bend its efforts to protecting Medalon. To do that, they need our help. Most of you profess to want nothing more than to be left alone with the chance to worship your gods in peace. I offer you a chance to act on what you profess to believe or to slink home like cowards to hide behind the skirts of your mothers and your wives.”
R’shiel cringed as Tarja sat his horse in front of three hundred angry rebels and accused them of being cowards. She glanced at Dace, but the boy was as entranced by Tarja as the rebels were.
“Our northern border lies undefended while the Sisterhood moves the Defenders to Testra to destroy us. They know nothing of the Karien threat. Once they do, we have a chance to resolve this. The Sisterhood cannot support a Purge and a war at the same time.”
“More likely they’ll just make sure we’re all dead first!” a voice called out.
Tarja glanced over his shoulder at R’shiel before continuing, as if asking her for permission for what he was about to do. She nodded minutely.
“If you won’t do it for me, then do it for yourselves. For your gods. For the Harshini.”
At the mention of the Harshini, someone in the crowd finally overcame their thrall to call out angrily, “We’re not children Tarja! You’ll not save your precious neck by spinning fairy tales! The Sisterhood destroyed the Harshini, just as they plan to destroy us!”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the mob. Tarja waited patiently for it to subside before continuing. “I do not offer you tales to entertain children. The Harshini once roamed this land in peace until the Sisterhood forced them into hiding. Medalon flourished under their hand. They are still with us. I have spoken with them. I have spoken with their demons.”
R’shiel watched as Tarja’s words were met with derision. She moved her horse forward and rode up beside him.
“He speaks the truth about the Harshini!” she called to the rebels. “I am one of them!”
“You’re a liar!” a voice shouted angrily.
“You’re the First Sister’s daughter!”
“It’s your fault the Defenders are here!”
“I am Harshini! I am Joyhinia’s child. I was born in a village called Haven. My mother was human, but my father was Lorandranek! I am the demon child!”
Her declaration was met with startled silence. Even Tarja spared her an astonished glance. In truth, she had surprised herself. She caught sight of Dace, out of the corner of her eye, riding forward to snatch a torch from one of the rebels.
He rode back and handed it to her, leaning forward as he spoke. “Hold it up and don’t drop it,” he whispered. With no idea what he was planning, she held the torch aloft.
“The threat of the Karien zealots is real,” she continued. “I have seen their evil with my own eyes. You once revered the Harshini. The time has come for you to step forward to defend them.” R’shiel could feel Dace in the background as the intoxicating sweetness of the Harshini magic washed over her. She recognized it for what it was now and was startled to realize that not only could Dace touch it, but he could do so with a finesse that made
