Treason Keep

that.”

“Then you will leave me to do fulfil my destiny as I see fit?”

The War God frowned. “You will go to Slarn and destroy Xaphista. What else is to be done?”

“Xaphista’s power is drawn from his believers in Karien. I can’t destroy him without destroying that too.”

He thought on that and then nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Then you’ll leave me be? No more tests? No more tempering?”

“But...”

“Zegarnald, you have to trust me. I’m the only one who can do this. You have to let me do it my way. I’m half human. I know how humans think. I need you to promise that you will not interfere unless I ask you to.”

“You ask a great deal of me, demon child.”

“You’re asking a great deal of me,” she pointed out.

The God of War thought over the problem for a while before he nodded his agreement.

“Very well. I will do as you ask.”

“Give me your oath.”

“You doubt me?” He swelled at the implied insult.

“No. That’s why I want your oath.”

“Very well, I give you my solemn promise I will not interfere in your handling of this affair unless you ask it.”

“No matter what happens?”

“No matter what happens,” he agreed unhappily.

R’shiel smiled at him. “Thank you, Divine One. Now, just to prove that I will need your help from time to time, I have a job for you.”

“A job?”

“Yes. I want you to find Damin’s brother, Narvell, the Warlord of Elasapine and get him to turn back. Tell him he has to protect Krakandar from a Fardohnyan invasion.”

“I AM NOT YOUR MESSENGER!” the god boomed, making the ground shake with his indignation.

“As you wish,” she shrugged, turning away from him. “If Hablet crosses the Hythrun border too easily, there won’t be a battle. On the other hand, if Narvell turns back, there should be a nice little bloodbath. But, if you’d rather not...”

“Perhaps I could consent to do this one favour for you,” the god conceded with ill grace. “But I am not your messenger, demon child. Do not presume to use me in such a manner again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Divine One.”

It was nearly dark when R’shiel returned to the camp and she rode straight to the infirmary tent to check on Tarja.

Outwardly, his condition had not changed. He still lay as pale as death and barely breathing, but the fact that he still lived at all was a good sign. As she knelt beside the pallet, she was shocked to see his hands and feet bound to the bed with sturdy ropes.

Angrily, she turned on the medic who was changing the bandages of a man on the other side of the tent.

“Who did this?” she demanded.

“That man who came with you,” the medic shrugged. “Jack, or Brak, or whatever his name is. He said things might get a bit rough and that tying him down was for his own protection.”

R’shiel was horrified and fully intended to confront Brak about such a barbarous practice, but she was not so sure of herself that she untied the ropes. She sat with Tarja for a time, stroking his pallid forehead, trying to will him to live, before she left the Infirmary to seek Brak out.

It was fully dark when she emerged from the Infirmary and she looked about with a frown, realising she had no idea where Brak would be. She was still pondering the problem when faint voices raised in anger reached her. One of the voices was unmistakably female and R’shiel could easily guess who it was.

Curiously, she followed the sound to a tent not far from the one where she and Adrina had been held prisoner. She could see Adrina’s silhouette through the canvas wall as she paced in front of the lamp. They could probably hear her in Talabar.

“In case you’re interested, the whole camp can hear you screeching,” she announced as she pushed the flap back.

Adrina spun around angrily. Damin was sitting on a small campstool on the other side of the small table that held the flickering lamp looking thoroughly miserable. A glowing brazier in the corner warmed the tent, almost as much as Adrina’s anger.

“I DO NOT...” she began, then took a deep breath. “I do not screech.”

“You do,” R’shiel said. “I take it this... argument has to do with my declaration that you two should get married? So who’s the dissenting party?”

“R’shiel, perhaps it’s not such a good idea...” Damin began.

“Not a good idea! It’s downright insane!” Adrina retorted. “Hablet will have a fit when he hears about it, and the first thing the Hythrun Warlords will do is hire an assassin to have me killed.”

“You’ve both lived with the threat of assassins all your life – what difference will another make? As for Hablet, we’ll just have to convince him there’s a profit in it.”

“And what about how I feel?” Adrina asked, unable to deny the truth of R’shiel’s words. Anything that was profitable was fine by her father.

“How do you feel, then?”

“Used!” she snapped without hesitation.

“I need Hythria and Fardohnya at peace, Adrina. I can’t face Xaphista any other way.”

Adrina turned to Damin for support. “Even if this marriage stays my father’s hand for a time, the Hythrun Warlords will never accept me as their High Princess.”

“She has a point, R’shiel.”

“The High Arrion will support you – she’s your sister isn’t she? There are already Harshini in Greenharbour. With the Sorcerers’ Collective backing you and once it’s known that the demon child has sanctioned your union...”

“The demon child is still a legend in Hythria,” Damin reminded her. “The only way this will work is if you return to Hythria with us. If you want to stop a civil war and want the other Warlords to believe in the demon child, then you’re going to have to show them the demon child.”

“I can’t go to Hythria, Damin. I have to take care of something at the Citadel. Tarja will need my help when he’s recovered and I still have to figure out how I’m going to deal with the Kariens.”

“None of which you will be able to give your full attention to, until Fardohnya and Hythria are at peace,” Damin pointed out, turning her own argument back on her. “What’s the hurry, anyway? It’ll take months before Tarja and the other captains can get the Defenders under their command organised enough to mount an effective resistance. The Citadel is under the control of the Kariens and you’re not going to be able to do anything about that until you’ve destroyed Xaphista. The war in Medalon is over for now.”

“I have to return to the Citadel. You don’t understand...”

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Adrina cut in. “You want to change the whole world to suit your liking, then run off on some personal vendetta while the rest of us get killed trying to carry out your orders. Nobody wants to see the Kariens brought to their knees more than I, R’shiel, but Damin is right. If you want us to do this, then you’re going to have to do it with us. Your mission to the Citadel will have to wait.”

R’shiel glanced at the two of them and sighed. They were both such stubborn, strong-willed personalities and she needed this marriage to take place. She would have called on Kalianah to intervene, but Damin was one of Zegarnald’s favourites. The War God would know she was up to something if another god interfered with Damin.

Frustration welling in her, she was forced to concede that they were right. Sending Damin back to Hythria with Adrina as his bride without proof of the demon child’s existence would be akin to a death sentence.