Treason Keep

the Sea of Despair and back.

Chapter 25

“You are out of your bloody mind!”

R’shiel met Brak’s anger with a wall of serenity that she did not entirely feel as she dismounted beside him. It was a little bit like having her emotions suppressed by Korandellan, except this time the calm was self-imposed. She was learning.

“There is no other way, Brak.”

“You will never get away with it!” he insisted, pacing the uneven ground. The magnificent sorcerer-bred horses loaned to them by the Hythrun wandered off to graze. R’shiel could the feel the touch of their equine thoughts as they munched contentedly on the fresh grass. The air was cool and still, as if autumn were trying to decide if it should move over and let winter in, or if it should linger on the plain for a time. They had ridden south a ways onto the vast grassland, out of sight of the camp, Brak insisting he had to speak with her alone. She understood the reason for his caution as soon as he opened his mouth. He did not want the humans to hear him chastise her like an errant child. Or perhaps he was hesitant to reveal any limits to their Harshini power. It was far easier to keep up the illusion of invulnerability if others were not aware you had limitations.

“One thing! Just one little thing goes wrong and the whole ludicrous illusion will fall apart. You can’t just waltz into the Citadel with a demon meld and expect to confront the Gathering – let alone convince them that the meld is really Joyhinia!”

“It convinced everybody here,” she pointed out.

“And it lasted for a mere five minutes before it fell apart! The Gathering goes on for hours. The meld won’t hold that long.”

“Dranymire says it will. With practice.”

“Practice? Do you have any idea how long the demons need to practise? A dragon is the result of a thousand years of practice, R’shiel! Garet Warner is leaving for the Citadel the day after tomorrow and he’ll barely make it in time for the Gathering. Even if you could get there in time, you would have to convince at least some of the Quorum to support your case for re-appointing Mahina as First Sister, and that could take weeks in itself, even assuming the meld was sufficiently cohesive to do anything so complex.”

R’shiel sighed patiently. She had given this a lot more thought than Brak gave her credit for.

“I can cast a glamour over myself. Nobody will recognise me.”

“Well, that changes everything!” Brak snorted. “Now it’s just impossible, whereas before it was inconceivable! I can’t believe you talked Dranymire into this!”

At the mention of his name the demon popped into being at her feet. He looked up and frowned at Brak. “You are letting your human temper get the better of you, Lord Brakandaran.”

“I’m letting my human common sense get the better of me,” Brak snapped. It was a measure of his fury that he spoke so bluntly to the demon. Brak was usually more circumspect around them, particularly Dranymire. “How can you let her do this?”

Dranymire pulled himself up to his full height, making him nearly as tall as R’shiel’s knee, and glared at Brak. “Lord Brakandaran, there are some things more important than individuals. Karien priests gather beyond the border, even as we speak. The Harshini must be able to protect themselves, and to do that, they need access to the Citadel. Sanctuary was built as a retreat – not a defence – and it will not stand a concerted attack if the Karien priests cross the border and discover its location. The Harshini need the protection and the power of the Citadel.”

R’shiel looked down at the little demon in surprise. It had never occurred to her that the Citadel might hold power for the Harshini.

“It will do no good if I protect R’shiel from the danger of entering the Citadel, if in the long run the Harshini are destroyed. Xaphista is aware of the demon child’s existence, just as any other god would be.”

Brak took the demon at his word, it seemed, nodding reluctantly. “Then let me go in her place. Let me call on the demons bonded to my bloodline to create the meld. I’m expendable. R’shiel is not.”

“No,” R’shiel said with utter certainty, although she had no idea where it came from. “I have to do this, Brak. I need your help, but ultimately, the task is mine.”

He shook his head. “You need me? For what? To bring home your body?”

“I need you to help me convince the Quorum,” she explained.

Years of being raised on the schemes of Joyhinia had prepared her for this, more than Brak knew. She had been fed politics for breakfast, manipulation for lunch and treachery for dinner for most of her life. Brak, on the other hand, was more Harshini than he cared to admit, for all that he had killed Lorandranek.

R’shiel took a deep breath, knowing the reaction to her next suggestion was likely to be even more extreme than the idea of the demon meld. “As you said, we need to convince the Quorum, and that could take weeks. So I don’t plan to convince them. I plan to coerce them.”

Brak was aghast at the suggestion. “Coerce them?”

“We will take Joyhinia to the Gathering and when she stands to speak, there will not be a voice raised in protest. Not if we cast a coercion over the whole group.”

He took a deep, calming breath before he spoke. “R’shiel, I know you weren’t at Sanctuary long, but somebody must have mentioned the prohibition on coercing humans to act against their natures. It’s... it’s on a par with killing, as far as the Harshini are concerned.”

She looked at him evenly. “I am the demon child. I was created to destroy. Coercion seems to pale a little compared to that.”

“And when the coercion wears off?” he asked. “What then? What happens when the Sisters of the Blade wake the next morning, wondering why in the Seven Hells they voted Mahina back into power?”

“We’ll have to stay in the Citadel long enough to ensure that doesn’t happen. If anybody makes too much fuss, Mahina can send them away – post them somewhere remote where nobody will listen to them. A leader always removes the loudest opposing voices upon attaining power. It’s a time-honoured tradition. It was also the mistake Mahina made the first time she was elected. I doubt she’ll be so trusting this time.”

“And what of the real Joyhinia? What do you plan to do with her?”

“Not long after the election, Joyhinia will be struck down with a terrible fever that will leave her incapacitated,” she explained. “It will destroy her mind, unfortunately. She will be moved to the villa at Brodenvale where the sisters who are too old and infirm to look after themselves are cared for. She will live out her days in comfort and peace, as befits a retired First Sister, blissfully unaware of the events going on around her.”

Brak let out a long slow whistle. “Gods, no wonder Xaphista fears your coming. A te Ortyn Harshini who schemes like a Sister of the Blade.”

She smiled faintly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one,” he snarled, turning his back on her. He walked to his mount and patted its graceful neck. R’shiel wondered if he was sharing his disapproval with the horse.

“Brakandaran will help you,” Dranymire assured her.

“I suppose. But what did you mean when you said the Harshini needed the power of the Citadel? I thought the Citadel was just a bunch of temples?”

Dranymire shook his head. “It is more than that, child. The power is there for anyone to see, even humans.”

“What power?” There was nothing she could recall from the Citadel that reeked of Harshini power. And if there had been, she was certain the Sisterhood would have destroyed it long ago.

“You call it the Brightening and the Dimming, I believe,” the little demon explained. “It is the pulse of the Citadel.”