he holds me in high esteem, sir, but when it comes down to it I’m an outsider, and on Car’a’vil they prefer clansfolk. Captain Paril has come on well. He should be given preference.”
“Have you discussed this with Carral?”
“Not yet. I wanted to find out first whether I could serve elsewhere.”
“Essentially you’re requesting a transfer,” said Neveth bluntly.
“Essentially, yes.”
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you, but I don’t know of anything going at the moment that would make best use of your talents. Have you any space training?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He felt a clear dart of excitement go through him.
“Selier of Ari has just been assigned to crew three new ships. I’m not sure whether she intends to recruit experienced spacefarers or cross train. I do know that she feels there’s a shortage of spacetrained swordbearers at the right command level, so she might be planning to train up officers. If you would be interested, I could find out.”
“I would be extremely interested, sir.”
“You’ve got command of an entire army on Car’a’vil, even though it’s a small one. Do you really want that kind of sideways move, end up as one of three other commanders stuck on board a ship for months at a time?”
“I’ve always felt called to serve amongst the stars, sir.”
“Have you? I’ve hardly ever been off Antra myself. Very well, Jhaval, I’ll see what I can do.”
It was only when he terminated the connection and turned to gaze out the window – which gave a view over the sweep of heath beyond the north walls of the castle – that he realised how desperately, in fact, he wanted to escape. To go amongst the stars was indeed a yearning of his soul; partly, perhaps, because so few people of any caste ever did leave their own world and it amused him to think that the youngest son of a blacksmith should be commander on a starship, and partly because he had an idea that extremes of physical distance would take him far away from the danger of discovery that haunted him.
But he could find danger, of course, anywhere he happened to be.
All through the long dark months of winter, he had taken his chance with Dazil wherever and whenever he could. Though the risks were never completely reckless, he had got bolder and more careless as time went on and it became clear to him that Carral’s intimate interest in Dazil was close to non-existent. They had been married for nine years, she told him, and it had been a long time since he had touched her anything other than occasionally.
They met in the abandoned temple, in his own quarters when Carral was asleep, even – once – in the guard tower when Jay had taken over night watch from a sick lieutenant. And although during other times they maintained a perfect distance, when they were in the same room he was afraid that the connection between them was a tangible thing that surely must be visible to others. Too often, he felt Saghat watching him, and he had never been able to dismiss the suspicion that he harboured underdeveloped psychic perception. It was not unknown for people to hide such tendencies, since recognised prophets were always taken from their caste to a life of monastic service at Court.
He had to end it, and he did not know how.
He did not know how. All his previous experiences had been self-limiting, somehow - mostly single, daring encounters, or liaisons in a transitory situation – and his skill was in recognising and creating the opportunity, not extricating himself afterwards. He had never been trapped for the foreseeable future in the same place as his lover.
It wasn’t as if he got much chance to talk to her. When they were together in public they ignored each other, and when they were alone he could never bring himself to waste the time.
It was only a week after the wedding, however, that circumstances fell in his favour. Carral called him into his office and informed him that he was going to visit his clansman Sahil, whom he had met up with for the first time in a while at Paril’s wedding. Sahil lived on the far coast of Car’a’vil’s single landmass, beyond easy travelling distance on foot or quanthback, and since he would have to take the hoverspeed he would be gone some days. It was the first time that Carral had left his post in all the time Jay had been there. He did not ever seem to go much beyond the castle and never spent the night away.
“I know I can trust you to hold the fort, Jhaval. Keep an eye on Paril, don’t let him get distracted too much. Eh?”
This was Carral’s idea of coarse humour, and Jay smiled obligingly. As for holding the fort, since there was little likelihood of the enemies of Clan Vil swarming through the sea-beyond-the-sky in the next week, he felt confident that he could cope in the general’s absence. He saw Carral off in the hoverspeed with a party of guards and servants the hour before dinner, in the advancing twilight.
Darkness was only just falling when Jay returned to his quarters to get rid of his sword before going down to the dining hall. Something stepped out of the shadows at him and he had drawn his gun before he realised it was Dazil.
He swore, put the weapon away, and turned on the light. “What are you doing here? Are you mad? There are people out there. What if one of the servants comes in?”
She was still standing behind the door, unmoving. Her face, now he looked at it, was pale with tension and her eyes were deep. “No-one would think to look for me here,” she said, in a very low voice.
He threw his sword on the bed. “Who would be looking for you?”
“Saghat,” she said, breathing the name in a terrified underbreath.
Jay stared at her. “What?”
“Lock the door.”
“No. I have to go down to dinner. They’ll notice if I’m delayed.”
“Please. Lock it. I want to talk to you.”
“Talk then, but be quick. You shouldn’t be here.”
“That’s why I asked you to lock the door.”
Irritated, Jay pressed the lock panel, which was programmed to respond only to him. Dazil let out a great breath and rushed at him; against his immediate inclination, he held her. In his arms he could feel that she was shaking. She clung to him for a moment then pulled back. “You must help me,” she said. “I’m in great danger.”
“We’re both in great danger – that’s the way it goes.”
“No – no. It’s nothing to do with what we’ve done. It’s me. Saghat – I’ve got to tell you but I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“I think he’s going to kill me.”
He sat her down on the bed and continued to stare at her, while she continued to grip his arms.
“You don’t believe me. Why should you? These things don’t happen today. But they do, you know. You must have realised that I’m younger than Carral. I’m his second wife. His first wife died after they were married fifteen years. She fell from the north battlements and smashed her head open. She was supposed to have slipped. But it was a dry night, and it was only a few months after Saghat came here.” She leaned closer. “I’ve asked, as discreetly as I can. He was sent here in disgrace, originally. If you’re suspected of a crime you’re often sent far away, somewhere remote from your home, where they think you won’t do any more harm. His superiors knew he was a killer, and they exiled him here.”
“Why would Saghat have killed Carral’s first wife?”
“Because Carral wanted her dead,” she said intensely. “They had no children. Nothing matters more to a warlord than heirs. Fifteen years - nothing. What else could he do, but start again with a young wife? How could he do that, unless she died? Listen! Just before she died, Carral came to stay with my family. He stayed with us three weeks. He wooed me in all but name. Sahil has a daughter, she’s twenty-one. He’s going to try again.”
“This is nonsense.”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me!” She drew back into herself and stared down. “He killed Naril too. I don’t know why, but Carral and Naril had some huge falling out. Saghat is loyal to Carral, you know. He did it – under orde
rs or on his own initiative I don’t know, but I know he did it.”
Jay stood up, uneasy. This accusation, paranoid and fanciful as it seemed, struck a chord with his own half-formed suspicions about Saghat; but he did not want to let Dazil know that.
“Why do you think Carral didn’t report him when he ran amok at the Feast?” she added, persistently. “If he doesn’t try something now, while Carral’s away, then he will, soon – especially if Carral’s meeting with Sahil’s daughter goes well. You must help me.”
He sat down by her again, wondering desperately how to reassure her in a hurry and get her out of here. She had withdrawn from him, but a touch on her hand and her cheek brought her face up to his. Her eyes were almost black.
He said nothing, but kissed her fingertips and caressed the back of her neck.
She snatched her hand away and left him.
There followed some days of silence, while Dazil avoided him in private as well as in public. This was intended to provoke a response from him, he knew that. While he was untroubled by such tactics, she had nonetheless disturbed him; he tried to discount what she had said, but his instincts were firing. He had never been able to give the suspicion a focus, but he had known from the first that there was something unusual, if not wrong, about Saghat. And what alarmed him even more was that Saghat knew there was something wrong with him.
On the day before Carral was expected to return, the news arrived that he had