The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (31 page)

‘And your companion?’ continued Bahl after a pause. ‘And why is
he trying to kill one of my guards?’

Under that gaze, the small man bent his leg at the knee, keeping his stance for a moment before lowering his leg. He stepped back, adopting a rather less aggressive pose, but still impressively proud in the face of a white-eye almost two feet taller.

‘Ah, now there’s a man with a story,’ replied Chalat in heavily accented Farlan, his good humour undiminished. ‘Offer us food and drink and we’ll tell you all.’

‘And there you have it,’ declared Chalat, ending his story with a flourish. The enormous man sat back in his chair, hurriedly fetched from an upper chamber, and took a last bite at the leg of lamb in his hand,
then tossed it over his shoulder with a satisfied air. The bone slapped
on the wall behind, falling to the ground where a hound fell upon it. The sound of the dog’s teeth on the bone was the only thing to break
the silence as the small audience considered Chalat’s words.

The eight men sat around a circular meeting table in the chamber
at the base of the Tower of Semar. Bahl had limited the attendees to
his closest aides, Kerin, Lesarl and Lahk, but Isak had brought Vesna
with him - it would probably give rise to complaints by the other
nobles in the palace, but Bahl had pointedly ignored the count’s inclusion. Vesna had mentioned in passing a debt and some sort of assistance given to him by Lesarl. Clearly the count owed a favour, and
Bahl was happy for him to be attached to Isak.

As for Carel, Isak decided to have a long talk with the old man
before dragging him into the Land’s politics.

‘Mihn,’ Isak said suddenly. The Chetse’s companion intrigued him—
The man’s manner was so quiet and calm; it spoke of great confidence
in his own abilities. ‘Lord Chalat said you were from the clans on the
north coast.’ Mihn inclined his head.

‘In that case, how is it you speak Farlan so well?’ Isak was determined to get more than a nod from the man. There was something
about Mihn’s speech that nagged, something Isak couldn’t quite place
yet.

‘All the clans speak Farlan,’ Mihn said, almost doubling the number
of words he’d uttered since his arrival.

‘But why? You must be too far away to have any contact with us.
‘Farlan is the root of our language, and with the Great Forest a week’s ride away we have to keep close ties to the other clans,’ the
man said.

‘All the Land’s languages come from the same source,’ interjected Lesarl contemplatively. ‘Since Mihn speaks Chetse too, I’m sure we
would not be surprised at how quickly he could pick up others.’

Mihn’s face was full of suspicion; the Chief Steward was watching him carefully, scarcely even blinking. Isak knew Lesarl was distrustful of everyone, but this time he agreed - and suddenly he knew the
answer…but it gave rise to yet more questions.

Perhaps the nobles hadn’t noticed, but even after six months, Isak
still found their words overly pronounced: Mihn spoke like a noble
man. His cadences and rounded syllables were too cultured for any
barbarian clansman. He certainly wasn’t Farlan, but he was more than
he let on.

‘My Lord,’ said Kerin, breaking the thoughtful silence hanging over the table, ‘this daemon-arrow sounds like powerful necromancy to me
- but Malich must surely have been dead too long to set this in motion. I was under the impression that Malich’s skill was an extremely
rare thing. So that makes me think this was done by an acolyte, or
he’s returned from the grave somehow.’

‘I would be surprised if he had,’ Bahl said. ‘Denying death is more
difficult than animating corpses or incarnating daemons. From what I
know of raising the dead, I think we disposed of the body well enough
for that to be an option.’ There was a hint of a smile on his face. Isak
remembered the sight of Genedel gulping down corpses on the battlefield and shared the old Lord’s smile.

‘Well then, either way we have a problem,’ continued Vesna. ‘Either Malich had an acolyte strong enough to cast this himself, which
surely we’d have realised, or-‘

‘Or this has nothing to do with him,’ finished Kerin. ‘
I agree.’ General Lahk looked extremely uncomfortable as all eyes turned towards him. He kept his distance from Isak and Bahl whenever possible. Sharing a room with three white-eyes, each vastly stronger than he, was not a comfortable situation.

‘This weakens your army considerably, Lord Chalat. Charr is still young for a Krann, and from what we hear, lacking much intelligence at
best of times. That’s how the elf was able to draw him out in the first place. I doubt a possessing daemon would have any more understanding of how to lead an army.’

‘Siblis?’ barked Chalat. Isak felt a wave of anger radiate out from
the Chetse Lord as he spoke the word,
‘We know they have sent parties north to search for weapons. Perhaps they found allies instead. The elves could have created the weapon they needed. To kill you, Lord Chalat, would have been incredibly difficult, and hardly enough to win the war, since your generals are still there. But to control the commander and direct the war from both sides…’ The general’s voice trailed off, leaving the
conclusions to be imagined.

Chalat clenched his fist furiously, the slabs of muscle in his arms
showing a tracery of angry veins. By contrast, Bahl, resting his elbows
on the table, was vaguely glum, lost in thought.

‘Your point is a good one, Lahk,’ Bahl said after a grim pause. ‘I can
not think of a more likely reason. It makes me wonder what else the
Siblis might have bargained for, and what price was asked in return.’

‘Well, such things are beyond me. Charms, curses, enchantments,
bugger them all. That’s not how I’ve fought my wars,’ Chalat growled
loudly.

‘But it seems you need a change of tactics.’ Lesarl ignored the scowl
he received. ‘I know the man you should speak to.’

‘Well, who is he?’ snapped Chalat. ‘Where is he? At your College
of Magic?’

Lesarl smiled briefly. ‘Unfortunately not, though I’m sure the Archmage will be more than willing to help you in whatever way he can - if you can manage to look less like a white-eye, because he
rather despises your kind.’

Isak expected a bellow at that, but Chalat merely smiled. The
white-eyes who reigned for a long time were obviously the ones who
could control themselves.

‘The true expert is rather closer to his subject matter. Invriss Fordal
has been the authority on elven magic for decades now. I’m afraid he is considered rather eccentric, being one of the few who actually en
gages in expeditions into the Great Forest, but he is certainly the man
to assist you. I’m sure the Duke of Lomin will be delighted to have you as his guest for as long as necessary.’

‘Lomin. So if I were to grow bored and need something to kill-‘

Then the Forest is sufficiently close, and I hear the Festival of
Swords has been rather a dull event of late.’

‘Hah. Still, I hear the Duke is a good man, at least-‘

‘Ah.’ Lesarl’s smile didn’t waver for a moment. There I’m afraid we have bad news.’

Chalat snorted, he knew Lesarl’s reputation as well as any Farlan.
Turning to Bahl he found only a smile. The Chetse Lord threw up his
hands in amused exasperation.

‘Very well, no doubt you’ll have a favour to ask of me, something small, very little effort… Just don’t blame me if I end up giving the
new duke a sound thrashing. I get bad-tempered when it’s raining, and
it always bloody rains here.’

Lesarl was unable to prevent a look of delight spreading across his
face. ‘Lord Chalat, I’m sure it would not even be mentioned.’

Bahl rose. ‘Lesarl, arrange quarters for Lord Chalat; I’m sure Tirah
can provide some entertainment for him so see to whatever he wishes. Isak, you have your own preparations to make. Take as many guardsmen as you need to carry your maid’s wardrobe. Lesarl tells me that new chargers will arrive within the week. Until then I believe Kerin
has some plans for you.’

The room rose as one, Mihn placing himself in Chalat’s shadow
as the Lord was led off. Chalat saw him do so and stopped suddenly, turning sharply to Bahl once again. ‘I do have a request, Lord Bahl.’

Bahl raised an eyebrow.

‘Mihn has some strange sense of honour; he insisted on becoming
my bondsman. I’m too old for some pious shit trailing me around, but as your guards can testify, it would be a waste just to kill him.’

‘What is the bond for? Luring Charr out?’ Bahl glanced towards Isak. From what he had seen in the tunnel, Bahl had not expected
Mihn to be the quiet unassuming figure he’d appeared as so far. What
had been clear was that Mihn carried himself with enormous grace,
even more so than Count Vesna who’d been trained as a duellist since he could hold a weapon.

‘Exactly - not as if I liked the bastard anyway. But Mihn doesn’t
think my opinion is important. I do know that he’s got some future to
play out, though, and that it’s not with me.’

‘Well, we can hardly have a guest inconvenienced. I suggest the
bond be transferred to my Krann.’ He turned to Mihn. ‘Your language
skills could be valuable on his journey.’

He paused to allow the man to speak, but Mihn merely bowed
his head in acceptance. He hardly seemed to care, which made Bahl
curious. He’d have to ask Isak to learn what he could of Mihn’s story
before they went - only then did it occur to him to ask Isak whether he objected, but a look over the table brought a shrug of acceptance. Isak was about to speak to his new bondsman when Kerin appeared at his side. Rubbing his hands together in affected anticipation, the Swordmaster clapped them down on Isak’s huge shoulders.

‘Right, my Lord Krann, I have a new training regime for you. You’ll
be glad to hear I’ve had a pipe filled with lead for your sword, and a suit of armour commissioned specially for you. You’re going to love
it.’

Isak groaned and sank back down into his chair. Kerin laughed and gave the chair leg an ineffectual kick. ‘Come on, boy, I’m your Lord for the next week, so jump to it.’

A bright blanket of cloud hung over the city, somewhat lessening winter’s sharp touch on the still air. Isak could hear the city beyond
the walls as people took advantage of a lull in the bitter weather. Cov
ered bridges and walkways kept the city alive in the depth of winter. Though there was little fresh food to be found on the stalls, the cold
stores beneath the city meant the handful of enclosed markets still did
a brisk trade. The crisp afternoon light would not last long and then the city would return to hibernation.

Isak, sprawled on the stone stair, let his practice blade clatter on to the bottom step and stared longingly over at Eolis. The weapon
hung in its scabbard from a post nearby. Isak knew he was safe, but he
just couldn’t shake the need to have the sword at hand. His feelings
were rather more ambiguous about his armour, left under guard in the
Duke’s Chapel. Siulents reeked of the last king, both his sorcery and his mind, and since the battle Isak had never quite been comfortable
in it. Eolis was different: the sword was an extension of his body, the
edge to his anger more than its instrument.

As the Krann sat panting, a group of guardsmen nursed their bruises
and laughed with Kerin. The Swordmaster leant on a blunt-tipped
spear and tugged a fleece around his shoulder. The rest, Ghosts in full
plate armour, removed their peaked steel helms as they also caught their breath. The winter air ached in their lungs, but it was worthwhile for the beating they’d given Isak. Most had fresh dents in their
armour, but Isak had definitely come off worst, and they’d all enjoyed
themselves immensely.

‘So, my Lord, you’re finally learning some balance,’ commented Vesna from the sidelines. The count had refrained from taking part, but
a pair of fencing blades dangled from his fingers for when Isak was
exhausted.

Vesna looked at Mihn, standing firmly between Eolis and the rest
of the world, who inclined his head in agreement. The small man had
interrupted the exercise twice to correct Isak’s movements. Vesna was
beginning to wonder what the others of Charr’s ‘bait’ had been like. Each correction had presented Isak with the best range of available
strokes - but as far as Vesna knew, Mihn had used no weapon but his
staff…

Before he could pursue the thought, Tila trotted down the stair,
giving Vesna a courteous nod before crouching next to Isak and quietly asking, ‘Did you hear what happened last night?’

‘You mean Count Vilan? A terrible shame that,’ Isak replied in a
lazy drawl, leaning back against the stone steps. His chest seemed to
heave up even further as his breastplate was pushed up by the angle of
the steps. Grunting slightly, Isak raised himself up and shifted it into
a more comfortable position.

‘How can you be so uncaring about it? A man died last night, on
these very steps.’

‘I know, but it was hardly surprising. He had been drinking heavily,
and these steps are icy even during the day now.’

Tila narrowed her eyes. ‘Is that all that happened then? You’re acting very strange; was this something of Lesarl’s doing? Oh Gods-‘

‘Hush,’ urged Isak. ‘This isn’t something to be gossiping about,
unless you want to help matters by encouraging the maids to gossip
about how much Vilan drank last night. Let’s just say this accident
was convenient, but there must be no talk that it was anything but
an accident.’

Tila’s eyes widened for a moment. This was as close as she’d ever
been to the blunt end of politics. Looking down at the steps she was
standing on, she pulled her cloak tight about her body and checked the
soldiers, but none were close enough to hear. ‘Do you know why?’

‘The count was a traitor,’ Isak replied simply. ‘A legacy of the
Malich affair.’

‘But then why not arrest him? There was no call to murder some
one, and to push him down these stairs? If he’d survived Vilan could
have had the man prosecuted for attempted murder - that would bring
the whole scandal down on to Lord Bahl.’

‘I know. That’s why I broke the bastard’s neck before he fell.’

Tila’s hand flew to her mouth. A tiny sound escaped her lips, the
careless way Isak had said it shocking her as much as the admission itself. Isak sat up, hurriedly reaching for her arm, but she slapped him
away. She swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to force the bile in her
throat back down. She held up her hand to stop the Krann
from speaking further.

‘Vesna,’ said Isak over his shoulder. ‘Take Tila in, explain to her.’

Revulsion flooded her face and Isak felt a sudden pang of guilt. The count nodded to Isak and took Tila gently by the elbow, but
she pushed Vesna away, muttering curtly that she could manage, and
turned her back on the pair of them. The door slammed behind her. Isak’s eyes stayed on the quivering oak for a moment and then he
looked up at Vesna. The count shook his head and turned back down
to the training field.

‘She’ll get over it - she’s a delicate girl, that’s all. Killing isn’t a way of life for her; even soldiers tend to have an opinion on murder.’

‘But- ‘

Vesna held up a hand and Isak let the sentence die unsaid. ‘You
two are close; she forgets, as I do, that you are a white-eye. It’s hard to
remember that you’re different, and hard not to judge. Give her time
to be angry, then I’ll go and speak to her. She’ll remember that she
loves you by this evening.’

‘Loves me?’ The remark caught Isak by surprise, but Vesna only
chuckled.

‘Of course, my Lord, but only as a brother. I suspect you love her
like a sister, you’ve just never known the feeling enough to give it a name. Certainly I hope - ‘ It was Vesna’s turn to flounder now,
blanching as he realised he could have been dangerously wrong. To
his intense relief, he hadn’t.

‘Don’t worry,’ Isak said, ‘I’ve seen you two together. It’s actually a
relief - one less concern in my life.’

‘One less concern?’ Vesna could not hide his incredulity, but Isak
merely smiled and wagged a finger in admonishment.

‘Now you’re forgetting I’m a white-eye again. Think about it, my
faithful bondsman: in less than a year my life has changed beyond recognition. The Gods only know how many people are actually
planning
to
kill
me, let alone those who would
like
to. Not even the greatest wizards
pretend to fully understand the gifts I’ve been given. I murdered a man last night for a cause I have only a vague grasp of, without seeing
actual proof. Trying to understand my feelings, or Tila’s, would just
…’
Clearly Vesna understood, so he left the sentence unfinished.

‘But are you not disappointed that-‘ Vesna looked up to the sky,
wondering how to phrase it without sounding condescending.

‘Perhaps a little, but lacking something I’ve never known? I don’t
think white-eyes are made for regrets. Anyway, enough of this. How are the preparations for our little jaunt to Narkang going?’

‘Well enough, though of course there’s been no time for the messenger to even get to King Emin. We’ll be off within the week, I
think. Two horses arrived this morning from Siul, fine beasts, both of
them, or so the stablemaster tells me - the best he’s seen in years, he
claims. We’ll go and see them once we’re finished here. I’ve picked
the escort, Tila’s chaperone has presented her requirements-‘

‘Chaperone?’

Vesna laughed. ‘Oh yes. You forget that Tila’s father is an important
man in the city. For her to travel to foreign parts in the company of
soldiers… well, her mother is less than impressed, but I’ve informed
Lady Introl that it is your specific command. I think she was mollified
somewhat when I mentioned that Tila would be your political advisor in
all negotiations with the Kingdom of Narkang and the Three Cities.’

‘But is the chaperone to ward off the attentions of the uncivilised
white-eye, or the notorious Count Vesna?’ Isak smiled and sat up,
tugging at the lead-coated armour with a slight groan. ‘So how many
are we going to be?’

‘Well, an escort of thirty soldiers and two rangers to scout for us,
you, me, Mihn, Lady Tila and the battle-axe who’s going to carry Tila’s
make-up, and Carel. Thirty-eight in total.’

Isak lifted the shoulder plates over his head and tossed them to the
ground. ‘That’s too many - we’ll be too slow.’

‘Our speed will be dictated by Tila’s chaperone and the availability
of riverships, not numbers. She’s the wrong side of forty summers, and
I doubt she’s much of a horsewoman.’

‘Then I’ll leave her behind,’ declared Isak. ‘She’ll ride well enough
when she sees us disappear over the horizon.’

‘My Lord, some day we really must teach you about diplomacy,
Vesna drawled, an amused smile on his lips.

Isak made a face. ‘Lesarl told me about it - don’t think I want to
associate with that sort of thing.’

‘Ah. Like “tact” and “manners”, is it?’

Isak beamed. ‘Exactly. Now, how long is it going to take us to get
to Narkang?’

Vesna sat down a few steps up from his Lord so they could speak on
the same level. Mihn came and stood at the foot of the stair, his body angled slightly towards the training ground, close enough to be part of
the conversation while still on silent guard. Mihn was obviously not
simple-minded, but he was certainly monosyllabic.

‘With luck, less than a month. There are several stages we’re planning to do by river - one will take us to Nerlos Fortress, on the border, another should cover much of the Tor Milist territory we’ll have to pass through, and I believe a third could take us much of the last stretch to Narkang itself - but only a few vessels are large
enough to carry so many horses, so we’ll have to throw money at the
captains.’

‘Less than a month?’ Isak was pleased. ‘Hardly any time at all - by
wagon it would take the best part of half a year, I guess. I’ve never
met anyone who’s done that route, but that’s one of the reasons we’re
going, I suppose. Lesarl is going to brief us on everything tonight, including the disputed lands we’ll have to travel through, but Bahl
thinks that my gifts will dissuade attack rather than encourage it.’

‘The Lord’s right. I doubt any of them have the numbers to trouble
us. The Ghosts have a fearsome reputation, and there’ll be little more
than brigands where we’re going. Alone, we’d see off double our
number of horsemen, more of foot soldiers; with your growing skills
and magic, I can’t see anyone putting enough men together to get
anywhere.’

They were interrupted by the door behind them slamming open
and the three men turned to see Carel making his way down the worn
steps. ‘Isak, there’s a seamstress looking for you,’ he called.

It looked like Carel had just come from seeing a tailor himself. He
wore a long elegant coat the colour of fresh grass, trimmed in sable,
with gold-chased ivory buttons. Only the white clay pipe in his hands harked back to former days, but even that was new.

‘What’s this?’ cried Vesna. ‘Don’t tell me we might get our master to look rather more like a nobleman of some substance?’ It was a source of constant amusement to the count that Isak had chosen to
dress like the hermit lord they served.

Isak made an obscene gesture as he replied, ‘I didn’t summon one,
what does she want?’

‘I believe she was summoned for you - by Tila, I assume.’ He pointed
with his pipe to the soldiers Isak had been training with. ‘She had
some maids with her, all carrying bundles; I think they’re uniforms for
your guards.’

‘Uniforms?’

‘Of course. We can’t have them in their usual colours when you
meet King Emin.’ As Carel spoke the door opened again and a flurry
of white linen burst through, talking rapidly before the door had even fully opened. The men backed off in the face of such bright and busy
determination.

‘My Lord Isak, at last I’ve found you. Now, these are not entirely
completed and we have the riding garments coming later, but I have
the armour drapes for your men. If you could ask them to form up here
I’ll start my measurements.’

Isak stood there bemused for a moment, staring down at the ruddy
face wrapped in a spotless white headscarf. The seamstress might
have been dressed like a servant, but she had the poise of a duchess. Despite Isak’s huge height, he found himself wilting under the sheer force of that impatient stare. Behind her stood five maids, each with
a wicker basket clasped tightly to their chest and eyes fixed firmly on
the woman at their head.