impression that once set on an idea, R’shiel was determined to make it happen. He had no idea what she was planning, and certainly no idea what his role would be.
“Lord Laetho used to say that you’ve more chance of making a Karien dance a heathen jig naked in the moonlight than you have of turning him from his God,” he offered helpfully.
“Maybe I should call on the God of Music, then,” R’shiel grumbled, obviously not pleased that things were not going according to plan.
“Do the Harshini have a God of Music?” he asked curiously.
“Gimlorie is the God of Music, Mikel, and he is as insubstantial and ephemeral as music itself. When I was in Sanctuary, the Harshini would call on him sometimes. His song is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. It touches men’s souls…”
Mikel stared at R’shiel as a slow, devious smile crept over her face. “Music of any kind is frowned upon in Karien, my Lady. It’s a sin,” Mikel added.
R’shiel looked down at him and smiled. “Not any more, it isn’t.”
She grabbed his hand suddenly and led him away from the direction of the infirmary tent, leaving him even more confused.
“My Lady?” he ventured, as he hurried along beside her through the organised chaos that was all that was left of the Defenders’ camp. It seemed as if most of it had vanished into the supply wagons while they were talking.
“You don’t have to keep calling me that, Mikel. My name is R’shiel.”
“It wouldn’t be proper, my Lady. Where are we going?”
“We’re going to summon the God of Music, Mikel.”
“Why?”
R’shiel looked down at him and smiled reassuringly. “He’s going to teach you how to sing.”
Mikel didn’t know whether to be frightened by R’shiel or not. She had never done him any harm; in fact she had virtually ignored him up until this morning, when she suddenly decided she needed him for some yet-to-be-revealed task. She was all but dragging him towards the tents where the Hythrun Raiders were accommodated.
“Almodavar!”
The savage-looking Hythrun turned at the sound of her voice.
“Divine One?”
“Please don’t call me that. Where is Mikel’s brother?”
“Young Jaymes? Down with the horses helping Nercher if he knows what’s good for him,” the captain replied. “Has he done something I should know about?”
“No. But I’d like to see him. Can you send him to me?”
The captain nodded and turned to give the order to fetch Jaymes. Mikel glanced at R’shiel curiously.
“What do you want with Jaymes, my Lady?”
“You’re going to learn a song, Mikel. Jaymes is going to be there to make sure you don’t get lost in it.”
“I see,” Mikel said, nodding sagely, although in truth he understood nothing at all.
CHAPTER 6
By early afternoon, the Defenders were ready to move out. That morning, the camp had been the size of a small town. Now there was nothing left but a large area of trampled grass to mark their passing. He knew they had been setting up and pulling down the camp each day while they travelled north from the Citadel. The late Lord Setenton enjoyed his creature comforts and would have it no other way, but in the two weeks they had spent camped on the plain they had settled in so comfortably, Damin found it hard to believe they could dismantle it all with such speed.
His own Raiders took less time to organise, but they were fewer and had been travelling much more lightly than the Defenders. Almodavar had had them ready to leave hours ago. What kept them here now were the Kariens.
His men formed a mounted ring around the captured knights, bows strung, arrows at the ready, waiting for one of them to break. Damin didn’t know why they were holding the Kariens here while the Defenders went on ahead, and a part of him was afraid to ask. He knew as well as anyone the dilemma theseprisoners posed. That the Defenders were leaving them behind did not augur well for their future.
Karien they might be, but Damin
“Lord Laetho used to say that you’ve more chance of making a Karien dance a heathen jig naked in the moonlight than you have of turning him from his God,” he offered helpfully.
“Maybe I should call on the God of Music, then,” R’shiel grumbled, obviously not pleased that things were not going according to plan.
“Do the Harshini have a God of Music?” he asked curiously.
“Gimlorie is the God of Music, Mikel, and he is as insubstantial and ephemeral as music itself. When I was in Sanctuary, the Harshini would call on him sometimes. His song is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. It touches men’s souls…”
Mikel stared at R’shiel as a slow, devious smile crept over her face. “Music of any kind is frowned upon in Karien, my Lady. It’s a sin,” Mikel added.
R’shiel looked down at him and smiled. “Not any more, it isn’t.”
She grabbed his hand suddenly and led him away from the direction of the infirmary tent, leaving him even more confused.
“My Lady?” he ventured, as he hurried along beside her through the organised chaos that was all that was left of the Defenders’ camp. It seemed as if most of it had vanished into the supply wagons while they were talking.
“You don’t have to keep calling me that, Mikel. My name is R’shiel.”
“It wouldn’t be proper, my Lady. Where are we going?”
“We’re going to summon the God of Music, Mikel.”
“Why?”
R’shiel looked down at him and smiled reassuringly. “He’s going to teach you how to sing.”
Mikel didn’t know whether to be frightened by R’shiel or not. She had never done him any harm; in fact she had virtually ignored him up until this morning, when she suddenly decided she needed him for some yet-to-be-revealed task. She was all but dragging him towards the tents where the Hythrun Raiders were accommodated.
“Almodavar!”
The savage-looking Hythrun turned at the sound of her voice.
“Divine One?”
“Please don’t call me that. Where is Mikel’s brother?”
“Young Jaymes? Down with the horses helping Nercher if he knows what’s good for him,” the captain replied. “Has he done something I should know about?”
“No. But I’d like to see him. Can you send him to me?”
The captain nodded and turned to give the order to fetch Jaymes. Mikel glanced at R’shiel curiously.
“What do you want with Jaymes, my Lady?”
“You’re going to learn a song, Mikel. Jaymes is going to be there to make sure you don’t get lost in it.”
“I see,” Mikel said, nodding sagely, although in truth he understood nothing at all.
CHAPTER 6
By early afternoon, the Defenders were ready to move out. That morning, the camp had been the size of a small town. Now there was nothing left but a large area of trampled grass to mark their passing. He knew they had been setting up and pulling down the camp each day while they travelled north from the Citadel. The late Lord Setenton enjoyed his creature comforts and would have it no other way, but in the two weeks they had spent camped on the plain they had settled in so comfortably, Damin found it hard to believe they could dismantle it all with such speed.
His own Raiders took less time to organise, but they were fewer and had been travelling much more lightly than the Defenders. Almodavar had had them ready to leave hours ago. What kept them here now were the Kariens.
His men formed a mounted ring around the captured knights, bows strung, arrows at the ready, waiting for one of them to break. Damin didn’t know why they were holding the Kariens here while the Defenders went on ahead, and a part of him was afraid to ask. He knew as well as anyone the dilemma theseprisoners posed. That the Defenders were leaving them behind did not augur well for their future.
Karien they might be, but Damin
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