“Let it go, R'shiel,” he said softly. “There's no need for it.”
Reluctantly, she did as he bid. He smiled at her. “Good girl.”
“Don't treat me like a child, Brak.”
“Then don't behave like one.”
She glared at him for a moment, then nodded. “It's all right. I'll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “Yes. I'm sure.”
He waited until he was satisfied that she had her emotions - and more importantly, her power - under control, then stepped back. Tarja was talking to Garet Warner. He seemed determined not to look at her. Garet turned as they approached, his expression concerned for the first time since they had begun this coup.
“What's wrong?” Brak asked.
“As the captain said,
“And what about Loclon?” R'shiel demanded. “Did they find him?”
“I told you days ago that no one has seen him since the last Gathering. He's a deserter. He's probably halfway to Fardohnya by now.”
“No! You don't understand!” She turned to Brak desperately. Only he could fully appreciate what she feared.
“We have to find him,” Brak agreed.
“I've got a lot more to worry about than one miserable deserter, R'shiel. This,” he pointed out with a wave of his arm that encompassed the chaotic street before them, “is just the beginning.”
“Then I'll find him on my own!”
“I can't allow that.”
“I don't recall asking your permission.”
“Let her go, Garet,” Tarja said. His voice was dull, as if the life had gone out of him. “She needs to do this and there's nothing at present that requires her help.”
“Very well, go look for Loclon, if you must. We've more important things to take care of. If you tire of such a fruitless task and you wish to join us later, we'll be in the First Sister's office.”
Garet turned away in annoyance. Tarja followed him without looking back. R'shiel wasn't sure if he'd spoken up because he supported her, or was simply trying to be rid of her.
At that moment, she didn't care. Joyhinia was dead, which meant Loclon was free to return to his own body. Somewhere in the Citadel, he was on the loose. She was determined that he would not escape her this time. Not if she had to tear the Citadel apart stone by stone to find him.
CHAPTER 42
Tarja leaned his head tiredly against the cool pane of glass on the long windows of the First Sister's office. They would have to think of another name for it soon, he thought idly. The position of First Sister no longer existed.
The Citadel was quiet. A light rain blurred the view and trickled down the small panes of glass, distorting the world outside. He could see nothing in the darkness but squares of yellow light from the windows of the library building across the street. There were Defenders on guard there tonight to prevent the Sisters of the Blade gaining entrance and destroying documents they did not want to fall into the hands of the Defenders.
Harith had already been to see them, demanding that Garet hand over the Citadel, now that the Defenders had control. She had been shocked beyond words when he refused. It had been a fairly ugly confrontation, and although they had won this round, Tarja knew the Sisters of the Blade would not fade into oblivion quietly. In a way, they were liable to be more trouble than the Kariens.
He heard the door open but did not turn to see who entered. Garet could deal with them. The commandant was good at that sort of thing.
“We've moved all the Kariens we rounded up into the amphitheatre, sir,” the officer reported.
It was Symin, the young captain who had rescued him - when? Only this morning?
“I've assigned enough men to see they don't escape, but we're pretty thin on the ground elsewhere because of it. The priests have been separated from the others. We're holding them in the caverns.”
“What did you do with their staves?”
“We piled them up in one of the caverns. I posted a guard on them. They look pretty valuable.”
“A priest doesn't like being separated from his staff,” Tarja remarked, still staring thoughtfully out of the dark windows.
“That's true enough,” Symin agreed. “They made quite a fuss when we confiscated them. But the rest of the Kariens are docile enough. I think the weather has dampened their spirits somewhat. I told them they'll be released in the morning if they want to go home.”
“Who's in command there now?”
“Captain Grannon.”
“Then go and get some sleep, Captain. You've earnt it.”
“Thank you, sir. Goodnight. Goodnight, Tarja.”
“Goodnight Symin,” he said.
The captain saluted without meeting Tarja's eye and left the office. Tarja watched him go with a frown.
“He doesn't know whether to worship you or run like hell,” Garet remarked.
“I'm glad you think it's funny.”
The commandant leaned back in the First Sister's chair and stretched wearily. “Stop feeling so bloody remorseful, Tarja. Gawn deserved to die. I'd have done the same thing in your place. No... actually, that's not true. I'd have tortured the miserable little bastard for a month or two before I killed him. That's the difference between you and me. You prefer pure, uncomplicated justice. I'm more of 'the end justifies the means' ilk. And I'm very patient. I can wait a very long time before I get my vengeance.”
“Time is one thing we don't have,” Tarja reminded him. “The Kariens outside will attack as soon as they realise what's happened, and then we're going to be facing an even bigger problem.”
“That's where your Harshini friends come in,” Garet mused. “I hope R'shiel remembered to get a message to Hythria before she went chasing off on her damned fool quest to find Loclon.”
There was no point trying to explain to Garet why R'shiel thought finding Loclon was so important, so Tarja let the matter drop. He moved away from the window and took one of the deep leather chairs on the other side of the desk, stretching his feet out. He rubbed eyes that were gritty with exhaustion and looked at Garet questioningly.
“So, what happens now? With Jenga gone, we've no one to take command - unless you fancy the job.”
The commandant shook his head. “Not me. I have neither the ability nor the presence to hold Medalon together. We need someone the people know. I've made a career of keeping a low profile. If you issued a decree in my name, the entire population would stare at you blankly and say 'Garet
“Then who else is there?”
“There's you.”
“That is not even remotely amusing, Garet.”
“I wasn't joking.”
“Nobody would follow me, even if I wanted the job, which I don't.”
“You underestimate yourself, my friend. You are the most notorious Defender that has ever lived and your reputation is that of a fearless —”
“Don't be absurd!”
“Hear me out, Tarja. You deserted the Defenders because you refused to serve under Joyhinia, and she turned out to be the most savage, uncompromising bitch that ever put on the First Sister's mantle. You publicly
