The Stormcaller: Book One Of The Twilight Reign (22 page)

 

As Bahl walked through the top floor of the palace, he noted the dry and lifeless atmosphere with a growing distaste. Few people came up here - the guest apartments for court-ranked nobles were on a lower floor. Neither fresh rushes on the floors nor the smell of beeswax did much to change the impression of a temple, deserted yet still full of quiet reverence.

Bahl went first to Isak’s chambers, then down to the library, where he paused at the entrance. He ran a hand lightly over the faded painting that covered the double doors: one of his more enlightened predecessors had been responsible for this picture, which still clearly showed his message to all who would follow him. It depicted a figure, no doubt the lord himself, sword sheathed and carrying only a handful of scrolls as he faced down an approaching army. It was a message Atro had never appreciated, for all his acquisitiveness; few white-eyes would.

As he had expected, Bahl found Tila within, a book lying forgotten in her lap as she stared out through the bay window. The library had once been a temple to the remaining Gods of the Upper Circle before a past lord who valued learning over piety had converted it. Few recognised this room as the treasure trove it was: more than a thousand leather-bound books and dusty scrolls gathered together in a Land where fear of heresy, prophecy and magic meant academics had to work in secret and the history of the Land was hidden in legend and fable: truth buried in myth. With daemons and Aspects—local gods subordinate to a more powerful deity - part of everyday life for some men, knowledge and the written word were as powerful as they were dangerous.

A fire crackling in the wide hearth off to his left took the edge off the cool air. Even in the depths of winter, the library was a sanctuary, away from the crowded, noisy Great Hall. The Chief Steward, using a burning log from the constant fire in the Great Hall, lit the fire in the library first, as tradition dictated. The tradition predated Bahl: it was a symbolic act that Lesarl had determinedly retained.

Bahl crossed over to the fireplace and added more logs. The noise startled Tila and she jumped to her feet, sending the book clattering to the floor. She winced, knowing full well how expensive each volume was.

‘My Lord—’ she started, but he cut her off with a look, then dragged a heavy oak chair closer to the fire and indicated that she should do the same. He leaned in close to banish the dismal chill in his bones.

‘We should talk,’ he announced softly. Tila sat primly upright with her hands clamped together in her lap, waiting for him to continue, but Bahl took a minute to look her up and down first. The girl wore rather more jewellery than Lesarl usually permitted, but as most was religious, Bahl didn’t comment. Unlike most Farlan, her eyes were light in colour, a soft hazel with flashes of yellow; eyes more suited to laughter than sorrow.

‘You’re close to my Krann.’ No question, merely a statement of fact.

‘Yes, my Lord. He ... Lord Isak doesn’t require much of me, only that I teach him all I can, of the wars of the Houses, the Age of Gods, any small story I might have told my niece before bed.’ She wasn’t sure what Lord Bahl wanted her to say.

‘He learns quickly?’

‘Oh yes! He is hungry to hear everything, I suppose because he never had a mother to—’ She halted abruptly. Bahl’s early life had been far harsher than Isak’s; the entire palace knew that. ‘He also questions the stories; he wants to know why things happen.’

‘Give me an example.’

Tila thought a moment, her lips slightly pursed. ‘Well, the punishments of the cursed. I’d never thought about why they were punished differently, but that interested Isak more than the punishments themselves. A couple of times last week he even corrected the priests - well, the ones who still go near him after what he did to Afger Wetlen.’ She hesitated again, scared that she was saying too much, or sounding like a gossip - that could cost her Isak’s friendship as well as her position.

Bahl drew his cloak tighter around himself and gazed away at the shelves behind Tila’s head. ‘Yes, that was unexpected,’ he murmured, almost to himself, before turning his attention back to the maid. ‘No matter, it brings me to what I wish to say. Isak is special, and not just as my Krann. The Age of Fulfilment is a bad time to be special.’

Tila nodded, her head turning fractionally towards the bay window she’d been watching Isak from.

‘A lord is blessed beyond any other mortal, but the Gods are not nursemaids. They expect and demand unwavering loyalty. A lord should love only his patron, because to love another is to have a point of weakness.’ Bahl was speaking as much to the past, and giving the warning Ineh had never had. ‘No matter what he whispers in the night, he cannot always protect you—’

‘My Lord!’ she protested, a scarlet flush in her cheeks. ‘He’s not—we’ve not...’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence before the Chosen of the Gods. Bahl was surprised, but she was telling the truth. No one could lie to him, not even hardened criminals or politicians.

‘So you’re not that close yet - but is it just a matter of time? Tell me, girl, and truthfully.’

‘I—’ Tila lowered her eyes to escape her master’s scrutiny.

‘You have feelings for him? Foolish, very foolish.’

That sparked defiance in Tila. ‘Lord Isak and I have much in common; we enjoy each other’s company,’ she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. ‘What does it matter whether I do or not? Why else was I sent to here in the first place?’

Bahl raised an eyebrow. ‘Your parents will want you to secure a post in Isak’s retinue and gain influence enough to be a useful bride. Lord Isak is a white-eye, not some major promoted from the ranks that you can housetrain into polite society. You could not have a family with him, could not grow old with him. Those gifts he now carries would make you the most valuable hostage in the entire Land.’

Tila nodded. ‘I know that, my Lord. I have not even thought of discussing the future with Lord Isak. At the moment I just care that he comes back alive.’

‘You doubt his skills? However much he grins and acts the jester, a white-eye is born to fight and to survive; Isak’s no exception there.’

‘I understand, my Lord,’ she said. ‘I just can’t help thinking that an army in winter must want more than just slaves, and those gifts fit the puzzle. Isak is inexperienced enough without a whole army intent on killing him specifically.’ She released her hands for a moment to tease a thin citrine ring into a more comfortable position, then her fingers tightened around each other again.

‘I am pleased that you understand,’ Bahl said. ‘Isak will need staff who can anticipate as well as organise. Too many of my nobles still say this attack is nothing more than evidence of elven insanity. Those who do recall the name Shalstik dismiss it.’

Tila frowned for a moment, then understanding dawned. ‘Shalstik; I remember that. My mother couldn’t stop boasting when a Harlequin stayed as her sister’s house-guest for a week over the summer. This one apparently told the Prophecy of Shalstik every night for a week. My mother said the prophecy concerned the rebirth of the last king; but surely they cannot think Lord Isak is really Aryn Bwr reborn?’

Bahl snorted. ‘No, I seriously doubt even they do, but those weapons are enough by themselves to start a holy war with the elves. If they have decided their time has come, I don’t know what it will take to stop them. I hope I never find out. Until then, think on what I have said. There is no room in Isak’s life for romantic fancies.’ He stood and looked into the crackling fire. A gust of wind ran down the chimney, sending a puff of smoke out into the room. Before the curls of grey could reach Tila they stopped, hanging listlessly for a moment before fading to nothing.

Tila shifted in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her and tugging her cloak over them like a blanket. Then a thought struck her and she twisted herself around to look at the books lining the walls. ‘Isak knows so little of our myths and ancient history. Perhaps I could be of some use to him while he is away. If he has prophecies to contend with, the knowledge in this room could prove vital.’ She looked up at Lord Bahl, a note of pleading in her voice.

Bahl gave a curt nod. ‘I think you are a very sensible young woman; one he will benefit from listening to.’ He had said enough; now he left the room without another word.

Two weeks later, Bahl was preparing to start his journey east. News from Lomin was confusing, but better than he had expected. The linked mages had again allowed Bahl to speak to the scion, this time to follow the enemy’s movements. Vitil had fallen and had been razed to the ground, with the loss of more than three hundred men, but more than half of the population had been saved by a heroic effort on the part of the garrison. Their sacrifice had drawn in the enemy attack and allowed nearby Kohm to safely evacuate along with Vitil’s civilians. Kohm’s garrison saw all the refugees to the greater safety of Peak’s Gate.

With two full legions of troops there, and the townsfolk bolstering their number, the elves would not attempt to take the fortress-town of Peak’s Gate. It would take months of siege to break that ancient stronghold, so the elves would be content to maintain a stand-off at the gates.

When the effort had again become too much for the twinned mage, Bahl had sat in silence until everyone else had shuffled from the room. He felt a nagging guilt about sending the army off under Isak’s command. General Lahk was more than competent; he would not allow the Krann to make any fatal mistake, and yet ...

And yet Bahl knew he should be out there, leading his army himself, not walking down to the Great Hall to grab a last meal before he left Tirah. If he took the high mountain paths shunned by most Farlan, he would be able to travel undisturbed to his friend’s deathbed. He had failed to find any trace of the vampire they suspected was in the city; this distraction at least he would see through.

It was evening, and muffled sounds of revelry came from behind the aged oak doors, garbled and distant, but nonetheless welcome after the empty apartments and corridors of the upper levels. He looked at the flags adorning the corridor: they were of similar age to his dying friend in the forest, and they looked as worn as the abbot had been when Bahl had last seen him. Soon Bahl would have to choose replacements for both as he endured yet another lifetime.

On a rare impulse he sat at the foot of the great stairway and pressed his temple against the cold stone of the wall. As he did so, he imagined a tremble of age pass to him from the stone, but he knew it was nothing. He ran a hand over the worn steps and looked up at the flags, wondering when his own time would come. White-eyes could live past five hundred summers; however much Bahl felt like an old man, he had several lifetimes ahead of him. It was hard to welcome them.

In the Great Hall, the cooking fire spat and roared as a deer roasted slowly above its flames, the scent of it thick in the air. As Bahl entered, the noise waned briefly, but he ignored the faces turned in his direction and made for the fire. A maid pulled a bowl-shaped flatbread from the cauldron behind her and heaped dripping hunks of venison and vegetables into it for him.

‘You’re leaving now?’ Bahl turned to see Lesarl behind him and nodded as he slipped a chunk of meat into his mouth. ‘So is Tiniq,’ Lesarl continued. ‘He’s just had a message from the Chief of Rangers; he’s setting out immediately, on foot again, as always. He claims he doesn’t like riding.’

‘At this hour? I take it the message was delayed in getting to him.’

‘I might have kept the ranger waiting in my office a little longer than necessary.’ Lesarl smiled. He knew Tiniq had piqued his lord’s interest.

‘Thank you. Where is he?’

‘Pack hidden under the table, trying to be unobtrusive, behind you, door-side.’

Bahl nodded his thanks and gestured for Lesarl to return to his own meal, then turned to spot Tiniq, who was sitting with shoulders hunched, staring down at an empty cup. The ranger rarely came to the palace; he was here even less these days as the advancing years failed to mark his face. Tiniq Lahk defied all conventions: he was General Lahk’s younger twin, a normal man, not a white-eye, and one who should have died in the womb as twins of white-eyes always did. Just as a white-eye’s size would kill the mother in childbirth, so the life of any twin would be squeezed out in the weeks beforehand. But somehow Tiniq had clung grimly to life, and though a sickly child, he had grown into a strong youth. He had had a lonely childhood, fostered to a forester, and grew up suspicious of strangers. He appeared to have taken on many white-eye attributes, and no doubt he was touched by magic, a little, but just how much, he kept to himself. This was a mystery Bahl was still waiting to resolve.

Bahl’s cogitation was interrupted as Tiniq noticed him. ‘My Lord?’ he said as he rose from his seat and gave Bahl a short bow.

‘I’m leaving for the Ked road now. I take it you won’t be going too far off track if you accompany me part of the way.’