Sinner by Sara Douglass. Book One of The Wayfarer Redemption

Leagh felt as though she might faint. She stared at Zared, a hand to her throat. “Is what he says true, Zared?”

“Leagh, I did not tell you, for I had no way of knowing if Askam lay dead or alive. I -”

Leagh looked back at Axis. “Askam is crippled? What do you mean?”

“He has an arm torn from him, Leagh. He will be maimed for life for his loyalty to Caelum. And yet here you are. His sister, who he thought loyal to him… who Caelum thought loyal! Were you forced into this marriage, or were you a free and willing partner to Zared’s treachery? What did he tempt you with? A crown? Power? How did he buy your support in this… this foul deed?”

Leagh looked between the two men, both now staring unblinking at her, both demanding her loyalty, both demanding that she choose. All she would have to do to escape this marriage, and escape Zared, would be to claim she’d not been a willing partner to the marriage. Claim she’d been forced to consent. All she’d have to do is lie.

But had not Zared lied to her? Why hadn’t he told her about Askatn? Gods, what should she do? “Answer me!” Axis snapped.

“I…” she began, then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I went willingly into my marriage, Axis.”

“Then willingly you shall share the same fate as Zared!” Axis snarled, then whipped about to his brother. “Caelum leads Tencendor now, Zared, and he swears he will lead an army to your destruction! Curse your misled ambition, Zared! Tencendor needs to be united now as never before! Ah! I shall leave you to Caelum. This is not my fight any longer!”

“If Caelum comes after me – and by coming after me he comes after all Acharites – he will aid in the destruction of your own dream,” Zared said quietly. “All Caelum had to do, all you had to do, was to admit that the Acharites deserve as much pride as do the Icarü, or the Avar, or the Ravensbund. If Tencendor now slides into war, Axis, then know it is a war that SunSoar blindness has started.”

Axis stared at him, his face working with his fury, then with an abrupt motion of his hand, he vanished.

His presence and anger stayed for longer. Zared and Leagh stood motionless for some minutes, waiting for it to dissipate, then Zared slowly turned to Leagh.

“Lady,” he said quietly, taking her hand and kissing it. “I do thank you.”

Leagh snatched her hand from his, her entire face contorted with an emotion he could not read.

“You said you would be honest with me,” she said, “and then you set the trap that almost killed my brother.”

And she turned her back and left him standing there.

Voices in the Ni He lay in bed, and listened to the sound of the strange, cold world outside, and the gentle breathing of the strange, cold woman beside him.

If he had ever believed StarLaughter loved him, or even regarded him well, he no longer laboured under that misapprehension.

She used him, as did the Questors. As perhaps also that frightening, vacant baby who even now lay uselessly attached to StarLaughter’s breast.

Lying there, looking with sightless eyes into the night.

Drago lurched out of bed before he gave in to the overwhelming desire to snatch the baby and throw him with all his strength through the open window. Would the baby bounce when he hit the hard stone ground outside? And once he had bounced and rolled, would he just lie there, and stare, stare, stare?

He stood trembling, making sure that he’d not woken StarLaughter.

No. She slept as soundly as ever.

Slowly he relaxed, taking deep breaths and stretching the muscles of his back and shoulders. It was deep night -he had hours to himself if he wished, and yet hours to do what? There was nothing to do in this bizarre existence save wander amid the petrified stone forest outside and listen to the flock of children whisper for revenge as they swept swift and shadowlike through the trees.

Perhaps the Questors sat, awaiting some conversation. Drago did not know what they did with themselves through the night hours, but he suspected they did not sleep. More than likely they just sat in their semi-circle of chairs. Watching.

Drago shivered and walked over to the chair where he’d draped his clothes the night previously. He hunched into a light robe, then his eye fell on the sack of coins.

He hesitated, then snatched the sack from the chair and wandered over to the archway that led into the stone-frozen garden.

In the distant night he could make out a blacker shadow whirling through the trees.

Drago dragged his eyes away from the Hawkchilds, and sat down on the floor, his back against the pillar of the arch, his knees bent, the coins tumbling out of the sack into his lap.

He picked one up and studied it in the poor light. What did it mean, this staff on one side and the sword on the other? Why had the Sceptre transformed itself into coins? Had the Sceptre meant to do that, or was it an unwanted consequence of the leap through the Star Gate?

He rolled the coin slowly through his fingers, gradually relaxing, the questions drifting away in his mind. He leaned his head back against the cold stone of the arch, and again dreamed of the hunt. But this time he watched as…

the doe fled panicked through the forest, the hunters gaining on her, the hounds (birds?) at her heels. In an instant they had her down, and she was torn apart in a flurry of frantic kicking hooves and blood spraying through the…

Drago’s eyes flew open, his heart pounding, and he stared about the chamber.

Nothing. All was quiet. StarLaughter lay as if stone herself, the infant staring into the void from her breast.

He turned his head. Outside the children wheeled through the stone forest, hunting… would they hunt Faraday if they returned?

Surely not. Surely. They only wanted WolfStar. They would leave Faraday alone. Wouldn’t they?

But who did the Questors hunt?

You may have to protect her, as she will protect you.

Drago jerked halfway to his feet, staring wildly about him. That voice, an old man’s voice, had echoed through his mind but had also seemed to whisper through the spaces about him.

We are grateful, Drago, that you served to free her.

Another voice. A woman’s voice, seductive and humorous.

Thank you.

Now several voices all at once. Drago stared about, his mouth dry with fear, not moving only because he did not know which way to flee. He recognised the touch of power, and loathed it. Were these the Questors, come to taunt him?

No.

“Who then?” he whispered. “Who?”

Silence.

We were once free, then gave our freedom to serve the Prophecy and make the Sceptre.

Drago remembered tales of the five Sentinels, and dimly recalled his father saying once that they had given their lives to make the Sceptre. Hadn’t they been burned… or something?

Once we were the Sentinels, but no more.

Drago slowly settled back on the floor, his muscles still tense, every sense alert. He rolled the coin between his fingers again, feeling its smooth, cool metal surface.

Drago, you have done some reprehensible things. The voice of a stern man. Authoritative. Jack.

Drago grimaced. Another father figure to hound him and remind him of his mistakes.

Truly reprehensible things. The woman again, laughing. But nevertheless, you are very intriguing. Yr, the seductress.

The coin stilled in Drago’s fingers. His legs tingled, warm, as if a large cat had brushed against them.

Now the voices continued apace, but they talked among themselves rather than to Drago. Freed from that damned Sceptre! At last!

Given our freedom. Freed to the Stars.

They continued to chatter, moving into what Drago thought nonsense. Arguments about the lengths of donkeys’ ears, or the precise colour of Faraday’s gown. They talked a ‘great deal about freedom and choice, and then got deep into a debate about whether choice was freedom or imprisonment. He may not have followed their chatter or their reasoning, but Drago listened anyway. They were surely argumentative, but they were also amusing and intriguing, and just the sound of their voices gave Drago a sense of well-being and peace. And somehow they seemed to give just a little hope. She comes! Be still!

Unpanicked but warned, Drago folded the coin into the palm of his hand, and arranged his robe so that it hid the pile in his lap.

“And what does my fine man do here on the floor?”

StarLaughter sank down beside him.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.” She ran a hand through his hair. “My poor man. The Questors will not need you in the morning. Shall we sit and talk? Or shall I teach you how to hold my baby just so when I give him a bath?”