Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) by Christopher Mitchell (ebook reader for surface pro txt) 📕

‘I will do as you command,’ Silva said. She pulled herself to her feet and hurried across the room to the door. She opened it and left.

Belinda put her head in her hands, holding back her tears. Once Silva was far from the city, and out of the reach of the Ascendants, then she would find her and explain. Then, maybe, Silva would forgive her.

* * *

She took a long hot bath, trying to wash away the guilt she felt about sending Silva from Old Alea. Her great granddaughter had shown her nothing but loyalty, and Belinda knew the demigod would die for her if she commanded it. She waited an anxious hour or two, half expecting Arete to arrive at her rooms with Silva in tow, demanding to know what she was up to, but no one appeared. She dried herself, and dressed in the robes that Lady Joaz had left behind. She spotted her own set of worn fighting clothes in the wardrobe, and remembered that the front of her leather breastplate still had the hole in it made by Sable. She would need to get it repaired. Buried at the back of the wardrobe was the Weathervane, unused since arriving in Alea Tanton. She was surprised that Leksandr had let her keep it, but the Ascendants seemed to view physical combat as primitive and uncouth, something carried out by mere mortals, and had not objected to her holding on to the old sword.

Servants were tidying her quarters when she emerged from her bedroom. They bowed to her, their eyes lowered, and she ignored them. They were all spying for Arete and Leksandr, and she had determined that she was going to give them no excuse to tell tales about her to the Ascendants. A few of the servants glanced at her as she strode through the apartment. She nodded to one as she sat by a dresser, and the servant rushed over and began to pull a brush through Belinda’s hair. For a while, they had tried to make small talk with Belinda, but after days of her either refusing to answer, or giving nothing but monosyllabic responses, they had given up, and the servant brushed her hair in silence.

Belinda stared at her reflection as the tangles were drawn from her drying hair. The strange woman in the mirror glared back at her, unfriendly, and unapproachable. That was how she appeared to the servants also, and it didn’t bother her in the slightest. Better they thought her aloof and cold than a traitor to the Ascendants. Was that what she was, a traitor? A rebel? She didn’t know. Aside from saving Corthie, and a half-hearted attempt at warning Maddie and Blackrose, she had gone along with everything the Ascendants had asked of her. She had dutifully searched Khatanax for Kelsey, though that seemed fraudulent, as she was certain that the Holdfast girl could remain hidden forever if she wished. She remembered vision mages who had hunted for Karalyn after she had disappeared several years before. At the request of the Empress, they had scoured the Star Continent for the runaway dream mage, but it had been an impossible task. Again, when Kelsey had been abducted by Sable, several mages had searched for her, but without any success. The Ascendants didn’t seem to understand that the two Holdfast sisters could be in the Governor’s residence, and they wouldn’t be able to see them.

Amalia was a potential loose end. If she strayed more than a hundred yards from Kelsey, then her self-healing powers would become visible to Arete and Leksandr, and they would be drawn to her as the biting insects of Alea Tanton were drawn towards the flame of a candle. Aila too, for that matter, though if she and Kelsey were Amalia’s prisoners, then that seemed unlikely.

The Sextant was the other unknown. Belinda had concocted vague plans to sabotage the huge device to prevent the Ascendants from using it against the two hidden worlds, but no such effort had been necessary – the Ascendants were no closer to getting it to work than they had been in the cavern of Fordamere over a month before.

The servant took a step back and waited, her hands crossed by her waist.

Belinda glanced at her reflection, nodded and stood. The servants all bowed again, and Belinda walked from her rooms, entering the central stairwell that connected the levels of the western tower. She climbed the steps to the top floor, and knocked on the door to the outer hall of Leksandr’s quarters. A demigod courtier opened it and looked out.

‘The Blessed Sixth Ascendant is busy, your Grace,’ he said. ‘He is not to be disturbed by anything other than matters relating to the Sextant.’

‘The Sextant is why I’m here,’ said Belinda.

‘Very well, your Grace,’ the demigod said. He stepped to the side and opened the door fully to allow Belinda to enter. She glanced at the doors. One of them led to Renko’s old harem, where Sable had been interred for a few days, before she had killed Maisk, rejected Naxor and fled with Lady Felice’s Quadrant.

The courtier knocked on the door to the study, and entered. A moment later, he came back out and gestured for Belinda to go in. She strode through the door and saw Leksandr sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor in front of the Sextant, which was taking up half of the space in the room.

He glanced up at her, then signalled to the demigod courtier to fetch some wine and glasses.

‘Sit,’ he said to Belinda. ‘Here; next to me.’

She walked over to the carpet and sat down on Leksandr’s right. They waited as the courtier brought over a tray and laid it down on the floor in front of them.

‘That will be all,’ Leksandr said to him.

The courtier bowed low, then left the room, closing the door behind him. Leksandr filled two glasses with white wine and picked one up.

‘Have you