There would be orders from the First Sister, too.
Garet was well aware that even though signed by Joyhinia Tenragan, the orders were no more from her than they had been when she was on the northern border, a babbling idiot who would sign anything put in front of her. These orders came from Squire Mathen, and if he couched them in a manner easily digestible to the Medalonians, they were no less the orders of his Karien masters.
He moved towards the desk and then froze as the feeling he was no longer alone in the room suddenly overwhelmed him.
“Garet.”
He started and turned at the voice. R'shiel stood close behind him. She looked much better than when he'd last seen her. He was glad to see her hair had grown out a little and now framed her face in dark red curls. But there was something else different about her: a confidence that he had not seen before. He wondered how she had escaped the Kariens, and why, having managed that remarkable feat, she had so foolishly returned to the Citadel. Standing behind her, wearing an air of lethal calm, was the Harshini half-breed, Brakandaran.
“R'shiel! Brak! How did the two of you... ? Never mind, I'd rather not know.”
He composed himself and walked around Lord Jenga's desk before he looked at them again. They were wearing the close fitting and supple Harshini leathers, which outlined their statuesque bodies, giving a hint of the natural grace and athletic ability that was part of their alien heritage.
“What are you doing here?”
“We have come to put things right,” R'shiel told him.
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“With your help.”
Her declaration did not surprise him. “I suppose you think I owe you something, for not supporting you at the Gathering?”
“You don't owe me anything, Garet. But as you said when you slipped me your knife, you can't help Medalon from a prison cell.”
“I'm not in a prison cell.”
“I used your knife to kill the Karien Crown Prince. I imagine a prison cell will be the least of your worries if the Kariens learn that.”
Garet was too experienced to let his apprehension show. “You killed the Karien Crown Prince? Founders, R'shiel, when you set out to cause trouble, you don't mess about, do you?”
A small smile flickered over her lips. “Wait until you hear the rest of it.”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I'd rather not...”
“No!” she cut in. “That is not an option any longer, Garet. You must decide. You are with us or against us. There is no more sitting on the fence.”
Garet sank down into the Lord Defender's chair - more to give himself time to think than through any real need to take the weight off his feet. He knew about R'shiel. Knew of her Harshini parentage and her status as their long awaited demon child, but until this moment it had never truly occurred to him that she might actually be as powerful as the pagans believed.
“And if I choose not to follow you?” he asked, wondering how determined she was.
“Then I will remove you from the equation.”
“You'd kill me?”
“I killed a Karien Prince. You don't think a mere Defender is going to cause me any grief?”
He placed his hands palm down on the desk and looked at her closely. Her whole being radiated a kind of leashed power, straining to be set free.
“So that's it? Join you or die?”
“Pretty much,” she agreed with a shrug.
“You leave me little choice.”
“Then your answer is yes?”
He nodded cautiously.
In two steps she was across the room. She slammed her hands down over his on the desk and glared at him. “Then swear it!”
Garet opened his mouth to say what she wanted to hear, but the words would not come. She was doing something to him, something that would not permit him to lie. With a sudden and terrifying flash of clarity, he knew that if he took this oath he would belong to her, body and soul, until he died, and perhaps even after, if one believed the pagans.
“Swear it, Garet,” she whispered. Her face was close to his, her eyes boring through him as though she could read every dark, unsavoury secret he kept hidden in the furthermost recesses of his mind. She wasn't using magic on him, her eyes had not turned black, but whatever it was, he found her impossible to deny.
“I'm yours, R'shiel.”
She studied him for a moment and then stood back. As soon as she released him, Garet slumped back in his chair, light-headed. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that when he opened them again, the room would have stopped spinning.
“Sorry, Garet, but I had to be sure.”
He looked up at her, wondering what he had done. It took a moment for him to recover enough to speak.
“So, now what?”
“First, we have to stop the Kariens from hanging Tarja,” Brak remarked, as if it was no more trouble than squashing a flea.
“You know they're blaming him for killing Cratyn, don't you?”
“Well, they can hardly admit the demon child did it. When is his trial?”
“Trial? What trial? The Kariens aren't big on the natural course of justice, Brak. Tarja's scheduled to be hanged next Restday. In the amphitheatre so everyone can come and watch.”
“Then we have to put a stop to it,” R'shiel declared. “Where's Jenga? Have they killed him too?”
“Not yet. Actually, they haven't interfered too much with the Defenders. Most of their people don't speak a word of Medalonian so they need us. There'd be a mutiny if they tried to kill the Lord Defender and they know it. He's under arrest. They're holding him in the cells behind the Headquarters Building, and it's the Kariens who are guarding him, not our people.”
“Then we have to release him, too.”
“How? Your last attempt at breaking somebody out of the Citadel was spectacularly unsuccessful, as I recall.”
R'shiel frowned at the reminder. “I intend to plan this a little better. If we're going to do something about the Kariens, the first thing we have to do is get rid of Joyhinia, and replace her with a First Sister who is on Medalon's side, rather than her own, then...”
“Who are you planning to put in power? Mahina's dead.”
“I know. I saw the head over the gate.”
“Whose idea was that?” Brak asked.
“The First Sister's.”
“Somehow that doesn't surprise me.” R'shiel's eyes hardened as she spoke, something he did not think was possible. Then she shook off whatever it was that caused such hatred to flare in her and shrugged. “I was thinking of Harith.”
Garet shrugged. Harith was not popular. But she was, of all the Quorum members, perhaps the one who cared most about Medalon.
“Assuming you manage that, then what?”
“I need to find the Harshini archives. And I'm going to kill Loclon.”
“Loclon? What's he got to do with this? Besides, he's listed as a deserter. Nobody has seen him since the night of the last Gathering.”
R'shiel pulled the wooden chair on the other side of the desk across the rug and sat down facing him. “Joyhinia didn't recover, Garet. The Karien priests simply borrowed another mind and put it in her body. That's not Joyhinia issuing the Kariens orders. It's Loclon.”
The whole idea was too bizarre for Garet to take in. “That's absurd... it's not possible...”
“Of course it's possible,” Brak said. “You're dealing with powers you refuse to acknowledge, Commandant, but that doesn't make them any less real. Or powerful.”
“Perhaps she simply recovered...”
“Tarja destroyed her wit. There is no way Joyhinia could have returned.”
“But Loclon? How did he... ?”