Harshini

Mathen, they call him. Word has it he's the one issuing the laws. The First Sister is just a puppet.”

“More than you know,” Tarja murmured, thinking of what Brak had told him about the spell cast by the Karien priests and whose mind now occupied Joyhinia's body. “What sort of laws is he issuing?”

“He's started a program to 'redeem' the court'esa and made it an offence for any man or woman with children to spend their wages in the 'houses of exploitation' as he calls 'em.”

“He's outlawed the court'esa?” Denjon asked in surprise. “The Sisterhood legalised them two centuries ago.”

“Not outlawed 'em exactly. The First Sister now reckons there are too many children going hungry 'cause their parents spend all their money on 'pleasures of the flesh', rather than food for their kin. The law was passed with barely a murmur of protest.”

“Why issue a law like that?” Linst asked.

“It's the first step to outlawing prostitution completely,” Tarja said. “In Karien it's an offence punishable by stoning. Our people wouldn't accept the Church of Xaphista being imposed on them, but if they make new laws that sound reasonable enough, before you know it, they'll be building churches in every damned village in Medalon.”

“Aye, you're right, Cap'n. All the laws seem good on the surface, but they're only a step away from worshippin' the Overlord.”

“That's the danger of them,” Tarja agreed. “Is there any other news?”

Seth nodded grimly. “They're gonna hang Sister Mahina.”

“When?” Tarja asked.

“Restday next, I think.”

“Then we still have time to rescue her!” Denjon declared.

“Don't be an idiot,” Linst said. “That's exactly what they'll be expecting. Even if you could get to the Citadel in time, which is unlikely, Garet Warner will have the city locked up so tight, you won't be able to sneak a table knife through the main gate, let alone a squad of armed men.”

“Tarja? What do you think? Mahina was a friend of yours, as well as the only decent First Sister we've had in a century.”

Tarja did not answer for a moment. “Linst is right, Denjon. We'd be walking into a trap.”

“So you're just going to let them hang her?”

“We have two thousand men here that we need to disperse and the Karien army moving through Medalon. Mahina knew the risk she was taking when she returned to the Citadel, and she'd be the first to tell us not to throw everything away trying to be heroic. I'm sorry, Denjon. Nobody wants to save her more than I do, but we simply can't risk it.”

Denjon shook his head, but he could not deny Tarja's cold practicality.

“Then we shall have to settle for avenging her death instead.”

“And avenge it we will,” Tarja promised. “Every damned day until the Kariens are gone from Medalon.”

* * *

Tarja looked down at the map, rubbing his eyes, which felt as if they'd had handfuls of sand thrown in them. Denjon and Linst were gone and he was alone in the smoky cellar, going over the plans they had made, looking for faults and finding none. It was a useless exercise, but it was better than trying to sleep.

“Tarja?”

He looked up as Mandah entered the cellar carrying a tray. She hadn't changed much in the year since he'd last seen her. She was still as calm as her brother Ghari was fierce, still as thoughtful, and still as infuriatingly devout in her belief that the gods would take care of everything. Her fair hair was tied back in a loose braid and she was wearing an apron over her homespun trousers. She had been waiting for them, here in Roan Vale, and had appointed herself housekeeper to the senior officers and none of them had objected. Mandah was the sort of woman who could make herself indispensable with remarkable ease. Denjon was quite taken with her.

“You didn't eat at dinner, so I brought you something.”

“Thanks. Just put it there on the table. I'll eat it later.”

She put down the tray but made no move to leave. Tarja looked up at her. “Was there something else?”

“I thought you might like to talk.”

“Some other time, Mandah. I'm busy.”

“You're always busy. You don't eat. You don't sleep. What's wrong?”

He laughed humourlessly. “What's wrong? Have you looked outside lately?”

“That's not what's bothering you, Tarja. You could organise those men out there in your sleep. If you ever did sleep, that is. Is it Mahina?”

He had forgotten she was there when they spoke with Seth. “That's a part of it.”

“And what about the rest of it?”

“I don't want to talk about it, Mandah.”

“You'll have to get it off your chest sooner or later, Tarja. It's eating you up.” She hesitated for a moment and then added in a small voice, “Is it R'shiel?”

He looked up sharply. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you haven't mentioned her once.”

“Is that such a surprise? I've had quite a bit to do lately, in case you hadn't noticed. Besides, what do you care? You never liked her, anyway.” He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but she had cut too close to the truth for comfort.

“It doesn't matter if I like her, Tarja. She is the demon child.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

Mandah walked around the table to stand beside him. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he said bluntly, shaking off her arm.

“You'll have to eventually, Tarja.” Her eyes were full of pain at his rejection. “You can't keep on like this. You're on the brink of exhaustion. How much use will you be to any of us if you can't think straight?”

He pushed aside his annoyance and made an effort to be civil. His mood was hardly Mandah's fault. “Look, I appreciate your concern, Mandah, but there is really nothing to tell. Thanks for the food, and I promise I'll eat it later.”

He smiled at her, hoping it didn't look nearly as false as it felt, and turned back to the map. Mandah did not move. Tarja studied the terrain with great concentration, wondering what it would take to get her to leave.

“Ghari told me you and R'shiel were lovers,” she said after a long moment of strained silence.

Tarja slammed his palms down onto the table so hard, the tray jumped. Mandah leaned away from him, her eyes suddenly fearful.

“Ghari had no reason to lie, Tarja.”

“Damn it, Mandah, it's none of your business!”

“Is that what's bothering you?”

He took a deep, calming breath before he turned to her. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Tarja looked at her for a moment then shrugged. She was not going to be put off easily. “How much did he tell you?”

“Enough.”

“Then I don't need to explain anything.”

“Tarja, if you really love her...”

“Ah, now that's the problem, you see. I remember loving R'shiel as if there were no other woman in the world. But it's like the memories belong to someone else. I don't feel like that now, and I can't ever imagine feeling like that, yet I can remember it, clear as day.”

“Can you remember when you first felt that you loved her?”

“Almost to the instant,” he told her. “It happened at the vineyard near Testra. One moment I wanted to strangle her, the next moment I was kissing her.”