The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (38 page)

Isak nudged his horse to follow and Vesna dutifully fell in beside his Lord, moving closer when Isak learned over to whisper, The Seer?’

‘I’m not sure. A mage of some sort, I assume. That might account
for the town’s prosperity.’

Isak looked up as they approached the town walls. Vesna was right.
The walls might have been of wood, but they looked strong and well maintained. The councillor was dressed as a Tirah city official might;
he didn’t look like the wealthy tradesmen who populated most town
councils. As they passed through the gate, Isak and his party were watched by guards who betrayed little emotion: these were obviously disciplined men who trusted their leaders. They had no form of uniform or livery but they were clearly a strong and ordered unit.

Within the walls were tidy rows of wide, solid houses, well built
and well maintained, for all their lack of decoration. Isak concluded
that the security Ghorent offered had attracted men and women of
many different skills. There were too many curls of smoke rising from
squat chimneys to count: whoever had organised these people had a very tidy mind. If the Seer was the one running the council, he must
be a dour man of facts and figures, to keep this town so well-ordered,
Isak thought.

The houses this close to the wall were no more than two storeys
high, but Isak could see taller buildings further in. Councillor Horen
led them down the wide main street and past a tavern that looked like
it was doing good trade - until sight of the visitors stopped the noise
and bustle.

Toramin noticed the audience and picked up his feet a little more, showing off his well-muscled shoulders and flanks. Isak had no need
to make an effort to impress; he gave the beast a tap on the neck,
but Toramin responded by tossing his head haughtily and continuing
to prance. In Kasi’s dim light, Isak’s white-sleeved cape took on an
ethereal glow. The deep blue of his hood looked even more forbidding
to the onlookers. More than a few found that dark face disturbingly similar to the icons of Nartis in the temple. They all heard the mutters that sounded like prayers in the sudden quiet.

Once past the tavern, Isak smiled slightly at the voices behind. It
felt good to stir excitement in others. The wagon-brat had come a
long way: now his presence in town was an event - he would be remembered wherever he drank or spent a night. The innkeepers would
be able to say to customers, I’ll give you the best room in the inn, Lord Isak himself slept in it.’ More curiously, people would care that he had.

Up ahead, Isak saw that the road ended abruptly at a copse of trees
standing at the centre of the town, where he would have expected a
market square. The undergrowth had been cut back enough to allow
passage and the councillor and captain went straight on in without
pausing. Isak and Vesna exchanged glances. The trees were not densely
packed - there was no cover for an ambush - so they followed their guides into the gloomy thicket. Isak could make out carved stones, sitting upright in the ground. They formed no apparent pattern, but
were evenly spread - Isak could sense some echo there, a faint presence lingering in the copse. He guessed that this was dedicated ground,
probably a temple of sorts to an Aspect of Amavoq or Belarannar.

On the other side, no more than thirty yards away, they rejoined the street, now dominated by a large building, the smaller houses
looking almost as if they were keeping a respectful distance. By the
standards of Tirah’s wealthy the building was modest, but it was a
surprising sight in Ghorent.

The councillor stopped at the ornate door and turned to his charges.
‘My Lord, I leave you in the capable hands of Ahden, the Seer’s man.’
He gestured to the emerging figure, a tall, gaunt man who appeared from the bright interior. He padded down the stone steps, hands piously clasped together.

The manservant looked rather less impressed with the Krann than
the tavern folk had been. ‘Lord Isak, welcome to Ghorent.’ Ahden gave a small bow to the white-eye as he dismounted. ‘My master is
coming to greet you as I speak, but in the meantime might I offer you
and your men food and wine?’

Isak made a show of stretching his back and shaking the stiffness
from his broad shoulders. There was something about the staid figure
with his thinning hair scraped carefully over his head that Isak didn’t
take to. When at last he deigned to give Ahden his attention, he was
cut off by a voice from inside the house.

A second man burst through the door, gesticulating seemingly at
random while he gabbled on in a high reedy voice, ‘Lord Isak, at last
you’ve arrived. Come inside, your rooms have been prepared. My
grooms will see to the horses; we have much more important matters
to discuss. My study will be suitable.’

The white-eye found his arm determinedly grasped by the scrawny
hands of the man - presumably the Seer - who looked about to be
engulfed by his billowing linen shirt.

Isak shot a bemused look to his companions. Few people outside
his immediate circle of friends would dare touch the Krann, yet this
odd little man was trying to escort him away like a child. Isak raised a
hand to tell Mihn his presence was not required and allowed the Seer
to drag him inside. As the man struggled to hurry Isak up, he launched into a discussion on the quality of horses they bred in Ghorent, happily
providing both sides of the conversation.

The interior was markedly different to the houses in Tirah. Bright
swathes of colour adorned the walls and the high hallway was filled with
all sorts of wicker birdcages, hanging from the ceiling, from wall
brackets and mounted on beautifully ornate carved stands. Isak slowed
to marvel at the room and take a closer look at the nearest bird, a
delicate green creature the length of his finger, crested with the most
glorious golden plume.

As he neared it, the bird cocked its head towards him and sang out,
a rich liquid warble. The hallway erupted into a cacophony of song as
the other birds took their cue and Isak turned in a circle to watch the
sudden riot of noise and exotic colours. Tila, hearing the commotion, came after Isak and stopped dead, beaming with delight.

‘My chorus seems to have taken a shine to you, Lord Isak. They
rarely sing at night. They say the creatures of the forest have astound
ing abilities of perception - interesting that they do not seem afraid of you, a white-eye no less. When an Alyne cat crept in one night,
ah the chaos.’

‘You keep them all caged?’ asked Tila, seeing how small some of the
cages were.

‘Certainly not; they spend the day in the trees of the town. We’re
rather well known in these parts for our exotic birds. When the nights
are cold we tempt them into cages of an evening; the tamest do not
migrate at all now.’ The Seer gave an expansive smile. His manservant
glowered from the doorway as Vesna and Mistress Daran craned past
him to see better. No doubt Ahden was the one who had to clean the
cages.

‘Did you know that the King of Narkang has a similar passion? He’s
carefully cultivated his gardens to attract the migratory butterflies that
go up the coast from Mustet to summer around Narkang. I hear it’s
quite a sight - the dusted blue is apparently most beautiful.’ The Seer stopped abruptly and his brow furrowed. ‘But this won’t do, we must get on. Please excuse us, dear ladies, dear sirs. Ahden, bring up food
and wine to my study when you have served the Lord’s companions.
He took hold of Isak’s arm once more and led him up the wide
stairway to a corridor, at the end of which stood a pair of tall decorative doors. The polished wood was a creamy coffee shade, intricately
carved with a fantastical pattern of animals and trees, but Isak had no time to study the doors further as his host swept him on into the
room.

Piles of books and scrolls were spread across the floor, while jumble
brass instruments littered the many shelves, along with bits of pottery
and odd stones, all broken and stained with age and dirt. A large
open cabinet housed ancient-looking jewellery, and a few amulets and
charms. Isak could tell that they were of very modest magical strength
- he recalled the scornful way the mages from the College of Magic
had dismissed such things as ‘low magics’, suitable only for village
wisewomen or forest witches.

The Seer flopped into a chair, only to bound up again as he compared his to the other chair in the room and considered Isak’s bulk.

‘How is it I’ve not heard of you when you seem to rule this region?’
Isak blurted out as he took the seat offered and gingerly eased himself
into it.

The Seer smiled and sat opposite, suddenly calm. He bridged his
fingers as he gazed deep into Isak’s eyes. ‘I certainly do not claim to
rule anywhere; I merely offer advice - and only then when it is asked
of me. As for having heard of me, well, I’m afraid it has been fre
quently observed that the Farlan do not take much interest in foreign
politics unless conducted by a titled man. I would expect you have been told little more than that these lands are claimed by both Tor
Milist and Helrect, but possessed by neither.’

Isak nodded, not offended: he understood the friendly sarcasm.
The Farlan were one of the greatest powers in the Land, and they set
great store by their traditions and their strong feudal system. A man of noble birth had power and status; anyone who won power would
soon receive a title and thus become part of the system. Men such as
the Seer were simply not accommodated.

‘Let me begin very simply,’ the strange old man continued. ‘Historic
ally, this region has been either self-governing or conquered and under
the thumb of some neighbouring Lord. In the current climate it serves
the purpose of both Tor Milist and Helrect to not actually take the territory - first because they would find it no easy task, and second
because they would then share a border with long-standing enemies.’
‘Can we start with you?’ Isak interrupted. ‘I don’t even know your name
.’

‘Me? Ah, of course! Forgive my rudeness. My name is Fedei, Wisten
Fedei and folk here call me the Seer.’

Fedei smiled to avoid that sounding a theatrical boast, but Isak just nodded for him to continue.

‘I
am a scholar. My history is rather long and complicated, but in brief, I had a modest amount of magical ability and training as
a youth, as well as schooling in the more natural arts. Then, when I was
twenty-five or so, I started displaying the classic symptoms of
becoming a prophet-‘ he paused, waiting for Isak to interrupt, but
this time the white-eye just nodded.

‘That’s where you are supposed to say, “surely that’s impossible?’”
the Seer said dryly.

‘It is? Oh, right.’ Isak looked bemused.

Fedei chortled like an amused child. ‘Well, most people do. If you
had received any formal schooling in magic you would know that is impossible.’

‘Probably,’ Isak replied, haughtily. ‘Would my formal schooling
have been wrong about everything else too?’

‘I-No, not at all. In this case, the theory still bears up to scrutiny, but as many of us find; the reality of the Land is often very different. In
any case, as I’m sure you can tell from the lack of frothing and violence,
I’m not a prophet. Somehow it was controlled by my magic-‘
‘Wait a moment, what magic? I can’t feel anything.’
The Seer bobbed his head in acknowledgement of the objection. ‘My abilities were almost entirely stripped in the conflict. I can still
produce simple potions, and I can sense magic, but little more. What
I can do is gather insights as a prophet, though only regarding the
immediate future, and actually explain to others what I see. Think of it as having visions of impending events. They are not entirely clear, but your arrival, for example, was simple enough to understand. The
ripples of your passing are profound even for me.’

‘So can you do any fortune-telling for me?’ Isak hadn’t intended it
to sound sarcastic, but Fedei stiffened nonetheless.

His voice was frosty. ‘Perhaps later. For now, I would like to hear
about you.’

Isak nodded quickly, annoyed with himself for putting the Seer’s
back up when the man had been so welcoming. ‘Of course - though I doubt there is much you don’t know.’ ‘Did you meet Morghien on the road?’