13

       Dinner at the Tired Seagull

      Timozel sat wrapped in his own peculiar stillness, as if the others seated at the dining table did not exist.

      The visions came more often now, and far, far more vividly.

      He rode a great beast – not a horse, something different – that dipped and soared. He fought for a great Lord, and in the name of that Lord he commanded a mighty army which undulated for leagues in every direction. Hundreds of thousands screamed his name and hurried to fulfil his every wish.

      Before him another army, his pitiful enemy, lay quavering in terror. They could not counter his brilliance. Their commander lay abed, unable to summon the courage to meet Timozel in just combat.

      In the name of his Lord he would clear Achar of the invading filth.

      “Yes,” he mumbled, and Borneheld shot him an irritated glance.

      A great and glorious battle and the enemy’s positions were overrun – to the man (and others stranger that fought shoulder to shoulder with them) the enemy died. Timozel lost not one soldier.

      Another day, another battle. The enemy used foul magic, and Timozel’s forces were grievously hurt … but Timozel still won the field, and the enemy and their commander retreated before him.

      Another day. Timozel sat before the leaping fire with his Lord, Faraday at their side. All was well. Timozel had found the light and his destiny.

      His name would live in legend forever.

      All was well.

      The vision dimmed and Timozel heard Borneheld chastise Faraday yet again.

      “You are worthless to me!” Borneheld hissed. Faraday stiffened. Her husband’s words were clearly audible to all those seated at the table.

      “Worthless!” Borneheld said. “How many months have we been married? Four? Five? Your belly should be swollen with my son by now.”

      Faraday focused on a distant point of the room, refusing to let her cheeks stain red. The Mother had answered her prayers and continued to bless her with barrenness, and she was not going to force false promises past her lips. The line of Dukes of Ichtar would end in her empty womb.

      Her calm expression intensified Borneheld’s fury. “Your barrenness is not for want of trying on my part, Faraday,” he said, louder now. “Perhaps I should summon a physician to mix you a herbal.”

      To his left Gautier grinned, but Duke Roland, sitting on Faraday’s other side, looked extremely embarrassed.

      Faraday lowered her eyes to her plate of food, hoping her lack of responsiveness would lead to Borneheld tiring of the topic. Yr sat silently in a shadowy corner of the room and Faraday could feel her silent sympathy and support.

      If Faraday had managed previously to tolerate her marriage to Borneheld in Gorkenfort, now she could barely keep her distaste for the man safely hidden. She no longer sought to please or humour him in their bed, nor pretended to love him or desire his company.

      Borneheld now realised her feelings for Axis and suspected she had lied to him in Gorkenfort. Yet he could tolerate all of this – if only she provided him with an heir.

      And yet Faraday remained barren despite his most strenuous exertions. Borneheld had never been charming or courtly, but in Gorkenfort he’d made an effort to treat Faraday with respect. Now that he had been forced to abandon Gorkenfort and Ichtar, Borneheld slipped into almost perpetual surliness, not hesitating to humiliate Faraday in public. Something dark and sinister had taken root in his mind since the fall of Gorkenfort, and daily Faraday watched it grow.

      Borneheld abruptly turned aside and began to discuss with Gautier and Timozel the continuing efforts to construct a viable defence system around Jervois Landing.

      Faraday let her breath out in relief and looked about the room. Borneheld and the immediate members of his command had taken over the Tired Seagull, the very same inn that she, Yr and Timozel had stayed at on their way to Gorkenfort. The men who had escaped Gorkenfort with them were either quartered about the town, or camped in the massive tent city that had sprung up about Jervois Landing.

      Faraday caught the eye of the Ravensbund chief, Ho’Demi. She almost looked away, sure the man would be as embarrassed and uncomfortable as most others in the room, but Ho’Demi smiled at her warmly. There was nothing but sympathy and respect in his dark eyes. Faraday straightened her back a little, and Ho’Demi inclined his head in approval.

      Faraday had never had a chance to speak to the man, as Borneheld did his best to keep her sequestered from anyone save Yr and Timozel. But Ho’Demi had such a natural aristocratic bearing for one whose appearance was so savage and frightening that Faraday found him fascinating. Indeed, she was intrigued by the entire Ravensbund population camped about Jervois Landing. On the few occasions Borneheld had allowed her out of their quarters (with a suitable guard), Faraday had seen their multicoloured tents spreading for what seemed like leagues about the town, the air around them filled with the sound of the soft chimes which they threaded through their hair and the manes of their horses, and which hung from every available space in their tents. All of them were tattooed to some degree, the different designs denoting different tribal groups, but all of them, no matter their tribe, had that peculiarly naked circle in the centre of their foreheads where no line crossed.

      Little did Faraday know that Ho’Demi was equally interested in her. All Ravensbund people knew the Prophecy. They lived to serve both it and the StarMan, and Ho’Demi instinctively knew that this woman was one of those named in the Prophecy. But he could get near neither she nor her Sentinel maid, so closely watched were they by Borneheld’s men. One day. One day. Meantime, why did Borneheld humiliate one so obviously Prophecy-born? He did not understand it.

      Faraday turned her eyes away from Ho’Demi, lest her attention draw Borneheld’s suspicion on the man’s head, and saw Timozel watching her.

      There was no sympathy or support in his eyes at all. Over the past months Timozel had, tragically, become Borneheld’s man. Timozel was still her Champion, supposedly devoted to her welfare and interests, but he seemed to have decided that the best way he could serve Faraday’s interests was by serving her husband. Timozel admired and respected Borneheld, and Faraday found that very hard to understand.

      Timozel had not thought to share his visions with her as he had with her husband.

      Faraday averted her eyes. If she had known Timozel