“Pretty much,” she agreed with a shrug.
“You leave me little choice.”
“Then your answer is yes?”
He nodded cautiously.
In two steps she was across the room. She slammed her hands down over his on the desk and glared at him. “Then swear it!”
Garet opened his mouth to say what she wanted to hear, but the words would not come. She was doing something to him, something that would not permit him to lie. With a sudden and terrifying flash of clarity, he knew that if he took this oath he would belong to her, body and soul, until he died, and perhaps even after, if one believed the pagans.
“Swear it, Garet,” she whispered. Her face was close to his, her eyes boring through him as though she could read every dark, unsavoury secret he kept hidden in the furthermost recesses of his mind. She wasn't using magic on him, her eyes had not turned black, but whatever it was, he found her impossible to deny.
“I'm yours, R'shiel.”
She studied him for a moment and then stood back. As soon as she released him, Garet slumped back in his chair, light-headed. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that when he opened them again, the room would have stopped spinning.
“Sorry, Garet, but I had to be sure.”
He looked up at her, wondering what he had done. It took a moment for him to recover enough to speak.
“So, now what?”
“First, we have to stop the Kariens from hanging Tarja,” Brak remarked, as if it was no more trouble than squashing a flea.
“You know they're blaming him for killing Cratyn, don't you?”
“Well, they can hardly admit the demon child did it. When is his trial?”
“Trial? What trial? The Kariens aren't big on the natural course of justice, Brak. Tarja's scheduled to be hanged next Restday. In the amphitheatre so everyone can come and watch.”
“Then we have to put a stop to it,” R'shiel declared. “Where's Jenga? Have they killed him too?”
“Not yet. Actually, they haven't interfered too much with the Defenders. Most of their people don't speak a word of Medalonian so they need us. There'd be a mutiny if they tried to kill the Lord Defender and they know it. He's under arrest. They're holding him in the cells behind the Headquarters Building, and it's the Kariens who are guarding him, not our people.”
“Then we have to release him, too.”
“How? Your last attempt at breaking somebody out of the Citadel was spectacularly unsuccessful, as I recall.”
R'shiel frowned at the reminder. “I intend to plan this a little better. If we're going to do something about the Kariens, the first thing we have to do is get rid of Joyhinia, and replace her with a First Sister who is on Medalon's side, rather than her own, then...”
“Who are you planning to put in power? Mahina's dead.”
“I know. I saw the head over the gate.”
“Whose idea was that?” Brak asked.
“The First Sister's.”
“Somehow that doesn't surprise me.” R'shiel's eyes hardened as she spoke, something he did not think was possible. Then she shook off whatever it was that caused such hatred to flare in her and shrugged. “I was thinking of Harith.”
Garet shrugged. Harith was not popular. But she was, of all the Quorum members, perhaps the one who cared most about Medalon.
“Assuming you manage that, then what?”
“I need to find the Harshini archives. And I'm going to kill Loclon.”
“Loclon? What's he got to do with this? Besides, he's listed as a deserter. Nobody has seen him since the night of the last Gathering.”
R'shiel pulled the wooden chair on the other side of the desk across the rug and sat down facing him. “Joyhinia didn't recover, Garet. The Karien priests simply borrowed another mind and put it in her body. That's not Joyhinia issuing the Kariens orders. It's Loclon.”
The whole idea was too bizarre for Garet to take in. “That's absurd... it's not possible...”
“Of course it's possible,” Brak said. “You're dealing with powers you refuse to acknowledge, Commandant, but that doesn't make them any less real. Or powerful.”
“Perhaps she simply recovered...”
“Tarja destroyed her wit. There is no way Joyhinia could have returned.”
“But Loclon? How did he... ?”
“It doesn't matter,” R'shiel insisted. “All that matters is that we do something about it, about everything - Loclon, the Kariens, all of it. I can't do anything about finding the answers I need until they've been taken care of.”
“Did you ride in here with your eyes shut, R'shiel?”
“I never said I thought it was going to be easy, Garet,” she said. “But it is necessary.”
The commandant nodded slowly. “Very well. But if you want me to cooperate, then I ask... no I demand... two things.”
“You're not in a position to demand anything, Garet.”
“Nevertheless, I will demand them. If you don't wish to heed me, then I'll just throw myself on my sword now, and save the Kariens the trouble of hanging me.”
R'shiel obviously meant to object, but Brak cut in before she could say anything. “What do you want, Commandant?”
“First, I want your promise that you will listen to me. I haven't been sitting here idly while the Kariens overrun Medalon. I have the men we need in the places we need them and the authority to mobilise them. But if we're to do this successfully, then timing is critical. I don't want anyone - specifically you, R'shiel - going off on a tangent because of some noble pagan purpose I don't give a damn about and ruining it for the rest of us. I don't care about your destiny, the Harshini or the rebels. I don't even want to know what you're looking for in the archives. Is that clear?”
“I think that's fair. And the second thing?” Brak asked before R'shiel could get a word in.
“I want to disband the Sisterhood.”
They both stared at him.
“Disband the Sisterhood? Why?”
“I'm surprised you of all people have to ask, R'shiel. It's a corrupt and destructive form of government. They may have started out with the right intentions, but what drives them now is nothing more than the quest for personal power. The Sisters of the Blade that led us into this mess. When we take the Citadel, we take the power out of the hands of the Sisterhood and place it with the Defenders.”
“So you want to replace one form of oppressive rule with another?” Brak asked wryly.
“No. Eventually, we'll hold elections. The people of Medalon should be allowed to vote for who they want to lead them, not leave the choice to a handful of women who are trained from childhood to believe they are better than everybody else. We'll put Jenga in charge until we've cleared out the Kariens and we can organise a vote. He has enough honour to see that it's done properly.”
R'shiel gazed at him suspiciously. “How long have you been planning this, Garet?”
“The destruction of the Sisterhood? Since the day I learnt of the burning of a small village in the Sanctuary Mountains called Haven,” he told her.
For a moment she said nothing.
“You come from Haven.” It was more a statement of fact than a question; a sudden acceptance of his motives, an understanding of what drove him. He felt as if, on some unconscious level, she had forgiven him.
“Your real family was killed in that raid, R'shiel. So were mine.”
“I never knew you were Mountain Folk.”
