The Beggars of Nebreth City

By Ashley Abbiss

When 15-year-old Tassatina was adopted by Princess ‎Niari, she expected her life to be different. She had fine ‎clothes and an education, she was waited on and treated ‎like royalty. She was even awarded her own title of ‎nobility; Baroness Tassatina. It was all wonderful dream. ‎

But now, it’s become a nightmare.‎

Tassi has been accused of trying to assassinate the ‎Queen of Nebreth and condemned to death without ‎even a trial. At the same time, rumours surface that Niari ‎and Carlitha may have put her up to it so they can seize ‎the throne. And, of course, many people distrust ‎sorceresses on principle.‎
Niari breaks Tassi out of prison before the sentence ‎of death can be carried out, and now Tassi, Niari and ‎Carlitha are all on the run, trying to avoid their brother ‎the King and his soldiers until such time as they can ‎prove their innocence. So, why are they living as beggars ‎on the streets of Nebreth City, right under their brother’s ‎nose?‎

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Abbiss
• Release date: Aug 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370345885

Ashley Abbiss

Hello there. I’m Ashley Abbiss. ‎I live and write in beautiful New Zealand, where I live with one large dog, who looks nothing ‎like Friend from my Daughters of Destiny books. She is, however, almost as intelligent and definitely as ‎opinionated, and if she can’t quite speak in the way Friend does to Niari, that doesn’t really ‎hold her back much!‎I write fantasy, mostly of the epic variety. Let me say right up front that if you’re looking for a quick read, you’re in the wrong place. But if you like a substantial, ‎satisfying story that you can really get your teeth into, stick with me. I may have something ‎you’ll enjoy. There’s no graphic sex in my books. If that’s what you want, you’ll have to look ‎elsewhere. There is violence, and there is swearing, though mostly of the ‘s/he swore’ variety, ‎nothing overly graphic or offensive. I also write about strong, independent female characters, ‎so if your taste runs to something more macho, or something more frilly and helpless, this may ‎not be the place for you. ‎I’ve always loved wandering in different worlds, be they fantasy or science fiction, although ‎lately I tend to prefer fantasy. The only proviso is that they have to be believable worlds, ‎worlds that feel real, that have depth and scope – and they must, absolutely must be fun to ‎visit. I read for escape and entertainment, and I don’t really want to escape from this world ‎into one even grimmer. Trouble, tension, and danger I can deal with, what sort of story would ‎there be without them? Where would Pern be without Thread, Frodo without Sauron, Harry ‎Potter without Voldemort? But there has to be hope, and there has to be a light touch. Happy ‎ever after does have a lot going for it, even if initially it’s only a very small light at the end of ‎a long, dark tunnel. My personal favourites include Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy, Anne ‎McCaffrey’s Pern series, and the fantasies of David Eddings, and lately, they’ve been joined ‎by J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and a few others. Of those, David Eddings was probably my ‎greatest inspiration.‎I began to wonder if I could create my own world, one just as believable and multi-layered as ‎theirs. Could I create a world with its own history, geography, social structure, deities, and all ‎the rest? One that hung together? That a reader could believe in? It became a challenge, one I ‎really wanted to see if I could meet. So I dusted off my writing skills, learned a few more, ‎cranked up the imagination, and got busy. I’d always been good at creative writing, but ‎though I’d made a few attempts to write after I left school, none of them came to anything. ‎That was until I started writing fantasy. Suddenly, I knew I’d come home. ‎I quickly discovered that I’m not the sort of writer who can plan a book (or a world!) before I ‎start. I just can’t do it. But I can create characters, and suddenly the characters took on a ‎reality of their own and took over the stories, often to the extent that they actually surprised ‎me. And the stories worked. Their world worked. Sometimes I had to go back and fix the ‎odd contradiction, but mostly it worked and was very natural and organic. Even though my ‎first attempts were pitiful, I knew I’d found where I belong. I persevered, I learned, I wrote. ‎I discovered that the characters are key for me. Once I get them right, they tell their own ‎story. I was away. There were dark days during which my stories became my refuge, my ‎characters my friends. And I kept writing. There were happy times when I didn’t need a ‎refuge, but my characters were still my friends, and they drew me inexorably back. I kept ‎writing. ‎And now, I hope my characters may become your friends too, my worlds ones where you also ‎like to walk; perhaps even your refuge from dark days. Come join me in a world where magic ‎is real and the gods are near, where beasts talk and men and women achieve things they never ‎dreamed they could. But most of all, come and have fun! ‎Happy reading.‎Ash.‎

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

There was a frost coming down. The air was brittle ‎with it, the stones of the parapet glittered blackly in the ‎moonlight. The stars were as hard and as cold as daggers, ‎the thousand merciless eyes of an unforgiving universe. ‎Rozvin tucked her pike under her arm and blew on her ‎frozen fingers, trying vainly to warm them. ‎

She had perfectly good gloves issued by the Temple, ‎fur-lined and cosy, but they weren’t much use to her ‎sitting on the table in her room in the barracks. Cursing ‎herself for a fool, she pulled her hat down a bit more ‎snugly over her ears. At least she had remembered to ‎bring that. ‎

She walked briskly, eager to reach the guardhouse. ‎At least that was out of the weather. There was even a ‎brazier. It wasn’t exactly cosy, since of course the arrow ‎slits were unglazed, but at least she could thaw her hands ‎out a bit and make tea. Rozvin was looking forward to a ‎cup of tea. Maybe even soup, if she was lucky. ‎

The kitchen usually sent up bread hot from the ovens ‎at about this time, and sometimes soup, if there was any ‎left over from the night before. It was a nice treat, one of ‎the few things that made night watch bearable, especially ‎at this time of year, when you could almost count on ‎being either half frozen or half drowned by the time the ‎dawn shift arrived to relieve you.‎

Three hours until then, she reckoned with a sigh, ‎looking up at the sky. It felt like forever. Rozvin hated ‎this midnight to dawn watch with a passion. The rest of ‎the job, though, wasn’t bad. Being a member of the ‎Atriosine Temple Guard, even a lowly new recruit, ‎carried a certain amount of prestige with it, and Rozvin ‎found that rather nice. ‎

The training was excellent. She had realised early on ‎that she had an opportunity here to learn a great deal ‎about her chosen profession, and she was determined to ‎take full advantage of it. It was a good job, with real ‎prospects for advancement if she worked hard, and she ‎knew she was lucky to have it. ‎

She liked the uniform, although in truth it was not so ‎much the uniform itself that appealed to her, but the fact ‎of wearing one. She was feminine enough to take ‎pleasure in the fact that the sky blue pants and tunic with ‎the golden sun effigy on the breast and the maroon ‎shoulder cape looked very well on her, but that wasn’t ‎what counted. ‎

What did was that wearing the uniform gave her a ‎sense of belonging, almost of family, and that was ‎something she held very dear. Rozvin had left the land ‎of her birth and come here to Falodirian less than a year ‎ago. Her family, her friends, everything that was dear ‎and familiar to her had been left behind. In truth, she’d ‎had little choice, since she was an outcast in her own ‎land. ‎

But she was an alien here, too, a stranger in a strange ‎land, with strange people and strange new customs. She ‎was managing to make a place for herself, but it had ‎been a trying time. Belonging to the Temple Guard gave ‎her a place to belong; a replacement, poor though it was, ‎for the tribe and the family she had left behind. Wearing ‎the uniform, therefore, meant a great deal to her. It was, ‎in her eyes, a kind of badge of membership, an ‎affirmation that she did, indeed, belong.‎

She rounded another corner of the battlements. A ‎torch in a metal sconce burned at the corner, and she ‎stopped for a moment to warm her frozen hands at the ‎flame. Turning back to continue on her way, she looked ‎out over the roofs of the sleeping city to the far horizon ‎where the sky of black glass with its dagger-point stars ‎met an earth that looked just as hard-edged and ‎inhospitable. Oh well, she thought, look on the bright ‎side. At least it wasn’t raining. That was something to be ‎grateful for. Wasn’t it?‎

She resumed her patrol but stopped in her tracks as ‎the sky above the horizon was lit by a sudden flare of ‎light. One, two, three shooting stars descended from the ‎heavens in a triple streak of incandescence to disappear ‎behind the far hills. Rozvin’s breath caught in her throat, ‎and a little shiver of superstitious fear ran up her spine. ‎

In her native culture shooting stars were powerful ‎omens, and three was the number of instability and ‎change. An omen of warning then. But warning of what? ‎That was the worst of omens. They were notoriously ‎non-specific, and what was the good of being told you ‎should be afraid when you didn’t know what to be ‎afraid of? ‎

And this particular omen was especially unsettling. ‎Rozvin had just begun to get her life on track. Instability ‎and change were the last things she needed. She had a ‎sudden vision of herself standing at the edge of an abyss ‎with the ground crumbling from beneath her feet even as ‎she tried to scramble back from the edge. ‎

She told herself not to be stupid, that the omen had ‎nothing do with her personally, but somewhere deep in ‎her gut, the conviction remained. Somehow, with a ‎knowledge deeper and more primitive than anything ‎reason could overcome, Rozvin knew that the life she ‎had so painstakingly built for herself was under threat, ‎and there was nothing at all she could do about this ‎crumbling cliff of fate except to hope that not too many ‎things were irretrievably broken when she landed at the ‎bottom of it. ‎

Apprehension twisted her gut, and it was several ‎moments before she felt able to go on. With a sense of ‎the essential unfairness of life, she deliberately turned ‎her back on the place where the stars had dived toward ‎the earth and continued on her way, determined to ‎concentrate solely on her duty for the rest of the night. ‎Tomorrow, when she had rested and was refreshed - ‎well, as refreshed as she ever felt on this shift - would be ‎the time to consider what the omen might mean and ‎what, if anything, she could do to avert total disaster.‎

There wasn’t soup when she reached the guardhouse, ‎but there were spicy buns with rich yellow butter, which ‎as far as Rozvin was concerned was the next best thing. ‎The tea was good and hot, and she wrapped her hands ‎around her mug to warm them, and between warm hands ‎and a full belly, life began to seem worth the effort ‎again. ‎

The remainder of her shift passed more quickly than ‎she had anticipated, and almost before she knew it the ‎next shift had arrived to take over the watch. Rozvin ‎climbed wearily down from the parapet and began to ‎make her way across the temple compound. But instead ‎of heading for the women’s barracks, she turned the ‎other way, towards the men’s quarters. ‎

One of the things that made life in Atriosa attractive ‎was a guard named Gof. It had occurred to Rozvin an ‎hour or two ago that a pleasant romp with Gof might ‎warm her blood and help her to unwind before bed, and ‎the idea had grown more and more attractive as the night ‎wore on. ‎

She was halfway there when she remembered that ‎Gof wouldn’t be there. Illness had forced a reshuffling ‎of the roster. Right now, he would be starting a shift in ‎the prison compound. Rozvin uttered a few choice ‎curses, looked about her for a moment, then started ‎purposefully off in the direction of the baths. ‎

They were another perk of the job that made her glad ‎she was here. They weren’t quite as good as Gof, of ‎course, but they should help her to warm up and relax a ‎bit. Rozvin had never seen anything like them. A large ‎stone building housed three great pools of water, kept at ‎a constant temperature by a system of pipes that pumped ‎water heated by great furnaces to the pools and let ‎cooled and dirty water flow out again. ‎

No matter the time of the day or night, one could ‎always enjoy a bath, cool, warm, or hot, depending on ‎which pool one chose. Bathing was free to anyone who ‎served within the temple compound, and towels were ‎provided, but one could also purchase from the ‎attendants a range of soaps, oils and perfumes, a shave, a ‎haircut, a massage, or even, in the case of the men, the ‎attentions of a Consecrated Woman, one of the ‎prostitutes who served as priestesses of Atrios in his ‎guise as god of love. ‎

A pity, thought Rozvin sourly, that there were no ‎Consecrated Men. But there were, of course. They were ‎the priests of Atrios as god of the sun, but they were no ‎good to her. Though she had heard that there had been a ‎recent change of policy, they were all celibate until the ‎new laws were ratified. ‎

Rozvin spared a moment to reflect on the ‎contradiction of prostitute priestesses and celibate ‎priests. Although the conditions of her employment did ‎not include a requirement that she worship Atrios, she ‎did attend temple now and again when her duties ‎permitted. But she seriously doubted that she would ever ‎feel any great reverence for a god as fickle as Atrios ‎seemed to be.‎

The bath house was virtually deserted at this early ‎hour, which suited Rozvin just fine. Communal bathing ‎had its features, but it could get noisy and crowded at ‎times, and right now she wanted peace and quiet. She ‎invested a few pennies in a cake of sweet-smelling soap, ‎disrobed, and chose the hottest pool. ‎

As well as each being a different temperature, she ‎had discovered, the pools had their own gradients, hotter ‎near the inlet, slightly cooler at the other end where the ‎water flowed out again. Rozvin usually preferred to stay ‎at the cooler end, but today she made straight for the ‎hottest part of the pool, submerged herself up to her ‎neck, and wallowed. ‎

She was chilled right through, so much so that she ‎actually welcomed the sting of the heat against her skin ‎and the tingling pain in her fingers and toes as the ‎circulation re-established itself. Not until she began to ‎feel uncomfortably overheated did she retreat to the ‎cooler part of the pool and begin to make use of her cake ‎of soap.‎

‎Ah, so the person who said I’d find you here did ‎know what he was talking about, a voice said.‎

Rozvin, who had just surfaced from rinsing her hair, ‎blinked in surprise. ‎

‎Sparrow? she said, peering through the rising ‎steam.‎

A small, dark-skinned and dark-haired woman ‎approached the edge of the pool. ‎

‎It’s a miserable day out there, she said by way of ‎greeting. ‎

She was wrapped to the ears in a woollen cloak and ‎fur-lined hood, but even so, her face looked pinched ‎with cold. ‎

‎There’s an overcast coming in, and they’re saying it ‎won’t warm up much all day. I thought it was supposed ‎to be spring.‎

‎We’re having a cold snap, Rozvin informed her. ‎‎You should have come last week. It was beautiful ‎then.‎

‎At least it’s warmer in here than outside, Sparrow ‎said, emerging a little more from her wrappings.‎

Rozvin grinned. It’s even warmer in here. Come ‎join me.‎

Sparrow needed no further urging. In a matter of ‎moments, her clothes had been deposited in an ‎unceremonious heap on the floor and she was sliding ‎down into the water beside Rozvin. The two women, ‎one small and compact with black skin and hair and ‎green eyes, the other long-limbed and fair-skinned with ‎blue-grey eyes and copper-coloured hair, wallowed ‎companionably for a while, chatting desultorily about ‎nothing in particular, before Sparrow abruptly sat up.‎

‎Do you have soap? she asked.‎

Rozvin handed over her cake, and Sparrow began a ‎vigorous toilet. Instead of ducking under the water to ‎rinse herself off, she chose to splash water up over her ‎shoulders.‎

Rozvin laughed. You really do look like a sparrow!‎

Sparrow’s answer was to alter the direction of her ‎next splash.‎

‎Hey! Rozvin protested, shaking water out of her ‎eyes, and immediately launched a counter-offensive. ‎

Sparrow, of course, splashed back, and a moment ‎later a full-blown water fight was under way. It was ‎fairly short but definitely enthusiastic. Attendants ‎arrived to investigate the noise, then withdrew, grinning, ‎before they, too, were drenched.‎

‎It’s just as well we’re the only ones here, Sparrow ‎said, looking around when at last they wound down. I ‎wouldn’t want to shock anyone.‎

Rozvin laughed. They’d probably have joined in. ‎Most of them, anyway. Some of the priests can be a bit ‎stuffy, but then, they don’t usually bathe with us. They ‎have their own special time.‎

‎Do they? A bit elitist, isn’t it?‎

‎They’re afraid they might see a naked woman and ‎taint their purity; or something. Some of them even ‎disapprove of women in the Guard, though they don’t ‎seem to mind them as servants, I’ve noticed, Rozvin ‎said sourly.‎

Sparrow frowned. I thought all that nonsense about ‎not having anything to do with women was over and ‎done with. Didn’t some seer or other dream that Atrios ‎had abolished celibacy? ‎

‎Yes, but it hasn’t been ratified yet. They’re still ‎investigating. Rozvin pulled a wry face. They’re not ‎exactly hurrying, from what I’ve heard. Some of the ‎younger ones are awfully keen, of course, but for the ‎rest, I think the concept scares them silly.‎

Sparrow laughed. I suppose it is rather difficult to ‎change one’s concept of holiness. She looked at Rozvin. ‎‎It’s good to see you again, my sister.‎

‎It’s good to see you too, Rozvin said, embracing ‎the other woman warmly. But what are you doing here? ‎I thought you were back in your home village weaving ‎tapestries.‎

Sparrow sighed. I was. But I couldn’t settle. Too ‎much has happened to me, Rozvin. There’s a restlessness ‎in me that was never there before. The elders were ‎reluctant because there’s a shortage of good weavers, but ‎in the end, they realised it was no good, and they let me ‎go. I miss it, to be honest. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to ‎do it again, but not right now.‎

‎I would have happily learnt to weave, if it meant I ‎belonged, Rozvin said in a voice tinged with bitterness. ‎‎But they wouldn’t have me.‎

‎Of course they would. You’re a tribe member, and ‎any tribe member must be trained in the profession of ‎their choice.‎

Rozvin looked at Sparrow sadly. Don’t kid ‎yourself, my sister. Your tribesmen may be forced to ‎acknowledge me as an Eriathite and a tribe member, but ‎they’ll never accept me. They resent me, and they resent ‎you for adopting me, and not even your Ancestors can ‎change that.‎

Sparrow opened her mouth, closed it again, and ‎made a gesture of resignation with her hands. I’m sorry, ‎Rozvin.‎

Rozvin waved that aside. Not your fault.‎

‎I only wanted to help.‎

‎You did. You gave me a tribe, even if they don’t ‎want me, and a nationality. In fact, when you get right ‎down to it, it’s thanks to you that I have this job because ‎without a nationality I wouldn’t have been taken on. ‎You gave me a future, Sparrow, and you gave me your ‎friendship, and I really don’t think I’ll ever be able to ‎repay you.‎

There was an awkward silence for a moment before ‎Sparrow cleared her throat. ‎

‎And are you happy here? she asked.‎

Rozvin grinned. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I’ve ‎got a good job, with the best training there is, and my ‎prospects for advancement must be fairly good. After all, ‎not many of us are personally recommended by the High ‎Priest himself. I’ve even got a lover. Nothing super ‎serious, but we have fun together. She kicked her long ‎legs idly in the water. I can make a good life for myself ‎here, Sparrow. I feel as though I’m finally getting my life ‎sorted out. ‎

She firmly ignored the apprehensive knot that ‎tightened again in her belly as the spectre of those ‎shooting stars appeared in her mind.‎

‎I’m really pleased for you, Rozvin, Sparrow said.‎

‎Thanks, Rozvin said. But you still haven’t told ‎me what you’re doing here.‎

‎Actually, I’m on my way to Nebreth City.‎

‎Oh?‎

‎I’m serving a term as a guard for the missionaries.‎

‎From what I’ve heard, they need it.‎

Sparrow smiled. I suppose we can hardly expect the ‎New Elithimites to just stand by and watch us ‎undermine their religion. There have been some quite ‎serious attacks, and if anything, the situation is becoming ‎worse. That’s why the council of chiefs has decided to ‎send out more warriors to increase the guard on the ‎speakers.‎

Rozvin’s eyes narrowed. That suggests they must ‎be having an impact.‎

‎Oh, yes. We send only our best orators, of course, ‎and when they stand up there and tell people how ‎Elithim enslaved our people and destroyed them, they ‎make an impression. Elithim is losing followers.‎

‎And the missionaries aren’t intimidated by the ‎prospect of violence?‎

‎Not at all. Strange, isn’t it? Our people have spent ‎generations being ashamed of our history, and now here ‎we are competing for the right to risk life and limb to tell ‎the world about it.‎

‎Competing?‎

‎Mmhmm.‎

‎You mean literally?‎

‎Oh yes. They’ve instituted a new contest at the ‎festivals, a speaking contest, and the winners get to ‎become missionaries. And believe me, competition is ‎fierce.‎

‎Amazing.‎

‎Not really. We Eriathites can be pretty proud and ‎pigheaded, but now that we’ve learned to see this as a ‎way of thanking Maras for saving us, everyone wants to ‎be a part of it.‎

‎Even though it’s dangerous and from what you say, ‎getting more so?‎

‎Especially now. The danger convinces people that ‎what we’re doing is really important. Part of the story of ‎our downfall is about how the followers of Maras who ‎stood against the evil were persecuted for their pains, ‎remember. It’s bred a kind of masochistic streak into us, ‎so that serving Maras well is synonymous with ‎persecution. We tend to think that if we aren’t ‎persecuted we can’t be doing it right.‎

‎You don’t really mean that!‎

‎Actually, I do, you know. I don’t mean that we go ‎out of our way to be persecuted or anything, but we do ‎tend to have that sort of attitude to it. Persecution is a ‎sort of badge of honour.‎

‎Takes all kinds, I guess, Rozvin said, shaking her ‎head. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had about ‎enough of soaking. Let’s get dressed and continue this in ‎my room.‎

‎%%%%%‎

‎About time you dropped by. ‎

Cazovania, goddess of the earth and of fertility, ‎formerly known as the Earth Mother, looked up as her ‎daughter Warin, goddess of destiny, fortune, and ‎prophecy, entered the sacred grove where Cazovania ‎lived. I haven’t seen you for quite some time.‎

Cazovania waved a hand and a table appeared, laden ‎with a steaming teapot, cups, plates, and a plate of cakes.‎

‎I’ve been busy, Warin said.‎

‎Fooling with Ker, no doubt, Cazovania said, ‎curling her lip. When you ought to be getting on with ‎your work.‎

‎I’ve been working, Mother. I’ve just finished a ‎prophecy for Morv, and…‎

She trailed off as her mother fixed her with a look.‎

‎But you haven’t done a thing about Niari and ‎Keladryn yet. Don’t you think that’s getting a little bit ‎urgent?‎

Warin spread her hands helplessly. I’d love to be ‎doing something about it, Mother, but Uncle Atrios ‎absolutely refuses to let me proceed without him.‎

‎So?‎

‎He’s sulking, Warin said. He refuses to speak to ‎me.‎

Cazovania sighed. What is it this time?‎

‎There’s a servant of his, Tassatina, a sorceress. As ‎you know, we need a team to bridge the gap between ‎Niari and Carlitha and company being active and their ‎children being old enough to take over the working out ‎of the Plan. ‎

Warin scrubbed at her face with her hands. ‎

‎Tassatina was always meant to be one of that team, ‎but, as usual, it was up to me to formally ask Uncle for ‎her. You know how he always insists on that. I was quite ‎agreeably surprised when he agreed without his usual ‎performance. Normally, he does everything he can to ‎make me feel obliged and as though he’s doing us an ‎enormous favour, even though we all agreed to all this ‎centuries ago. Anyway, this time he was almost eager to ‎agree.‎

‎I think I see where this is going, Cazovania said in ‎a resigned voice.‎

Warin nodded. It turned out he’d hoped he could ‎trade Tassatina for Keladryn, which of course is totally ‎ridiculous. Not only do I not have the authority to strike ‎any such bargain, it’s actually no bargain at all. Tassi was ‎promised centuries ago, and her destiny’s been set for ‎almost as long, so all he’s doing is offering to give me ‎what I already have. But, when I pointed that out and ‎insisted that Keladryn still had to be the father of Niari’s ‎children, he threw a tantrum and stormed out, and he ‎hasn’t spoken to me since. Until he gets over it there’s ‎nothing I can do. You can just imagine the uproar if I ‎start work without him.‎

‎He is such a child! Cazovania said angrily. ‎‎Honestly, sometimes he makes me embarrassed to have ‎to claim him as my brother. I’ll talk to him.‎

‎He was pretty angry. He may not listen.‎

‎Oh, he’ll listen, Cazovania said in an ominous ‎voice. I can promise you that.‎

Warin grinned. Thank you, Mother.‎

‎Have you figured out how you’re going to go about ‎getting Keladryn and Niari together, yet? Cazovania ‎asked as she sipped her tea. There’s not much point in ‎my kicking Atrios into line if you’re not ready to go. ‎You know how he is. He’s as slippery as an eel, ‎especially when he doesn’t want to do something. Give ‎him the least excuse and you’ll lose him again.‎

‎Actually, there’s a situation come up just lately that ‎should be ideal, Warin said. Once Keladryn knows ‎about it, I doubt that anything would keep him out of ‎Nebreth.‎

‎I heard about that. How are you going to go about ‎it though? It would hardly be seemly for the High Priest ‎of Atrios to go rushing off to interfere in the internal ‎affairs of a foreign country without an extremely good ‎reason. Especially a country where Atrios doesn’t have a ‎large following. Your uncle would have a fit, and you’ve ‎got enough trouble with him already.‎

‎Keladryn doesn’t have to get involved publicly, or ‎even officially, Warin said. It could all be done very ‎quietly and discreetly.‎

‎And just how are you going to convince him to get ‎involved? No matter what his feelings in the matter, he’s ‎still the High Priest. The reputation of the church will be ‎his first concern.‎

‎Niari and Carlitha are living saints, don’t forget, so ‎their welfare is the legitimate concern of the church. It’s ‎very simple, Mother. All I need is a seer, and I know the ‎very man. He deserves a break. Besides, I may as well ‎start assembling the new team while I’m at it. ‎

Warin wrinkled her nose. ‎

‎He’s one of Uncle’s people though, and I’ll need ‎his permission to use him. Be very eloquent when you ‎talk to Uncle Atrios, Mother. I need him in a good ‎mood.‎

‎His mood will be completely immaterial, ‎Cazovania said airily. After all, this seer business is ‎about getting Keladryn and Niari together, isn’t it, and ‎he’ll be more than eager to do that by the time I’ve ‎finished with him.‎

‎Why Mother, what are you planning to do to him?‎

‎Never you mind. You just trot off and start ‎thinking of a way to thank me appropriately.‎

Warin stared at her mother.‎

‎Well, you didn’t expect me to go through the ‎agonies of dealing with one of Atrios’ moods for ‎nothing, did you? Now, off you go. I have work to do. ‎

‎CHAPTER TWO

‎ Is Shad still in Nebreth City? Rozvin asked ‎Sparrow as the two women hauled themselves out of the ‎bathing pool and began to dress.‎

‎Last I heard.‎

‎You’ll be looking forward to seeing him again, ‎then.‎

‎I suppose so.‎

‎What’s wrong, Sparrow? You don’t sound very ‎sure. I thought you and Shad were more or less ‎engaged?‎

‎More less than more these days, it seems.‎

‎Oh?‎

‎Shad… well, Shad is having difficulty coming to ‎terms with some of the things that happened when I was ‎with Jahugel.‎

Rozvin looked at her friend in perplexity. That was ‎hardly your choice, Sparrow. You were a slave. Shad ‎knows that.‎

Sparrow shrugged. He seems to think there must ‎have been something I could do. I think he sees it more ‎in terms of an orgy than of rape.‎

‎And you as more a whore than a victim, Rozvin ‎finished for her, her voice heavy with disgust. Oh ‎for… she threw her hands in the air. And here I ‎thought he was reasonably intelligent!‎

The two women finished dressing and began to walk ‎back to Rozvin’s barracks. ‎

‎Would you like me to talk to him? Rozvin asked ‎after several moments of silence. I can tell him what it ‎was like. I was there, after all.‎

‎Thank you for the offer, my sister, Sparrow said ‎with grave dignity. But there’s more to it than just what ‎happened to me. There’s another woman. Irhanai’s ‎daughter, Miriala. Shad hasn’t said it in so many words, ‎but I sense that he’s interested in her.‎

‎Have you ever met her?‎

‎No.‎

‎Neither have I, but if she’s anything like her ‎mother, she’ll be gorgeous.‎

‎Thanks for the encouragement.‎

‎Sorry, Sparrow. I was sort of thinking aloud. I still ‎think it might be worthwhile for me to have a word with ‎Shad. I mean, if he’s really fallen in love with Miriala, I ‎guess that’s just one of those things, but if he’s only ‎interested in her because he’s blaming you for something ‎that isn’t your fault, well…‎

‎It’s not necessary, Rozvin. To be honest I’m not ‎even sure how I feel any longer. It’s as I said before, too ‎much has happened to me.‎

‎Yeah, including being betrayed by the man who’s ‎supposed to love you, Rozvin snorted. I wish he was ‎here. I’d give him a piece of my mind. ‎

She led the way into the barracks building. ‎

‎Are you hungry? Breakfast will still be being ‎served.‎

‎Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think so. I’ve had ‎experience of mess hall breakfasts before.‎

Rozvin grinned. So have I. But, believe it or not, ‎the food’s really good here. The Temple Guard believes ‎that well-fed soldiers are happy soldiers and that that ‎cuts down on misbehaviour.‎

‎Does it work?‎

‎It seems to. There are very few discipline problems ‎in the Guard. Although, that may have to do with the ‎fact that it’s an elite force and not just anyone can join, ‎of course. But anyway, I can personally recommend the ‎food here. What do you say?‎

‎In that case, lead the way.‎

Rozvin grinned and did just that.‎

‎You weren’t kidding, were you? Sparrow said ‎when they both had filled plates in front of them. ‎

She sniffed appreciatively and then took an ‎experimental bite. ‎

‎This is delicious.‎

‎Told you, Rozvin said. So, how long are you in ‎Atriosa? ‎

‎Only a couple of days.‎

‎Pity. I’ve only got three more days of night watch, ‎and then four days of leave. If you could stay a bit ‎longer, we could have a proper visit.‎

‎I have obligations, my sister, Sparrow said ‎regretfully. I’m sorry. ‎

She hesitated, looking at her friend.‎

‎What? Rozvin said.‎

‎I want you to come with me to Nebreth City.‎

‎What?‎

Sparrow leant forward earnestly. The Ancestors ‎have given me a glimpse of the future, Rozvin. We’re ‎needed in Nebreth City.‎

‎I can’t just drop everything and dash off to Nebreth ‎City, Sparrow. Be serious. I’d never get leave, for one ‎thing. It just can’t be done.‎

‎And yet, my vision does not lie, my sister, ‎Sparrow said with quiet insistence. You will go to ‎Nebreth City. We both will. It is the will of the ‎Ancestors.‎

Rozvin felt exactly as though she’d just been kicked ‎in the guts. She caught her breath sharply, and it was ‎several seconds before she could regulate her breathing ‎again. She stared at her sister as all the fears of the night ‎and its omens suddenly crystallised. Was this what it ‎meant, that she was going to have to give up the life she ‎was building here to go chasing across the country on the ‎gods only knew what mad quest with Sparrow? ‎

No! It wasn’t fair! This job was the opportunity of a ‎lifetime. She would never have this chance again. She’d ‎already had to give up everything once. She wasn’t ‎going to go through that again; not for anybody. When ‎she spoke, there was a new hardness in her voice. ‎

‎You mentioned obligations a moment ago, Sparrow. ‎Well, I have a few of those myself. I have a job to do, ‎and that job is here. My prospects are good, I like the ‎people, the pay isn’t bad. I’m building a life here in ‎Atriosa; a life with a future and a fair chance at ‎happiness, and I am not about to throw it all away by ‎walking out on my job and trotting off to Nebreth City ‎with you. You have no right to expect me to, no matter ‎what I owe you.‎

‎Yet the Ancestors do not lie, Sparrow said softly. ‎‎And, though my people may not accept you, my ‎Ancestors do. As far as they are concerned, you are as ‎much a tribe member as if you were born one, and they ‎may command you as they would any other of their ‎descendants. You will go to Nebreth City, my sister. It is ‎your destiny.‎

Rozvin stared at Sparrow for long moments, almost ‎overcome by a sensation very close to despair. Finally, ‎she pushed her half-finished breakfast away and stood ‎up. ‎

‎I’ve been up all night, she said shortly. I have to ‎get some sleep. ‎

She stalked out of the dining room, leaving her ‎adopted sister to stare after her.‎

Rozvin ran up two flights of stairs and reached her ‎room out of breath. So upset was she that her hands were ‎shaking and she dropped the key twice before she could ‎get it in the lock. She wrenched the door open, swung ‎through, and slammed it behind her, leaning back against ‎the wood as she gulped great lungsful of air. ‎

Damn Sparrow and the Ancestors to hell! She’d ‎known those shooting stars meant trouble. The Temple ‎Guard was an elite unit. Members were handpicked. ‎Belonging brought honour and prestige, not to mention ‎excellent pay and privileges, but the Guard expected a ‎commitment in return. One’s loyalty was expected to be ‎first to the Guard and then to one’s comrades. ‎

She was only just through her probationary period, ‎just beginning to be trusted with some real responsibility. ‎To quit now, even to ask for leave so she could go to ‎Nebreth City with Sparrow, would spell the end of her ‎career. She’d seen it happen to others. She would be ‎forever branded as feckless and unreliable. They couldn’t ‎do this to her! She loved her job. They couldn’t expect ‎her to give up her whole life!‎

She locked the door and crossed to the fireplace. The ‎fire had burned down to almost nothing, and she got it ‎going again before sitting down at the table and pouring ‎herself a cup of wine. She downed two glasses while she ‎played out in her mind a very satisfying little scenario ‎where she told Sparrow and her precious Ancestors to ‎get lost in no uncertain terms and simply forgot the ‎whole thing. ‎

But even as she imagined it, she knew she could ‎never do it. She loved Sparrow like a sister, and though ‎she felt the whole thing was screamingly unjust, there ‎was no denying that she did, in fact, owe both her ‎adopted sister and the Eriathite Ancestors an enormous ‎debt. They’d given her a tribe, a people, a home when ‎she’d been at rock bottom, an outcast, a fugitive with no ‎future, nowhere to belong. ‎

If not for them she might now be an outlaw, a ‎beggar, a prostitute. That’s if she was still alive. When ‎she got right down to it, she supposed she owed them ‎everything, right down to her miserable, ungrateful ‎existence. She just wished they wouldn’t demand ‎everything in return. Feeling horribly depressed, Rozvin ‎stripped off her uniform, crawled between her blankets ‎and, in most unsoldierly fashion, cried herself to sleep.‎

‎%%%%%‎

The Duke and Duchess of Onnian were finishing ‎lunch when there arose a great commotion outside the ‎house.‎

‎What’s all the noise, Suli? the Duchess demanded ‎of the girl who was approaching the table with a new ‎pitcher of milk.‎

The serving maid obediently went to the window ‎that overlooked the main courtyard. A moment later the ‎pitcher of milk shattered against the flagged floor. Suli ‎toyed briefly with the idea of fainting before rejecting it ‎in favour of bolting from the room, screaming at the top ‎of her lungs. Boladan ran to the window to peer out in ‎his turn.‎

‎Well? his wife demanded impatiently. What is it? ‎What’s happening?‎

‎It’s your sister. Niari.‎

Carlitha’s eyebrows rose. I know Niari can be a bit ‎odd, but she’s never frightened the servants before. ‎What’s she done, dyed her hair purple and ridden in ‎stark naked?‎

‎No, Boladan said in a carefully controlled voice. ‎‎Her hair’s the same as always. And she hasn’t ridden in. ‎She flew in on a dragon.‎

‎What?‎

‎She just landed in the courtyard on a dragon. Come ‎and see for yourself.‎

‎What do you think I’m trying to do? Carlitha ‎grumbled, trying to disentangle herself from the ‎tablecloth and organise her sticks.‎

Carlitha, sister to the King of Nebreth, sorceress, ‎servant of the gods, companion of the One, and lately ‎wife of Boladan, Duke of Onnian, her favourite role so ‎far, required the aid of two sticks to walk any distance. ‎Her husband leapt forward to help her organise them. ‎But the two had no sooner reached the window than ‎Niari burst in through the door.‎

‎Where are all the servants? Niari frowned, looking ‎about. I didn’t see anyone when I came in.‎

‎That’s because they were all running for their lives, ‎Carlitha informed her sister.‎

‎What?‎

‎The dragon.‎

‎Oh. Niari grinned a little self-consciously.‎

‎What in the name of all the gods are you doing ‎riding a dragon anyway? Carlitha demanded.‎

‎I needed to get here fast, so I begged a favour. ‎We’ve got trouble.‎

‎We noticed, Carlitha said. You just scared half ‎our staff away. Do you know how hard it is to get ‎servants around here?‎

‎Never mind about your servants. I need your help. ‎Tassi’s in trouble. Serious trouble.‎

Tassi – Baroness Tassatina – was Niari’s fifteen-year-‎old adopted daughter and a sorceress like Niari and ‎Carlitha.‎

‎Oh dear, Carlitha said. Well, don’t worry, we can ‎work something out. What’s the boy’s name?‎

‎Not that kind of trouble. I only wish it was that ‎simple.‎

‎This is beginning to sound serious, Boladan said, ‎ushering his sister-in-law to a chair and crossing to the ‎sideboard to pour wine for them all.‎

‎Isn’t that what I’ve just been trying to tell you? ‎Niari cried.‎

‎Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us the ‎whole story? Boladan said sensibly.‎

Unaccountably, Niari began to tremble.‎

‎Here, Boladan said, pressing a glass of wine into ‎her hand. This’ll help to steady you.‎

‎Thanks, Niari said with a diffident smile. I’m ‎sorry I’m acting like an idiot. I just don’t know what to ‎do.‎

‎Well then, Boladan said comfortably, why not do ‎as I suggested and drink your wine and then tell us ‎what’s on your mind?‎

Thus