Brak forced his attention back to the present to discover the rain had eased to a light drizzle. “Thank you, Divine One,” he said under his breath, although it was unlikely that Bhren was listening.
“We should get moving,” R’shiel advised, glancing warily at the guards. Brak nodded and followed her into the street, still holding the glamour tightly around them.
It was nearly two hundred years since Brak had been in the Citadel, and the changes wrought in that time depressed him. Once this had been his home, before the Sisterhood had snatched it from the Harshini. As a child, he had played with demons among the vast gardens that were now replaced by cluttered housing. He had gone exploring in the ancient woods surrounding the Citadel that had long been cleared to meet the voracious human appetite for firewood and lumber. Humans had obliterated all the beauty of the Citadel, all the elegant hallmarks of Harshini architecture. Only the temples and the Halls of Residence remained of the original city, but they too had been corrupted, their artwork painted over, their graceful lines distorted by later additions to their structures. Brak was glad the Harshini could not see the Citadel now. It would bruise their souls to see what had been done to their home.
“I can feel it,” R’shiel breathed in wonder. “I can feel the Citadel.”
“He’s reacting to your presence.”
She frowned, trying to reach out with senses not yet mature enough to identify what she was experiencing. The Citadel was welcoming her home, just as it had watched over her for most of her life. Until now, she had not been aware of the power that enabled her to feel his presence.
“I thought only gods could tell what I am?”
“The spirit of the Citadel is a god,” Brak explained. “An Incidental god, not a Primal god, but a god nonetheless.”
“You mean he’s like Xaphista? He’s a demon that grew powerful enough to call himself a god?”
“No, the Citadel is unique. He came into being as the complex was built. He is the essence of the place. Its soul if you like.”
R’shiel digested the information silently as they approached the Temple of the Gods. Brak did not know what the humans called it now, but once it had been the centre of Harshini life – the place where any god, no matter how powerful or insignificant, could be called into being. He had played with gods and demons in that Temple, back in a time when life held a great deal of promise. Back in the days before he understood what it was to be half-human. Back in the days before he had killed Lorandranek.
“What did Dranymire mean about the Harshini needing access to the Citadel to protect themselves?”
“You can’t kill a Harshini here, R’shiel. The Citadel won’t permit it.”
She looked at him, her violet eyes wide with astonishment. “You’re kidding?”
“No. But don’t get too exited. That protection doesn’t extend to half-bloods. You and I are just as mortal as anybody else, here.”
“So if the Harshini could come back to the Citadel, they would be safe from the Kariens? Even if they cross the border?”
“It’s the only protection they have, other than remaining hidden. Their inability to kill is painfully real, R’shiel. There’s a story I heard once about the First Purge. A mob of humans attacked a Harshini family trying to flee the carnage. They raped the women, butchered the children and then handed the last Harshini standing a sword. They knelt in front of him and offered him their exposed throats, taunting him to kill them. He dropped the sword and threw himself on the ground, hoping they would take his life too. He couldn’t ask them to do it, the prohibition against violence includes suicide.” He did not realise how cold his voice had become until R’shiel looked at him with genuine concern.
“It’s not just a story, is it, Brak?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“What happened?”
“We arrived too late to save him. But the humans who attacked them never lived long enough to gloat about their deeds.”
“You
“There were a lot more half-bloods in those days. Before the Sisterhood, mixed marriages were not that uncommon. We were young and hot-headed and didn’t take the Purge lying down.”
R’shiel thought about that for a moment. “Where are the other half-bloods now?”
“One half-blood was more dangerous to the Sisterhood than a dozen pure Harshini. They made a special effort to eradicate us.” They had ridden past the Hall of the Gods without stopping. Brak was very sorry he had ever mentioned the First Purge. Although centuries old, the memories still burned like acid.
“You’re the only one left.”
“Until you came along.”
R’shiel did not ask anything further on the subject, for which Brak was grateful. He glanced at the low, grey sky and realised that R’shiel had been correct in her assertion that rain would force the Gathering indoors and that the Hall was the only other possible venue.
She was still insisting they coerce the Gathering into accepting Joyhinia, but Brak had held off showing her how to do it, until the last possible moment, hoping she would change her mind. He lacked the power himself, to coerce a large group of people, but he knew the technique, although working it left him sick to his stomach. Since her stay at Sanctuary, under the careful guidance of Korandellan and her Harshini tutors, R’shiel had learnt much about her ability. But she was still a babe-in-arms by Harshini standards. A babe who was acquiring knowledge she lacked the judgment to use wisely, at a frightening rate. So frightening that Brak found himself being very careful about what he did in her presence.
She had come a long way since Shananara had tried to teach her simply how to touch her power. That day by the Glass River, more than a year ago, seemed to be part of a much more distant past.
If the Citadel’s desecration had cut him to the core, then Tavern Street was like rubbing salt into the wound. The whole cluttered street, which had once been a wide, tree-lined avenue, wore an aura of shoddy greed. With the rain, the feast in the Amphitheatre had been washed out and the tables laden with food had been moved to the verandahs outside the taverns. The street was packed with people venturing out into the fading drizzle to avail themselves of the Sisterhood’s generosity. Red coats mingled with grey-robed Probates, green-robed Novices and the more varied colours worn by ordinary people. There were only a few blue Sisters in sight. Most of them had chosen to stay indoors, rather than fight the crush in the rain. Of the white-robed Sisters of the Quorum, there was no sign at all.
“Isn’t there somewhere else we can go?” Brak asked, eyeing the crowd uneasily. They had planned to take rooms in a tavern close to the Hall of the Gods and stay out of sight until the Gathering at sundown.
“But we were supposed to meet Affiana here.”
“She’ll wait for us.”
R’shiel thought for a moment then nodded. “The Amphitheatre will be deserted with the food moved down here. The caverns should be quiet enough.”
R’shiel turned her horse and led the way, although Brak could have found his way blindfolded. The caverns had been stables once, built to house the ancestors of the Hythrun sorcerer-bred horses. They rode into the torch-lit tunnel and dismounted, leading their horses deep into the caverns where they were unlikely to be disturbed. Brak looked around the empty, hollow rooms with a sharp sense of loss.
He shook off the feeling and turned to R’shiel. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“There’s no other way, Brak.” The darkness hid her expression, but it could not hide her excitement. Since returning to the world of humans, the differences between the demon child and mere mortals were more evident each day. Those differences were beginning to make her feel a little too superior for Brak’s comfort. He could remember feeling the same way, when he was her age, and he discovered how much his power set him apart. But that kind of arrogance was dangerous to R’shiel and everyone around her. She needed to be brought down a peg or two, as he had been, and soon.
“What you want to do is wrong, you understand that, don’t you?”
“It is necessary.”
“Are you prepared for the consequences?”
“What consequences?” For the first time, she didn’t sound quite so certain.
“Coercing humans is easy, R’shiel,” he explained. “People do it to each other all the time. They don’t use the
