Treason Keep

“Control yourself, Brakandaran. Such undisciplined behaviour ill becomes a member of your race.”

“I’m half human, Zegarnald. I’m doing my human ancestors proud.”

“Stop fighting me. You will harm no one but yourself.”

“Then let me out of here.”

“In time.”

Brak cursed and let go of the power. Fighting a god was a fruitless effort. Fighting Zegarnald was a complete waste of time. He thrived on it. Brak’s efforts were only making him stronger. The realisation brought another thought to mind and he decided to change his tactics. If he couldn’t force Zegarnald into releasing him, then he had to make him want to do it.

“Medalon has surrendered.”

“So it would seem,” the god agreed, a little wary at Brak’s sudden change of heart.

“You’re taking it pretty well.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war is over. That’s going to seriously affect your standing among the other gods, isn’t it? I mean, now that the Kariens and the Medalonians aren’t fighting any more, things are going to get very cosy. Before long they’ll be shaking hands, then they’ll start making friends. Before long they’ll be falling in love... Kalianah’s going to be very happy. And considerably stronger, unless I’m mistaken.”

Zegarnald frowned. “The Defenders will not surrender.”

“You think so? You haven’t been keeping up to date, Divine One. The Defenders are the most disciplined army in the world. If they were ordered to dress up like chickens and run around clucking, they’d do it without blinking. They won’t ignore an order to surrender.”

“Then I will have to content myself with the Fardohnyan invasion of Hythria,” the War God told him smugly.

Brak bit back another curse. He hadn’t known about that. Zegarnald needed wars to keep him strong, but he didn’t really care where they happened. A conflict between those who worshipped him would serve him just as well as one between those who didn’t.

“I suppose you’re right. Of course, you’re assuming that Kalianah won’t interfere.”

“There is nothing she can do to prevent a war.”

“Don’t be so sure. All she has to do is make the right people fall in love and your war is done for.” Brak wondered if Zegarnald knew how desperate he was. He was certain he sounded desperate.

“If you know something of her plans, then you should tell me, Brakandaran.”

He shrugged. “I merely speculate, Divine One. If Kalianah’s got something up her sleeve, you’ll have to ask her about it.”

Zegarnald’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. Trust was not a commodity the gods owned in any great quantity and they tended to take things rather literally. They were jealous creatures and were more conscious of rank than the most snobbish Karien nobleman. It dawned on Brak then that Zegarnald was afraid of R’shiel. He was afraid of what they had created. That’s why he was determined to prove that she could be trusted, before her ability developed beyond the point where the gods could take action.

Brak looked at R’shiel with new respect. It took a lot to frighten a god.

The knowledge did little to help him out of his current predicament, however. Perhaps divine jealousy would work where reason had failed. Brak had no idea if Kalianah even cared that there was a war going on. For all he knew, she was off making a hive of bees happy, somewhere. But he was certain she would not approve of Zegarnald’s plans to test the demon child’s fortitude by throwing her to Xaphista’s priests. If he could taunt Zegarnald into seeking her out, he might be able to prevail upon the Goddess of Love to release him. Kalianah was a happy-ever-after sort of god. She didn’t like her plans being disrupted and she had gone to a fair bit of trouble to keep R’shiel and Tarja together. He was clutching at straws, but at this point anything was worth a try.

“Of course, if Kalianah was up to something while you’re at the Citadel making certain the demon child has a spine, you’re not going to know about it until she’s standing over you, smiling that annoying little smile, asking you if you love her.”

“Kalianah would not dare interfere. She knows what is at stake.”

“She made R’shiel and Tarja fall in love. That’s interference where I come from. If Kalianah gets the better of you, R’shiel won’t be tempered, she’ll be mooning about like a lovesick cow.”

One of the advantages of trying to manipulate a god was their total inability to comprehend anything other than their own natures. Zegarnald knew what love was in a theoretical sort of way, he even tolerated it, but he didn’t understand it. Brak’s prediction sounded quite plausible to him.

“I will put a stop to her interference at once!”

“You do that, Divine One. In the meantime, let me out of here and I’ll make certain R’shiel doesn’t fall for Xaphista’s devious —”

“Don’t push me, Brakandaran. You will stay here until I have dealt with Kalianah. And don’t bother to call any of my brothers or sisters. They will not hear you unless I will it.”

The War God vanished, leaving Brak alone in the half-world between reality and dreams. He looked down on R’shiel and found her sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up and her head resting on them, her whole posture radiating abject misery. He tried reaching out to her again, but he knew it was useless. Until Zegarnald released him there was nothing he could do to help her.

The demon child was on her own.

Chapter 51

Loclon stood before the full-length mirror in the First Sister’s apartments and studied Joyhinia’s naked body curiously. It was a pity she was so old, he mused, although he supposed the body was quite well preserved for a woman approaching late middle age. The once full breasts sagged disappointingly. The hips and thighs were thickened by age, and her skin was showing signs of decay.

There was little joy to be had from this body in any case. Pleasures that normally had him stiff with anticipation seemed like far-away memories. He recalled the desire but did not really feel it. The woman’s body he inhabited seemed to dampen his maleness. It was as if such thoughts could not thrive in this female form.

But if sexual pleasure was denied him, there were other compensations. The power he wielded as First Sister left him breathless. Of course, there was a limit to what he could achieve at the moment. Lord Terbolt and his priests hovered around him like vultures over a fresh corpse, but that would end soon. He would toe the line for now, but once the Kariens left the Citadel, he would be in control. Loclon smiled coldly. If they thought the old Joyhinia had been a tyrant, the citizens of Medalon would lack the words to describe the new one.

He had a long list of victims who would suffer at the First Sister’s hands once he had a free rein. Men who had slighted him; women who had scorned him; all of them would pay.

He would start with Tarja Tenragan.

Fortunately, this coincided with the Kariens’plans and the order would be issued today, under the First Sister’s seal. A courier would take it to Lord Jenga in the north as soon as the ink was dry. It would demand that Tarja Tenragan be arrested immediately and handed over to the Kariens to stand trial for the murders of Lord Pieter and the priest Elfron. Loclon would have preferred to take a more personal hand in Tarja’s demise, but the Kariens were planning to burn him alive. It was a very satisfying thought; his pleasure diminished only slightly by being unable to witness the event.

There were others too, who would feel his wrath, but they could wait. With Tarja accounted for, he must take care of R’shiel. Unfortunately, his chance at her had a deadline.

When Terbolt left the Citadel, R’shiel would go with him, willingly or not. He felt betrayed by the Kariens’plans for R’shiel. They had promised him revenge and then denied him. R’shiel was a prisoner, granted, but she was hardly suffering. She was fed regularly and well, and treated with cautious respect by Terbolt and his