grasp. At almost the same instant, Dranymire lost control of the meld.
Screams filled the Hall as Joyhinia fell apart, leaving nothing but a writhing mass of wrinkled grey gnomes who blinked out of existence as soon as they realised they were exposed. All except one. The little demon who had attached herself to R’shiel in Sanctuary who sought warmth in her bed cowered behind the lectern on the podium, unseen by the humans surrounding her, trembling with fear.
R’shiel did not see the demon. She had no idea what was happening. She collapsed against the balustrade and brought up everything she had eaten for the past week. Her eyes watered so hard she could not see, could not find the source of the pounding feet on the narrow stairs that led to the gallery. She wiped her mouth and glanced up, barely had time to notice the tonsured man standing over her as a jewelled staff landed on her shoulder, tearing a scream of unbearable agony from her.
She quivered on the gallery floor as rough hands held her down and something cold and hard was snapped around her neck. As soon as the clasp snicked shut, R’shiel felt the last remnants of the Harshini power vanish, as if a door had been slammed shut on it.
Dazed and barely able to walk, she was dragged to her feet, pushed down the winding stairs, then half pulled, half carried to the front of the Hall. The men holding her threw her to the floor. Simply letting her go would have had the same effect. Her head cracked against the bottom step, but she barely noticed the pain or the blood that spurted from her forehead. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and wiped her eyes.
More screams filled the hall as the little demon spied R’shiel and flew at her, chitterring in terror. She wrapped her arms around R’shiel’s neck. As soon as the demon came in contact with the collar, she squealed with pain and fell to the floor, quivering, temporarily robbed of every vestige of power, too stunned to disappear and save herself. R’shiel tried to catch the creature but she was pushed away roughly. One of the priests pinned the demon to the floor with his staff.
R’shiel cried out in protest as the little demon squealed in agony. Someone knocked her down. By the time she had pushed herself up again, the demon was being hurried from the hall by two of the Karien priests. She looked up then and caught sight of the First Sister.
Joyhinia looked down at her. The real Joyhinia. Savage intelligence burned in eyes that should have been filled with childish innocence. She smiled with malicious glee, then held her arms wide to address the Gathering.
“What has happened here is sorcery, my Sisters! Only with the help of Lord Terbolt and the Karien priests have I been able to expose this treachery. I have not resigned. I do not surrender my position to any woman.” She spared Mahina a glance, then turned to Garet Warner. “Arrest the usurper!”
Garet did not even hesitate. Mahina was being led away before she could protest – before anyone could protest. The Commandant had changed sides without a whimper. Angrily, R’shiel forced herself to concentrate and reach for her power, but all she got in return for her trouble was a vicious burning sensation around her neck that wrenched an agonised cry from her lips.
Joyhinia glanced down at R’shiel. She was gloating. Her eyes were filled with vengeance waiting to be sated. The aura that surrounded her was black streaked and tantalisingly familiar. She held her arms wide again and addressed the Gathering.
“Behold, Sisters! Let me present the author of this treasonous plot. I give you the reason for the Purge. I give you the result of relaxing our vigilance. I give you a Harshini sorcerer! I give you the fabled demon child!”
Chapter 47
Consciousness returned slowly. It crept up on her like a thief in the night, so slowly that it took time for her to realise she was awake. It took even longer for her to realise where she was.
R’shiel lay on the floor, her head throbbing from the shallow cut she received when she had hit the marble steps leading to the dais. Cold morning light from the highset windows chequered the expensive rug where she lay. Her neck ached as if it had been burned; the icy collar that circled her throat a grim reminder of the foolishness of trying to reach for her power. Her mouth tasted like the floor of a pigsty. Her hands were tied behind her back, the ropes so tight that her fingers were numb. She was in a bedchamber, rather than a cell, but she could not recall how she got there. Her last clear memory was Joyhinia staring at her with savage, lucid eyes as she destroyed everything R’shiel had been working toward.
“You’re awake, I see.”
R’shiel turned her head in the direction of the voice. The man who spoke was a Karien.
“Can I have some water?” she croaked.
The Karien nodded and R’shiel felt other hands pulling her up into a sitting position. A cool tankard touched her lips and she swallowed the water gratefully. The man who held her head was Karien too, with the tonsured head and fanatical expression of a priest. Fear stabbed at her like a knife. She had been the victim of a Karien priest before. It was not an experience she wished to repeat.
“You failed in your attempt to subvert the Sisterhood. You realise that, don’t you?”
“Who are you?”
“I am Lord Terbolt, the Duke of Setenton, Personal Envoy of King Jasnoff III and the anointed representative of Xaphista the Overlord.”
“Is that supposed to impress me?” she said, pushing away the tankard. Too late now to wonder if it had been drugged.
The Karien frowned. “You would do well to show some respect, demon child. I can have you put to death with a word.”
R’shiel stared at him, trying to gather her wits. She ignored the pain with an effort. Now was not the time to give into something so distracting. “I’d be dead already if you were planning to kill me.”
Lord Setenton nodded slowly, as if reluctant to admit the truth of her statement. “You live because the Overlord wishes it, demon child. He is liable to change his mind quite rapidly, should you fail to do as you are told.”
“Then kill me now,” she suggested. “I’d rather die than do anything Xaphista demanded of me.”
The Karien frowned at her blasphemy. The priest actually gasped.
“No, Garanus!” Terbolt ordered. He was standing behind her, so R’shiel could not see what the priest intended.
“She blasphemes, my Lord!”
“She doesn’t know any better.”
“But, my Lord...”
“No Garanus, his Majesty was quite specific. She is not to be harmed. The Overlord has plans for the demon child.”
R’shiel struggled to sit up and glared at the Karien. “Look, I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m the demon child, but you’re gloating over the wrong catch. The Harshini are extinct. I am human.”
“You are a liar,” Garanus countered.
“Let her be, Garanus. Her denials are meaningless. Go find Gawn and see if there is any word on the half- breed.”
So they hadn’t caught Brak. The news gave her hope. The priest followed the Duke’s orders with some reluctance, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Lord Terbolt rose from his chair and crossed the room. He untied the ropes holding her then helped her to her feet. R’shiel winced as the blood returned to her numb fingers.
“Thank you.”
“I am not a vicious man, R’shiel. I have no wish to see you harmed. I have orders to deliver you to King Jasnoff in one piece. I would appreciate it if you gave Garanus and his ilk no reason to harm you.”
“You mean, if I cooperate, I’ll be safe until you hand me over to Xaphista so he can kill me himself? What a tempting offer.”
