The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (46 page)

The day of the Spring Fair came too soon for the brooding Krann. He’d told the others about the major’s visit, but they’d not been able to provide the answers he’d hoped for. Tila pointed out that the Devoted had been founded on decent principles, so there had to be some true men within their ranks.

Vesna worked from the other side: he thought it was a trap, and wondered whether it could truly be an ambush. The Ivy Rings were halfway between Narkang and the Fortress of the Devoted. While
killing or abducting Isak was a risky venture, it was certainly feasible:
it was no secret that the Devoted considered Siulents and Eolis too dangerous to be at large in the Land.

That would be a dramatic move, and one that would mean they’d have to abandon their strongholds in Emin Thonal’s kingdom, but if they thought the prize worthwhile, it wouldn’t be beyond the
Devoted.

The Ivy Rings? Who in the name of Vrest’s beard told you about them?’ Emin actually looked surprised when Isak asked about the
temple. They were sitting on a high terrace looking out over the city,
overlooking the tents and banners of the Spring Fair. The morning’s
rain had lessened and Isak had joined Emin for the midday meal.

The king was dressed as resplendently as ever and Isak could see no
trace of the strain that he was surely under. In two days his life and city were to be threatened, yet he was relaxed and at ease.

‘I overheard a conversation, that’s all.’

Then it must have been an odd conversation.’ Emin sounded curious. ‘Few people like to talk about the place. But since you asked, the Ivy Rings are a disused temple, once dedicated to Belarannar, but few people go there these days. They’re in Llehden, a strange place.’

‘Strange?’

‘Yes, strange.’ Emin sniffed. For a moment he became reserved, serious, before he forced the mood away. ‘A friend of mine was lost
there a few years past. The shire is a reasonable size - no towns, but a number of villages that are prosperous enough.’

‘And the lord of the shire?’

‘Does not exist. There’s not been a Lord of Llehden for generations.
As I said, strange things happen there and folk prefer to steer clear. The inhabitants aren’t hostile to outsiders, but they live under rather
different rules. I have yet to find a tax officer who is willing to go there
for me - at least more than once,’ he added darkly. Emin’s smile was ambiguous, not angry, but he clearly didn’t relish his lack of control.

‘Llehden is like an island: the region feels much more isolated than it actually is. If you go there you’ll find the landscape feels - well,
sharper,
as if natural magic influences the environment and folklore and myth have a greater grip on reality. The Gentry, Coldhand Folk, Dead Man’s Wives; these things are much more common there. Unless you have a reason to go, I would suggest you avoid Llehden. A place like that has a natural balance to it. I doubt it would welcome
you.’

‘So not a great sight-seeing destination then,’ Isak said quietly, and changed the conversation, asking instead about the origins of the
Spring Fair.

Emin smiled, relieved, and launched himself into a potted version
of Narkang’s history.

On the second morning of the Spring Fair, Isak awoke to see a single bright shaft of sunlight piercing the shutters of his room. The gloom of previous days had dissipated and as he opened the windows, he was met by a warm sea breeze. Yesterday the air had been full of the
murky tang of seaweed and sodden driftwood. Now he could taste the life and energy of the waves. It put a smile on his face as he pulled on
Siulents and belted Eolis around his waist. The blue hood of Nartis went into his belt. He felt no need to retreat behind it today, but with
so many people out on the plain he wanted to be able to relax without worrying how much people could read in his face.

They went out early. Isak elected to ride so he had horses at hand in case things became desperate on the last day. To justify being the
only nobleman on horseback, he toured the fair, using Toramin’s great bulk to dissuade people from approaching. Tila accompanied him, riding side-saddle on Megenn. The saddle was actually a normal one, but with tightly wrapped blankets they had managed to construct something that was comfortable enough for her to ride. If it came to a mad
rush for the gates, Isak wanted Tila to be safe. Her own mare was fine for travelling, but Megenn was bigger, faster, and battle-trained.

The entire city seemed to have descended to the plain. A riot of noise, bustle and activity surrounded the Farlan as they trotted past open kitchens, acrobatic displays, parties of minstrels and a host of
weird and wonderful games. Vesna was naturally at the jousting fences,
watching the competition and preparing himself for his first match.
He’d been drawn against a commoner who’d won the morning’s com
petitions. It was traditional for a few peasants or apprentices from the city to be allowed to cross lances with the noblemen. The king provided armour and horses, and any victory - rare though they were - would win the man a personal congratulation from his monarch.

Vesna was hardly worried by the tall, ruddy-faced youth who was
ecstatic just to be scheduled to face the legendary count. He was more
concerned about two men wearing the colours of the Devoted: the
Kingsguard champion and a wealthy knight of the city, who’d made a
point of coming to greet him. Vesna had noted the tattoo on his ear
as they spoke.

As the man departed, casting one last avaricious look at Vesna’s
ensorcelled sword, Vesna had felt a sudden pang of unfamiliar nervousness.
Fool,
he chastised himself with a grin.
Fall in love and you’re
suddenly a shy little boy again. There’s a reason a man of the Brotherhood
made a point of coming to see you now, because you’re
that good. Just
remember: these people know your name for a reason.

Isak found himself enjoying the fair far more than he’d expected. He
loved the exotic, sometimes bizarre foods on display; they were mainly
drawn from the ocean and though he recognised little of the samples offered up by beaming cooks, he’d made significant inroads on his hunger long before he was due to eat with the king. The further in they went, the stranger the sights became.

He lingered for a long while to watch a hedge wizard in ragged robes perform a meagre repertoire of tricks. Unsurprisingly, the audience was mainly young children, but Isak was fascinated by the display, mean as it was. By watching the movements and tasting the
changes in the air, Isak quickly understood how the man was keeping the children enthralled. His abilities were minimal, too minor perhaps even to have been trained, but Isak greatly enjoyed the
invention.

When the display was over, Isak beckoned the man over and gave
him a gold emin. He was overwhelmed by the hedge wizard’s thanks,
which he shrugged off, a little embarrassed at having caused such an emotional scene. Tila raised an eyebrow at his generosity, but Isak just grinned. He had enjoyed the theatrics as much as any of the children there.

‘He taught me something. That’s worth a coin.’ Isak held his hands together and copied one of the wizard’s unintelligible phrases, and a pair of flame wings rose up into the air before dissipating. The girl smiled at the joy on his face, trying not to show the sudden sadness as she remembered he’d never been allowed this sort of fun before. Sometimes it was hard to remember the Krann was only just out of childhood, for all his size and power.

‘Come on, my Lord, we should be going back to the pavilion,’ she said finally. Isak was dining with the king in the royal box, in one of the two massive pavilions erected down either side of the jousting
field.

‘Tigers first,’ he declared. ‘Emin said there would be a menagerie of animals, and I’m guessing it’ll be downwind of here. I’m seeing a tiger before I do anything more.’ He reached out and took her hand, giving
it a squeeze of brotherly affection. Tila could do nothing but laugh at the anticipation on his face as she trotted after him.

‘So, my Lord, do you still think your wager is safe? Emin pointed with his cigar to the knight taking the crowd’s applause. The young man shone in the sunlight as he wheeled his horse about, waving to the crowd. His visor was up and Isak could see the beaming face of a
youth about his own age. As the new - and youngest-ever - champion
of the Kingsguard, Emin had gifted the knight with a gold-inlaid suit
of armour. The helm had been fashioned into the cherubic features of
one of Karkarn’s Aspects, a boyish smile with one blood-red tear falling from his right eye, an image that was often used by the Harlequins
for their masks.

‘He’s good, but he can’t have come up against a man of Count
Vesna’s ability,’ answered Tila for her Lord.

She blushed as Emin smiled at her and asked, ‘You’ve seen much
jousting, my lady?’

‘My brother lives for it, your Majesty.’

‘Then perhaps you would judge the next two men as they parade?
Thank you, my dear. Lord Isak, while your most capable advisor prepares my next wager, perhaps we should peruse the crowd.’ He selected
a sweetened prawn from the plate between them and nodded his head
to the opposing pavilion. Isak followed the movement, his eye going
straight to a group of people taking seats opposite them.

It was hard to stand out in a crowd of rich noblemen and women,
but Herolen Jex had managed it. Dressed in red and white, he glided
along the walkway ahead of five others. All eyes were on him. The tanned skin of a Western Islander had darkened further with a lifetime under the sun. Isak could easily imagine this man striding the deck of a ship: Jex walked as if he owned the pavilion and all those in it. His glittering smile swept down the rows of people, and they seemed to feel it touch their skin. A whole line of noblemen rippled around to meet his gaze, before lowering their eyes as if he were royalty. The man might have been an enemy, but Isak couldn’t help
admiring Jex’s presence.

Isak glanced at Emin while this procession was going on. The king’s eyes were narrow and focused. He was smoking his cigar in his usual languid fashion, but he seemed oblivious to the smoke passing in front of his eyes. Isak looked back to the other pavilion: Jex seated - and
looking directly at them. The pirate was sprawled over two seats, one
arm running down the backrest and his boots resting on the one in
front. It was causing significant discomfort to the man in front of him,
but he didn’t appear to be objecting.

Jex matched stares with Isak and Emin, then slid his boots back
on to the boards below. Leaning forward, he plucked a cigar from the
hands of the hapless noble in front, sat back and began to puff away
at it in mockery of the king. Emin gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, which Jex returned.

Isak just pointed to Count Vesna, preparing for his next joust, and made an obscene gesture at the pirate. Jex threw his head back and
laughed loud enough to hush half of the pavilion, taking no notice of
the curious looks he received.

Similarly, Isak ignored both the groan from behind him, and his
political advisor poking a leather-shod toe into her Lord’s back.

They watched the jousting for much of the afternoon. The gathering opposite them was in a constant state of flux, but they soon noticed a pattern in the way Jex’s companions were moving about. The man just sat still and waited for reports to be collected and brought to him. When Vesna easily toppled his third and last opponent of the day, Jex affected a yawn and threw a coin on to the sand as the count dismounted to take his applause. The crowd hushed immediately - the whole city had heard of the coming duel.

Vesna pretended not to see the throw, idly discovering the coin at
his feet a few seconds later. Both pavilions craned their heads forward
as he bent to pick it up. The Farlan hero held it up to the light for a moment, them turned towards Isak and, with affected delight, held
the silver piece up for his Lord to see.

The Krann raised a thumb in approval, knowing Vesna’s self-deprecating humour well enough, and the whole crowd began to laugh. Beaming from ear to ear, Vesna walked back to his page with a jaunty step made even more comical by the constraints of his armour.

The crowd laughed even harder, but Jex failed to join in.

‘Isak, it’s time to decide.’ Tila couldn’t tell if he’d even heard her
speak: the frown on his face was more pensive than angry.

Still Isak didn’t react. They had been talking endlessly about the Devoted major and his news, right into the early hours, and now it was the last day of Spring Fair and no one was convinced they knew what the right thing to do was. Isak wasn’t sure he trusted the earnest young major; there was too much he didn’t understand. And yet… And yet it was too obvious to be an ambush. Isak’s company might not be large, but his men were Ghosts and it would take more than a single regiment to overcome them, especially if they were already on
their guard.

Then there was the added problem of Lord Bahl: he wouldn’t wait
for his Chief Steward to come up with evidence; he would just attack.
For all their power, the Devoted stood no chance against the Farlan
Army.

And there was another worry: King Emin. Emin and that dangerous
little smile of his - in some ways, that was the only reassurance Isak
had. The Narkang king was clever, and he wanted the Farlan to know
it. If he were Isak’s enemy, he would not have shown so much of him
self. It was obvious there was more involved, but Emin had dropped
enough hints for Isak to be sure his plans were suitably grand in scope,
and needing Parian involvement, not enmity.

He sighed, deeply, and turned to Tila. ‘The red.’

Tila held up the red silk scarf that she’d bought the previous day, then knotted the white about Megenn’s reins. Vesna nudged his horse closer and she tied the red scarf about his arm, already clad in black-iron. The count had been permitted to wear his enchanted armour after the king had ruled that it was no less awkward than unensorcelled plate, and would not give him an unfair advantage. The count wondered if he also agreed so the expected finale would be all the more dramatic: the Lion of Anvee darkly glittering in the sun, facing the shining form of Emin’s champion, the youth nicknamed the Sun-
bee because of his gold-plated armour. The contrast of misty black and glittering gold would certainly be good fare for the dozens of minstrels
and storytellers out on the plain this day.

‘Are you sure?’ Carel looked far from happy at the decision.

‘We can ask the king for an escort, surely?’ This was a question Isak
had wanted to avoid: he didn’t want the king to be privy to all his secrets, in case he had misjudged the man - the last thing he wanted was to leave open the opportunity to blame any ‘accident’ on the Knights of the Temples. Isak could see from Carel and Vesna’s reactions that he wasn’t the only one concerned about how much they
were trusting the king.

‘From what I’ve found, the Ivy Rings would be a bad place for an ambush, no matter how isolated. As for Emin, I think we can trust him, but who knows - there aren’t that many Farlan I can trust com
pletely. “Knowledge is power” - Lesarl’s favourite phrase.’ He laughed
hollowly. ‘And
a wise man knows more than his closest friend.’

That’s true enough.’ Vesna gave the scarf a tug to check it was secure. ‘But you can take this too far sometimes.’

Isak looked down at the ground, refusing to look his bondsman in
the eye.

‘Sometimes a man needs secrets. It doesn’t have to be because of a
lack of trust.’

‘It seems to happen more often these days,’ said Carel. ‘Morghien, for one - you’ve said less than Mihn about him. What’s going on,
Isak?’

‘Enough!’ he roared suddenly.

Tila flinched and looked away, but Carel didn’t even blink: Isak might be powerful now, rich even, but he was still the boy Carel had
practically raised.

‘Not enough!’ he bellowed back. ‘Do you think yourself so wise now you can do everything alone? I’m not here to run your errands. If you expect me to be some meek little courtier then you can shove my title and Arugin up your arse.’

Isak didn’t reply, but clamped his jaws tightly shut.

Carel gave an exasperated snort and clouted the Krann round the head, ignoring the gasps from onlookers. ‘What’s wrong with you,
boy? Is the magic rotting your brain, or has all this Saviour talk gone
to your head?’

This time Isak gave a snarl and swatted Carel’s hand away, then
reached out and grabbed a handful of his tunic and physically pulled
him from his saddle. He brought Carel’s face up to his own.

Tila screamed and grabbed at the huge fist, but Isak shrugged her
off without a glance.

‘Go on then.’ Carel croaked. ‘Hit me. Prove to the whole Land
you’re nothing more than an animal. Perhaps I did waste my time on
you. Maybe I should have given you to that mercenary on the road
after all, rather than gift the Land another monster with more power
than sense. You’re just one man, Isak. Whatever gifts you have, how
ever big you are, you’re still just a man. You can’t fight a war alone
- you’ll fail us all.’

Isak’s fist quivered as fury coursed through his body and the hot
scent of rage filled his nostrils. Carel looked into his boy’s cold eyes
and, for the first time, he felt a pang of fear. The white-eye’s face was
flushed red and his lips were curled back in a snarl. Sparks danced
from his tiny black pupils.

The only sound Carel could hear was the savage rush of Isak’s breathing as he struggled to speak. ‘Don’t fail me, boy.’ The words were little more than a whispered prayer, but they doused the fire
instantly.

Isak jerked in shock, accidentally shaking Carel like a rag doll. He looked around at the others clustered around him, then, with a stunned expression on his face, he lowered Carel to the floor. He
clung hard to the pommel of the saddle and bent low over Toramin’s
neck, trembling uncontrollably. Carel reached a hand out to steady
himself against the horse’s shoulder, panting as hard as Isak.

The Ghosts had formed a circle around them as soon as Isak started raising his voice, warding them from curious onlookers, but themselves were casting panicky looks at their commander and their Lord.

‘I’m sorry.’ Isak sounded as weak as a kitten, but human once more. Carel coughed, then reached out to Isak. Though he had no
strength to squeeze Isak’s hand, his words were clear: ‘I know you are, lad.’

As Carel filled his lungs and breathed deeply, colour returned to his cheeks. He held on to Isak’s hand and looked up at him, worried. ‘But one day, my boy, it might go too far; you might not be able to pull back in time. If you want advisors who care about you and not your
power, remember what that means. It might not be my place as a loyal
subject to ask what puts that hunted look on your face, but as your
friend, I’m going to, whether I can help or not. If you keep everything
to yourself, it’ll drive you mad.’

Isak lifted his head, eyes filled with sadness. ‘I know, but Carel, I don’t understand it myself. As for explaining it to you, I wouldn’t
know where to begin. I’m not even sure there is a beginning.’ He still
looked shamefaced, but held up a hand to ward off further questions.
‘If we survive today, I promise I’ll tell you all I can. I owe you that, I
know that, and much more.’

Carel looked at him for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. That’ll do, boy. I’ll be waiting.’ He reached out an arm and Isak helped him
back on his horse.

Now Isak turned to the others. Tila was visibly shocked, as was
Mistress Daran, who was ineffectually stroking the green silk sleeve of
Tila’s dress, as much to soothe herself as her charge. Isak opened his mouth to speak, but the words went unsaid. What could he say? That
it wouldn’t happen again - that he, a white-eye, would never lose his temper again? He tried to catch Tila’s eye, but her long hair hid her
face.

Touching his heels to Toramin’s flank, Isak restarted their advance
on the jousting arena. The sun spread thick golden warmth over the
trampled grass. Plump cloud rode smoothly on the brisk wind as they
raced over the Land. The plain was already crowded and a chorus of
songs, shouting, cheers, jeers and laughter filled the air. The public
galleries for the jousting were already full as people jostled for a better view. Clearly word of Tila’s bet had got around. Five hundred gold
coins - emins or any other currency - was a fortune. The people of Narkang wanted to cheer their champion.

Isak watched as a group of children squabbled over a pair of makeshift lances. The two boys who won out each had a cape fixed about his shoulders. One wore black, the other yellow. They were just about to perch on the backs of the two who were being the horses when a smudge-faced little girl noticed the Farlan. She gave a shriek of excitement and in a matter of seconds, the column had grown a tail of wondering eyes and dirty faces, all marvelling not at Isak, but at
Count Vesna, resplendent in his battle dress.

Isak tried to smile but couldn’t. He knew they were hanging back from him because they were scared of him, and he knew they had
reason to be.

‘My Lord is well?’ the king enquired as Isak took his seat. As the previous day, the queen was absent and Count Antern filled the chair beside the king. To excuse her from the violence likely to follow, the queen had been forced to spend most of the fair secluded in her
chambers, apparently suffering from a severe headache.

Isak gave a curt nod and the king pressed no further. His pale face told enough of a tale, enforced by the way Mihn was fussing around his master, pressing him to eat. At first Isak refused anything other than a mug of tea, but soon he started picking idly at the delicacies piled high on platters.

‘The count is well rested, I hope,’ Emin prompted, looking at Carel and Tila, both of whom looked as wan as their lord, but they both
nodded firmly.

‘Most certainly, your Majesty,’ the young woman told him, adding
sternly, ‘he will prove more than a match for Sir Bohv.’

As she spoke, the knight himself trotted out to greet the crowd. He was a particularly tall man, standing a good two inches over his Farlan opponent. He had a friendly, open face, and the wild excesses of his carrot hair were checked by the red-stained helm that matched his armour. Though the knight was a devout member of the Knights of the Temples, he remained an individual, in this case displaying a fine sense of humour. His colours were yellow and azure, but as an
affectionate nod to both himself and his Order, Sir Bohv’s armour was
painted bright red.

‘I hope so,’ the king chuckled. ‘If I’m to win this bet with Lord Isak,
I’d hate for any man but my champion to claim victory over Count
Vesna.’

‘After yesterday’s performance, your Majesty, I believe your Sunbee should try to be rather less ornamental.’

Emin laughed at the truth in her words. His champion had been a
hair’s breadth from serious injury, too busy playing up to the crowd as
he tilted against the knight with the Brotherhood tattoo.

‘But he is young, and such folly is understandable, wouldn’t you
agree, Lord Isak?’

The Krann grunted; he’d been deep in his own thoughts. Emin’s
smile sparked a flicker of irritation, but he suppressed the feeling and
inclined his head to concede the point.

‘Unfortunately, the poor boy may find his follies catch up with him soon enough,’ continued the king. The twinkle in his eye could not
fail to arouse Tila’s curiosity.

‘And what follies are these, your Majesty?’

‘I gather his celebrations lasted well into the evening yesterday -and now it appears he is expected to be wearing no fewer than three favours on his arm today, and that leaves him in a pretty pickle.’

Tila smiled at the notion, until she imagined Count Vesna riding
out with three scarves on his arm. ‘Your Majesty seems most amused
by a situation that cannot fail to distract his champion.’

‘It has to be a matter of some concern for him, that’s true - but then I realised there was a way to avoid this situation.’

‘Oh?’ Her smile fled.

The king smiled even more broadly. ‘Well, as my champion, I could
solve matters easily by commanding him to honour the queen and ask
for her favour.’

‘But the queen is not here,’ Tila faltered.

‘Exactly my problem,’ the king replied brightly. ‘So who could my
champion legitimately ask, I wonder? As my representative, he would
have to pick a lady of sufficient import, perhaps make it a gesture of
goodwill-‘

‘Oh no, he can’t-You can’t…’

Emin clapped his hands together as if the thought had only just
struck him. ‘But of course, a visiting dignitary! Ah, Lady Tila, that is
a generous and wise offer.’

‘But Count Vesna already wears my favour. It would be unseemly for both men to-‘ Tila’s protestations wilted under Emin’s relentless
smile. The glitter in his eyes showed how much he was enjoying him
self. Even today, he had time for games.

‘I’m sure the count will understand - a gesture of friendship between nations, that’s all. And you would be saving three delicate young
ladies from terrible heartbreak.’