into the kindly face of Hierarch Taddeus.
“Come! This is no place for you or Lady Olga. Lord Serge has mages enough on his side. Let us get you to safety,” he said and gently drew her along the street to the cathedral.
Olga went to sleep, wrapped up in her cloak on a bench in the chapter house, her head on Jindabyne’s knee.
“How has this happened?” wondered Jindabyne, listening to the sounds of shouting and explosions coming from the fortress. “Serge sent a note warning me to be ready to flee. He must have known something.”
“He did,” said Taddeus. “I discovered something strange about Duke Wolf’s death and warned him.”
Lev had insisted that his own servants lay out the bodies of those killed in the hunting party and Taddeus, all unsuspecting, had agreed. But one of the reasons Hierarch Taddeus was so well beloved in Lamartaine was that he allowed the Seaganis to practice their old religion in tandem with the new worship of Mir that he taught. When the Seagani grandmother of two of the huntsmen wanted to pray over her grandsons and anoint their bodies with the Holy Oil of Nezrhus, the earth goddess, he had allowed her to come secretly into the cathedral with a priestess and conduct her ritual. It was these two women who first noticed the rope marks round the wrists of the two huntsmen and brought Taddeus attention to the fact that both bodies showed no marks of violence except for the sword thrusts that had killed them. Strange that both men had been killed with sword thrusts, they told Taddeus, when the Mori preferred to kill with bow and arrow.
Alarmed, Taddeus sent an acolyte to distract the guards watching over the Duke’s body and when they had gone, he and the priestess examined the Duke and the rest of the dead. None had arrow wounds and most bore the signs of having been tied up.
“At this point I sent secretly for Lord Serge and told him what had been found. We decided to get you and Olga away from here until he had sorted out what had happened. We suspected Lord Lev, but we did not think he would strike so soon. I don’t know if he found out that we knew or if he had planned this all along...” Taddeus shook his head. “Godless wretch. He could not even let his brother be peacefully buried. He must have been the one who had him...” he looked nervously at Jindabyne.
“Assassinated!” said Jindabyne firmly. “At least Serge has given Lev pause by wounding him so grievously.”
“You do not think that he has killed him.”
“Unlikely. Such is the instinct for survival that, in moments of extremity, a mage automatically throws all his magic into saving himself. But he will be too weak to use magic now and with any luck his followers will be cast into confusion.” Jindabyne looked nervously at Olga, not wanting to let her out of her sight. “Perhaps I should go and aid Serge.”
“No! Serge has mages with him and if he is defeated you will need to get Olga away from here. Lord Lev is a mage and cannot rule by himself. But he can still rule on Olga’s behalf.”
“But...” Even as she spoke Jindabyne wondered what she could do. From what she had heard of other Tari they could send whole armies to sleep with a wave of their hand but she no longer had that level of power.
“Holiness, men are coming,” cried an acolyte, running into the chapter house.
Jindabyne scooped Olga up into her arms, but the group of thirty or so men who came trooping into the house had Serge at their head. They had been defeated and were seeking sanctuary.
“They were so prepared,” said Serge. “They seemed to be everywhere.”
One of the healers, who had gathered to help the wounded, came to Serge but he waved him away. Serge’s face was spattered with blood but it did not seem to be his own.
“He must have been planning this for a long time,” said Taddeus.
Cold horror gripped Jindabyne’s heart.
“I should have seen it earlier,” said Serge.
“My lord we must decide quickly what to do,” urged Alain.
“We have to leave the town,” said Serge. “Guilius Appius has said his mages will set it alight if the townsfolk do not hand us over by dawn.”
“And some would do it too, the filthy curs,” muttered Alain. “But most are behind you, Serge.”
“I cannot let the town be burned for my sake,” said Serge. “And I think you and Olga will be safer away from here, Lady. Some of the men have gone to gather horses. As soon as they return we will go north. Lord Petrus of Palffy will surely aid us. I think withdrawing to marshal our forces is the wisest plan at this point.”
So it was that shortly before dawn, forty men rode out of Lamartaine with Serge at their head and Jindabyne and Olga at their centre, and took the road north-east toward the border estates of Lord Petrus.
Chapter 4
Jindabyne & Alyx
Around mid-morning the party stopped at a small farmstead to rest and water the horses. While Serge talked with his followers, Jindabyne left Olga in the care of the farm-wife and walked up a nearby hill, where hawks circled in the sky above. She called one close and it swooped down to her outstretched hand. Putting her hand on her forehead, she squeezed her eyes shut and sent her spirit into the hawk’s mind asking to see through its eyes. When the sharp creature sped upward again, it bore Jindabyne’s spirit within. High in the sky, savouring the speed and ease of the hawk’s flight, Jindabyne could see Lamartaine and make out several blackened roofs near the fortress walls. Otherwise, the city looked peaceful. To her relief there was no sign of a pursuing force.
Suddenly something cannoned into Jindabyne’s legs. Her spirit fell out of the hawk and plummeted to earth. The force of the fall toppled her over and she came back to herself sprawled in the grass, with Olga holding her tightly around the waist. Jindabyne opened her mouth to scold her for interrupting a mage, but then noticing that Olga was trembling, she held her tongue and hugged her instead.
Serge was standing nearby looking apologetic.
“She insisted on coming after you and when you didn’t answer her call, there was no holding her back.”
“I wanted you and you weren’t there,” cried Olga, her face muffled against Jindabyne’s neck. Jindabyne squeezed her tighter.
“I’m sorry she took you away from your counsels,” she said to Serge.
He shrugged. “We had finished all sensible talk. I have sent several men out to rouse those we think could be allies. I do not like to encourage racial tensions but most of our supporters will be Seagani Chiefs. Those Mirayans at the funeral who would have supported me were unconscious by the time my Uncle accused me - he may have poisoned them as he tried to poison us. And he had most of our own guards locked up. Everything so well planned.” He sighed.
“You could not have foreseen it,” said Jindabyne. “Your father trusted him after all.”
“He accused me of killing Father,” cried Serge. “I could not believe it. The things he said...” He flushed. “No matter what it takes, I will avenge my family’s death.”
Jindabyne squeezed his shoulder. “I do not doubt you and neither do the others.”
“We should get going. Is he following us?”
“There’s no sign of pursuit. I doubt he planned for you to injure him. It was a good shot.”
Serge grinned. “One thing I can do is fight. Father always says...”
He stopped, misery writ large on his face. Jindabyne saw that he was remembering that his father no longer said anything.
“Sweet life!” whispered Jindabyne softly. “How will we bear such a loss?” At that moment she felt the loss more for Serge than for herself. She squeezed his hand and said, “I know it seems a disaster now, but you will rise again.”
Flushing