“Well good, if I see the Mujar, I’ll tell him. I’m sure the news will delight him.”
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He gazed across the room with a preoccupied air. “I don’t need any more proof to order your torture, you know. And it won’t even matter whether or not you tell the truth, because if you are the Mujar girl, he’ll come for you, and if you’re not, it won’t matter to me.”
“She’s the one,” the captain said. “That storm almost sank my ship. It’ll cost me a fortune to repair the sails. How else could she have got here?”
The advisor held up a hand. “I know. The wind was caused by the Mujar hurrying back to help her after he healed the Prince. A noble act on his part, I might add.”
“Then why didn’t you release Arrin?” Talsy demanded.
“Ah.” He beamed, then basked in the approval of the officers, who nodded and smiled.
One clapped him on the shoulder. “Good work, Yusan. The King will be pleased.”
Yusan looked smug. “So, you are with the Mujar.”
Talsy cursed herself for falling into such a stupid, obvious trap, and tried to rectify her mistake. “I didn’t say that. The officer told me he thought Arrin was a Mujar lover, and that one had tried to release him. It’s not that hard to work out.”
“Very clever,” Yusan congratulated her. “But, unless I miss my guess, the Mujar will come for you, and then we’ll have him.”
Realising that denying it further would be useless, she tried another tactic. “If you think he’s stupid enough to fall into this trap, you’re the one who’s really dumb.”
“But I know Mujar, and what clan bond means. You must have protection or aid as part of your bargain, or he wouldn’t have rescued you. He must fulfil his clan bond, my dear. Is Arrin also part of the clan?”
“No. Nor is protection part of the bargain. I know more about Mujar than you, and I’m telling you he won’t come for me.”
“Oh, but he will.” He smiled and signalled to the guards. “Bring her to the sun room. We’ll summon him now.”
The officers filed out, muttering, and the captain’s smug smile faded as he realised that his usefulness was over. Yusan dropped a couple of coins into his hand as he passed, dismissing him. Talsy tried to kick the guards as they dragged her after him, but they merely tightened their grip.
They left the dull, brown stone dungeons and entered a shiny white palace through a narrow corridor. Fluted pillars supported a high ceiling covered with murals of battle and woodland scenes, and potted plants basked in the sunlight that poured in through skylights. A variety of podgy statues, presumably of prior kings, smirked in niches, while haughty portraits stared down from the walls. The guards’ boots rang on polished marble floors, and hers skidded when she dragged them. Anxious terror and horrific visions of Chanter trapped and tortured again clogged her mind. There had to be something she could do to stop it, but her mind was a void when it came to clever plans. Nothing would stop Chanter from coming to her aid, yet how did they plan to trap him? Would they use gold, as her father had, or violence like the thugs in Horran?
The guards stopped in a bright, sun-warmed room with a domed quartz roof and grey-streaked white marble walls. Formal gardens, where clipped hedges lined stone paths and flowering trees shaded beds of bright flowers, were visible between a convex row of fluted marble pillars. A velvet-covered couch and low, glass-topped table furnished it, and white roses twined a trellis outside, sweetening the air with scent. Two shaven-pated servants, clad in blue and yellow livery, stood like statues in shallow alcoves at the back of the room, their hands folded and faces blank. Yusan beckoned to one, who hurried over and bowed. From the servant’s demeanour, Talsy deduced that Yusan was a high-ranking noble.
Yusan said, “Inform the King that we’re ready when he is.”
Talsy racked her brains for a way to warn Chanter. Birds sang outside, mocking her despair. She looked at the advisor, who betrayed a flicker of regret before he averted his gaze.
“Why do you want to hurt him? He’s never done anything to harm anyone,” she said.
“He blackmailed the King.”
Talsy shook her head. “He’d never do that. He told me he made a bargain, begged a favour and granted a Wish in return. That’s not blackmail.”
A muscle twitched in Yusan’s jaw. “The King wishes it. He doesn’t like to be beholden to a Mujar.”
“You know it isn’t true. Just let me go.”
Yusan frowned. “I obey my king.”
“Your king is about to hurt a harmless being. It’s like squashing a butterfly.”
“Mujar aren’t butterflies. If allowed to roam free, they brainwash young people like you into thinking they’re some kind of gods. Eventually they would have had the entire race of Truemen worshipping them.”
“That would have been a good thing. Instead, the Hashon Jahar are wiping out Truemen.”
Yusan looked startled. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. The only beings strong enough to stop the Black Riders are Mujar, but they’re all in the Pits.”
“Mujar won’t help us.”
His uneasiness made Talsy smile. Had no one ever thought of this before? “Why should they? What have we ever done for them?”
Yusan shook his head, recovering his poise. “That’s an insane idea. Mujar wouldn’t do it, and besides, Truemen are in no danger of being wiped out, as you so nicely put it. The Hashon Jahar are merely a savage tribe, and we’ll stop them eventually.”
“Wrong again, smart boy. The Hashon Jahar are of this world, and, like Mujar, they’re undying.”
Yusan crossed the floor to grip her shoulders. “Shut up! You know nothing! It’s Mujar lies! He told you this, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “But I’ve seen them, and they’re not men.”
A group of well-dressed men entered, forcing the advisor to release her and bow to his king. The guards dragged Talsy down with them, although she would rather have spat in the monarch’s face. King Garsh stood out by virtue of his bearded blond bulk and the gold circlet. Gold brocade patterned the collar and cuffs of his indigo jacket, which he wore over a white silk shirt tucked into matching trousers. Beside him, a frail boy of about five strutted in pale blue, silver-edged finery that almost matched his father’s outfit. Three black-clad advisors and a stocky, handsome man with curly brown hair and bright green eyes followed them. He wore brown leather studded with silver, which made Talsy think that he must be a huntsman or executioner.
King Garsh eyed her. “So this is her? A pretty little thing, but common.” He indicated the green-eyed man. “This is Darron. He’s going to make sure the Mujar behaves himself.”
Darron smiled.
“Well, let’s get on with it,” Garsh said. “I don’t have all day. Move the couch so I can see.”
The servants dragged the couch to a better vantage, turning it to face the garden. The King settled on it, the Prince beside him. Darron approached Talsy, drew a long dagger from his belt and held it up, hoping, no doubt, to frighten her. She glared at him. He pressed the blade to the hollow of her throat, where her pulse beat.
“Call the Mujar, bitch.”
“No.”
The weapon pricked her skin. “I’ll cut you if you don’t.”
“Go ahead, kill me, then he’ll never come.”
Darron shook his head. “I’m not going to kill you yet.”
“And I’m not going to call him.”
Yusan said, “She doesn’t have to call him; the danger will.”
Darron’s dagger dug deeper, and blood oozed from the cut. Talsy bit her tongue.
The Prince pointed and crowed, “Look, Papa, she’s bleeding!”
King Garsh smiled as the Prince bounced and giggled, standing on the couch to peer at Talsy. Judging by their expressions, everyone except the King found the Prince’s ghoulish inclinations shocking. The senior advisors shot him sideways glances of distaste, Yusan grimaced and k
ept his eyes on Talsy, who struggled to remain calm.
Talsy wished she knew what warned Chanter when she was in danger. Perhaps it was her fear, and if she could control it, he would not come. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the pain and stifle her anxiety. They would not kill her while they needed her. The dagger sliced a burning wound down her chest, severed her jacket’s thongs and came to rest over her heart.
Darron whispered, “You’ve got spirit, girl, I’ll give you that.”
The blade’s point pricked her as he dug it in, making her gasp and open her eyes.
“All I have to do is push, and you’re dead,” he murmured.
Talsy spat in his face, making him recoil. The dagger whipped up to press against her throat, poised over the throbbing artery.
“Don’t make me angry, little girl,” he said, wiping his cheek.
“Do it, and the Mujar goes free.”
“I know.”
Talsy swallowed a scream as the dagger sliced into her shoulder. The Prince crowed and clapped, urging Darron to cut more. She closed her eyes again, praying Chanter would not come to her aid this time.
The daltar eagle drifted over the city, pinions rippling and tail steering as he scanned the crowds for a familiar figure. He had searched all morning, taking on the eagle form for easier flying. He wondered if she was locked up somewhere, but what reason could they have to imprison a young girl? Surely, even if she had transgressed, they would soon release her. He did not like to leave Arrin trapped in the woods for too long.
Folding his wings slightly, Chanter glided down to hover over the houses. On the street, a kitchen boy emptied a bucket of scraps into the gutter. Several stray dogs, a few crows and two vultures descended upon the pile of offal and crusts. The sight of their feasting reminded him of his hunger, and he considered joining them. He lowered his feet to the rooftop and almost leapt into the air again. The deep clang of Dolana’s urgent warning pounded through the roof, coming from the palace. With a mighty downbeat, Chanter sprang into the air, his wings powering him towards the King’s domicile. Now that he had heard the warning, he knew whence it came. A pillared sun room came into sight, and he glided down, checked his speed with a backstroke and dropped to the floor.
Talsy shouted, “Get out of here! It’s a trap!”
The man who menaced her slapped her. “Shut up!”
The wind whipped the advisors’ black robes as Chanter transformed. He glanced around at the regal audience, his eyes settling upon Talsy and her tormentor. As he was about to invoke Crayash, Yusan stepped forward.
“Use the Powers, and she dies.”
Chanter hesitated, considering the situation. The blade pressed to Talsy’s throat would kill her with one cut, and the man who held it looked tough and determined, as did the soldiers who gripped her arms. His powers would not intimidate them, since they knew he would not want to harm them, and he did not doubt the advisor’s threat. Deciding the risk was too great, he relaxed, his eyes flicking to the King and Prince. He recognised the boy he had saved from the brink of death, and wondered why he was now summoned here in this hostile fashion.
Garsh smiled. “So, Mujar, we meet again. A neat trick, hey? We have you trapped.”
Chanter inclined his head, puzzled. “You do, it would seem.”
“Now you’ll pay for the insult you offered me. Did you think you would escape punishment for your acts?”
“I offered no insult. I saved your son.”
Garsh’s hard smile was replaced by a scowl. “You put the price of a common soldier’s freedom as sufficient to pay for my son’s life! Then you spurn my offer of comforts as though my roof isn’t good enough for you to sup under.” Foam flecked the King’s lips. “What do you think you are? Better than me? Better than a king? You condescended to heal my son only because you wanted something, or else you would have let him die. Your insults won’t go unpunished, Mujar scum! You forced me to obey you or lose my only son!”
Talsy stood rigid, the green-eyed man’s hand clamped over her mouth. Chanter said, “I didn’t force you to do anything. Without my aid, your son would be dead now. What does it matter why I saved him? My request was a small favour for you to grant, and I was forced to leave because my clan was in danger.”
“I don’t care why you left! You could have demanded a mountain of jewels for my son’s life, and I’d have paid it. That, I would have understood and respected, but you damned Mujar bastards revel in your power, don’t you?”
Garsh almost frothed at the mouth, his face reddening. “You treat us like fools and incompetents, taking every opportunity to make us feel inferior, beholden, granting wishes like you’re some sort of god. I am a king, and I won’t allow the likes of you to best me. I will have retribution! You’ll surrender, or she dies!”
“Let her go,” Chanter murmured.
“When I have you, not before.”
The Mujar glanced at Talsy, his heart aching. The situation was unprecedented and confusing. Garsh was blackmailing him, yet there was no way out of the predicament. If he refused, Talsy would die and he would have failed her Wish of protection. By doing that, he would be guilty of her death, which he could not allow. If not for her Wish, he could have allowed her to die, since clan bond did not include protection. Strangely, it all hinged on the words Talsy had spoken months ago, which were burnt into his memory. Once again, he regretted that he had not allowed her Wish to be fulfilled on a prior occasion, and wondered why he had not. The ways of Mujar were complicated and little understood by Truemen, but, in this instance, he must allow Garsh to blackmail him in order to save Talsy’s life. This was a singular event, one that would never be repeated.
Chanter met Talsy’s eyes and intoned the ritual words that released him from his obligation and made her useless to the King for future demands. “Wish fulfilled.”
Talsy wrenched free of her tormentor’s hand. “No! Fly! Don’t -”
The man slapped her, then grabbed her again, and the blade sliced into her neck. She writhed in the guards’ grip as the torturer’s hold on her face muffled her scream.
The Mujar stepped towards her. “Don’t harm her.”
Garsh laughed. “How touching! As if a Mujar could care for a Trueman! Now you’re mine, so don’t try to resist!”
Chanter bowed his head as Yusan approached, pulling his hands from the pockets of his robe. In each, he held a golden bracelet, and Chanter took an instinctive backward step at the sight of the dreaded metal.
“You’ll wear them, Mujar,” the King snarled, “or she dies.”
Talsy shared Chanter’s fear of the bracelets, hating the way in which the Wish she had made so long ago had trapped him. They would bind him with gold and throw him in a Pit, and she would never see him again. He would suffer a living death in the bowels of the earth, trapped by the overwhelming power of Dolana. The thought of his impending doom filled her with a terrible anguish and a desperate need to save him at any cost. She could not let him suffer because of her stupidity and ignorance, nor could she allow him to sacrifice himself to save her.
Ignoring the pain, she gave a mighty heave and freed her mouth again. “Chanter, I release you! I don’t want the Wish fulfilled! Go!”
Yusan laughed.
Chanter shook his head. “You can’t. I granted it, and I must fulfil it.”
His soft, resigned words tore her heart, and tears spilt down her cheeks. Her last hope of saving him died with those words. His fate was sealed because he would not abandon her. Darron chuckled in her ear, his sour breath fanning her cheek. He only kept the dagger pressed to her neck, since nothing she said would change the situation now.
Yusan stepped closer to the Mujar. “Hold out your hands.”
“No, Chanter!” Talsy wailed. “Don’t let them take you to a Pit! Fly free! I would rather die!”
He stared at her. “You would die for me?”
Talsy nodded, sobs choking her. “Yes.”
“Stupid bitch,” Darr
on snarled. “Mujar lover.”
“Hold out your hands!” Yusan barked.
Chanter raised his hands, looking puzzled, as if something important had just occurred to him, but he was not sure what it was. Talsy met his eyes with a pleading look, silently begging him not to give up his freedom for her sake, her throat too clogged to speak. Yusan snapped a golden bracelet around Chanter’s wrist, and he shivered, looking away.
The sight of the gold locked around his wrist made Talsy try to find another way to free him. She shouted at the King, “No! Don’t do it! You doom your people!”
Yusan snapped on the second bracelet, and Chanter’s head drooped. The advisor smiled. “My theory works, Sire. Put gold around their necks, and they become complete zombies, but around the wrist they merely lose their Powers.”
The King rose and approached the Mujar to gaze down at the slender unman’s bowed head. “How ironic. He gives up his precious freedom for the sake of a Trueman slut, just because of some silly Wish he granted. Yet he would have let my son die had he not wanted that boy released to fulfil the Wish of some other Trueman. He could have earned riches and respect, if only he hadn’t insisted on turning the tables and making me the one who had to obey his orders to earn his favour.”
“They’re stupid, Majesty.”
“You bastards,” Talsy said. “You’ll burn in Hell for this! In Hell! The Hashon Jahar will wipe you out! You’ll regret this day, I swear it!”
Darron slapped her again, making her eyes water. “Shut up, or I’ll slice you good!”
The King looked at her and nodded. “Don’t let his sacrifice be for nothing, girl. I’ll let you live if you don’t make trouble.”
Talsy bit her lip, blinking away tears. Chanter raised his head and gazed at her with an expression of profound forgiveness, gentle affection and resignation. His gaze flicked to Garsh, and the gentleness in his expression drained away, leaving his eyes cold and empty.
“Don’t harm her,” he begged.
Garsh laughed. “It’s not her I want to harm, scum. She’s just a silly girl you led astray. I want to hurt you!”
The King drove his fist into Chanter’s gut, making the Mujar double over. Garsh punched him again, harder. Chanter sank to his knees, clasping his belly, and Garsh kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling.