Free The Tenth Power by Kate Constable

‘Bees of Timarel, I mean you no harm,’ she whispered. ‘You have been watching over something very precious. But it is time to surrender it. Please, trust me.’
    Behind her, from the Dwellings, came the sound of shrieks and running feet; the bells still jangled their alarm. ‘Fire! Fire! Where is Tamen?’
    ‘The kitchens are ablaze!’
    ‘The barns – ’
    Standing on tiptoe, heart thumping, Calwyn peered down into the hive. The honey-frames hung in a row, patched with honeycomb and crawling with worker bees. One flew up into her face, startling her, but she didn’t make a sound.There were bees in her hair, all over her hands, creeping up her arms and her face.
    ‘Bees of Timarel,’ murmured Calwyn.The bees were crawling all over her face, around her lips and nose. It was like the terrifying illusion that Samis had created, the night he came to Antaris, except that this was real – and this was not terrifying. These were her own bees. Marna had called them her friends, and suddenly she knew that it was true.Their murmuring hum was a song of welcome; she had nothing to fear.
    Calwyn plunged her hand carefully into the very heart of the bees’ citadel. The tips of her fingers brushed a silk- wrapped object, smeared with honey and wax. As she drew it out, the bees rose from her skin and formed a golden, singing halo that spun around her head.
    Calwyn held out the precious Wheel in both hands, and bowed to the hive. ‘Thank you, bees of Timarel. Thank you, queen and workers, for your vigilance.’
    Hardly daring to breathe, she unwrapped the faded silk from the small, heavy object in the palm of her hand.The silk itself was old and delicate, shimmering green and purple like a peacock’s feather. Calwyn pulled the cloth aside with trembling hands. She held a solid half-circle, a broken disc, made from dark, dense stone, its surface marked with faint, very ancient dents and scratches. One edge was jagged, where the Wheel had been snapped in two. Whole, it would have been the size of the circle of her thumbs and forefingers.
    Unconsciously Calwyn sank to her knees in the snow. Marna’s words came back to her: Broken…but it can be mended .
    Where was the other half ?
    Calwyn pressed the half-wheel between her hands, feeling its cold weight. Suddenly she became aware of a growing commotion from the buildings behind her. She thrust the half-wheel inside her tunic and set off up the slope.
    As she went, knowledge came to her, hard and clear and certain. Her task was not complete. She must find the other piece of the wheel; she must join the two halves together. It could be mended. That was the answer that would undo the evil that had befallen the world. Marna had said so.
    Calwyn ran toward the Dwellings.
    THE COURTYARD TEEMED with women, all bundled in winter cloaks. No one noticed Calwyn dart upstairs and hide herself behind a pillar where she could see everything below. A knot of priestesses clustered on the far side of the courtyard, and the rest of the sisters craned toward them. ‘Let me go!’ came Trout’s desperate cry. A confused murmur ran through the crowd of women.
    Calwyn scanned the courtyard. At last she glimpsed Mica peering from the shelter of a dark archway. Mica saw Calwyn, too; she stared up with a look that was half defiant, half pleading. She pulled aside her cloak to show that she had the Clarion ready. Emphatically, Calwyn shook her head. Mica’s mouth had set in a stubborn line and Calwyn thought that Mica would defy her. But then the younger girl let her cloak fall over the Clarion.
    ‘This boy is an Outlander!’ Tamen’s deep voice rang out. A space formed around her and Trout and the two strong sisters who held him pinned by the arms. ‘What shall we do with him?’
    There was a moment’s uncertain silence. At last someone hazarded, ‘Put him into theWall?’
    ‘No!’ rapped Tamen sternly. ‘We cannot sully the Wall with the body of an Outlander! We must take him to the