Sinner by Sara Douglass. Book One of The Wayfarer Redemption

“And so you – we – must do something to make the StarSon realise just how serious Acharite needs are.”

“Yes?”

“Kastaleon.”

Zared stared at him, then slowly smiled. “You counsel well. Kastaleon it is. If we seize that, then not only will it free trade along the Nordra, but Caelum will realise the need for dialogue.”

“And, of course,” Goldman said, “Caelum will appreciate that you could have done much worse. The entire West lies for the taking, but you content yourself with Kastaleon.”

“You have been wasted in the guilds, good Master Goldman,” Zared said. “You are a diplomat born and bred.”

Goldman shrugged depreciatingly, but his eyes glinted. “Tis the very reason I am Master of the Guilds, my Prince.”

Zared looked at the other two. “How will Caelum react? With dialogue, another Council, or with war? If Caelum raises the resources of Tencendor against us, we will be crushed within a day.”

“I think not,” Herme said. “Goldman spoke well. Caelum will do everything he can to avoid war. You will be reprimanded, yes, but you will also be listened to. Caelum is not his father. He has not been trained and bred in war and he will most certainly not rush into it. Zared,” he said very quietly and with the insight of his years, “Caelum feels insecure on that throne. He will do anything to avoid a serious confrontation.”

Zared narrowed his eyes at Herme. Caelum felt insecure on the throne? He’d never thought about it, but it just might be true. Axis had been a superb war leader and an equally good peace-time ruler. It must be hard for Caelum to wonder every day if his subjects compared him to Axis, or to pause before every action to agonise, “Is this how Axis would have done it?”

Finally he gave a single nod. “What force does Askam have at Kastaleon?”

“Small, my Prince,” Theod said, then grinned wolfishly. “Tencendor is at peace, after all.”

“I want this bloodless,” Zared said. “I am, after all, only making a point.”

A moot point, my lord, Herme thought cynically, for we are going to war! His blood leapt in joy at the thought. War. Herme had been too young to participate in the wars that had gripped Tencendor forty years ago, and yet he had been trained for war all his life. He longed for it, and he longed to see the Acharites regain their rightful place in this new world that Axis SunSoar had created.

“I leave first thing in the morning,” Zared said. “You two follow in three days. I do not want Caelum to see us ride out together.”

He paused. “Leagh. I cannot leave her behind…”

“You most assuredly should not,” Goldman said, “for she will be as important a conquest as Kastaleon. But you cannot seize her and carry her off with you.”

“I was not quite thinking in those terms, Goldman,” Zared said. “What do you suggest?”

“I have the perfect plan, my Prince,” Goldman said, and smiled. “I will travel from Sigholt with you, and then head straight for Carlon to prepare the way. But you, Sirs Duke and Earl, shall carry a little something extra on your ride from Sigholt… don’t you think?”

It was late, but Zared could not settle. He moved restlessly about his chamber, picking up a boot here, a book there, eventually discarding them all. He had given Gustus his orders, and in the early morning they would ride out.

Ostensibly for Severin.

Zared would be very glad to get out of this Keep. Its bewitched air was all very well for the SunSoars and Icarü Enchanters, but Zared longed for the smell of the grass plains, and the homey bustle of Severin.

When would he see it again?

He sighed and decided that wandering about his chamber was doing him no good. He needed to see Leagh and, failing that, to find Zenith and ask her to give Leagh a message for him.

“I will fight for you, Leagh,” Zared whispered into the room, then he turned for the door.

The corridors were very quiet. Most people would be asleep by this time. Zared walked to the main stairwell and was preparing to mount to the next floor when Zenith appeared, coming down.

She halted at the sight of him, and Zared held out a hand in concern.

“Zenith, what is wrong?”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes unnaturally bright, and her own hand trembled as she took his.

“I am Zenith,” she said, her voice almost harsh. “I ami”

Zared’s concern deepened and he drew her closer, putting an arm about her waist. “Sweetheart? What is wrong?”

He gently folded her wings and stroked them with one hand. “Come now, Zenith, what’s wrong?”

Zared’s voice calmed her. He had always been a close friend, and Zenith trusted him more than most. But… “I cannot speak of it, Zared, Please, do not -”

The sound of feet drumming on the stairs above them stopped her mid-sentence. She and Zared looked up. It was Caelum, coming down the stairs at a pace that was almost a run. He crashed into Zared and Zenith before he could bring himself to a halt.

“What do you here?” he snapped.

“What do you do, almost falling down these stairs?” Zared asked.

Caelum ignored him. “Zenith, I’ve been looking for you. We need to talk. I don’t want you to think that -”

And then, before he could finish, the disturbed peace of the stairwell was further shattered by a roar of anger from the level above them.

“Murder! Murder! A foul murder!”

It was Isfrael’s voice.

“Isfrael?” Zared muttered. “Did he say -”

“Murder?” Caelum cried, then leaped for the stairwell. “His voice came from RiverStar’s room!”

Zenith roused in Zared’s arms. “No, no… Stars! No,'”

Zared hurried with her after Caelum. By the gods! Zared thought, all of Sigholt’s windows and doors need to be flung open to rid it of the ill-feeling floating about its spaces!

By the time Caelum, Zared and Zenith had climbed the stairs and reached RiverStar’s open door the night was still and quiet.

The faint glow of a lamp shone through the doorway, and Caelum strode through without a word or a knock.

He halted two strides in. Immediately before him stood FreeFall and Isfrael, both stiff with shock. Caelum pushed them to one side, then stilled at the horror revealed.

Behind him Zared’s and Zenith’s faces went slack with disbelief.

Drago knelt on the far side of the chamber, a bloodied kitchen knife in his hand. On the floor before him lay RiverStar, her limbs and wings flung wide, her dress torn and rent, her body smeared with blood that even as they watched puddled in dull pools about her.

Her eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling. They were blank. Uncaring. Dead.

Caelum slowly raised his eyes towards Drago’s face. As in his chamber when WolfStar had told the gathering about what he’d heard at the Star Gate, all Caelum could see was Gorgrael hurtling out of the sky, following DragonStar’s call. He remembered the agony of Gorgrael’s claws wrapped about his body. He remembered DragonStar’s triumph as he had thought he’d finally rid himself of his hated brother.

And now here lay RiverStar, murdered, and his hated brother crouched in undeniable guilt over her corpse.

All could now see his damnable treachery. And this time, Caelum thought, we will finally do away with you, brother.

“No doubt I shall be blamed for this,” Drago said with extraordinary calmness. He stood up, but he did not drop the knife. His eyes were fixed on Caelum’s face.

Zenith pushed past Isfrael, FreeFall and Caelum and sank to her knees before her sister’s body. “RiverStar?” she said uselessly. “RiverStar?” Her hands trembled badly. She clenched them, then reached out and closed RiverStar’s eyelids.

“Isn’t there something you can do?” Zared asked, looking between the two Enchanters and Isfrael. “Surely “There is nothing we can do,” Zenith said. “Nothing! The Song of Recreation can work only on the dying. Not even the gods can resurrect the dead.”

She turned to Drago. “Drago? What happened?”

There was a silence, and when Drago responded he looked only at Caelum. “I don’t know. It is as if… as if I can’t remember…”

He frowned suddenly, and looked at Zenith. “It is as if I have a dark hole in my memory. I heard Isfrael cry out, and I blinked, and here I was.”

Zenith went cold at his words. You too? she thought.

“You don’t know?” Caelum said. His tone was angry, yet somehow almost mocking.

“We found them like this,” FreeFall said, his voice hoarse with shock. “Isfrael had just joined me in my chamber down the corridor. We heard… felt…”

“Despair,” Isfrael said, his voice so even it was almost detached. “We felt despair from this room, so we investigated.”

Yet if Isfrael’s voice seemed detached, his body was so taut he appeared as if he would uncoil and strike at any moment.