The Stormcaller: Book One Of The Twilight Reign (55 page)

The corridor led to a small arched doorway, similar in style to the main entrance, but blocked by a brass-bound door. On either side stood a soldier of the Kingsguard, resplendent in dress uniforms - but however beautifully etched, the spear-heads were still sharp, and lethal. Off to the left lounged three more obviously armed men: Doranei, Veil and a particularly tall man with ash-blond hair and a rough scar down his cheek that spoiled his otherwise good looks.

They straightened as their king approached, and the guardsmen pulled the doors open to display a circular pool some eight yards across, steam gently rising from the surface. The walls were tiled in tiny ceramic pieces: this mosaic detailed a scene of feasting and relaxation and stretched all around the chamber, disappearing behind a partition the height of a man that ran along the wall opposite the door.

Marble nymphs sprawled at the edges while another statue of Baoliss sat at the far end, a trickle of steaming water running from her hands into the pool. Busts of the Gods sat in alcoves, the eyes of each picked out in expensive colour: sapphires glinted from the blank face of Nartis, gold shone from Death’s cowled head. It was the brilliant emeralds shining from the Lady’s perfect features that caught Isak’s attention. She was a curious choice, for the Lady was not of the Upper Circle. He didn’t doubt that the king had a good reason for her presence.

Doranei and his colleagues marched straight in and headed for the far wall, where there were three high windows, about six feet off the ground. Without breaking his stride, Veil raised one foot and placed it on to a ledge that Isak could now see running the length of the wall, two or three feet high. From there he leapt easily up on to the sill, a dagger drawn but hidden, and peered through the open windows to the outside wall. His search for spies satisfied, he gestured to the others.

Doranei retrieved a pole from one comer and passed it to Veil, who used it to hang heavy pieces of linen attached to rods over the open windows, obscuring the view for any outside observer, but leaving the room still light enough to see each other’s faces. Isak thought it rather excessive, but this was Emin’s city.

‘Lord Isak.’ The king stood by the wall that sectioned off part of the room and beckoned him over. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have time to enjoy the comforts of these restorative waters. Perhaps you would take my word that they are excellent and follow me?’

Isak gave the man a quizzical look as he disappeared behind the partition. Coran stood back impassively, just far enough to permit Isak’s passage. He looked around: Doranei and his colleagues - Isak guessed the scarred man was one of the Brotherhood too - waited on the other side of the pool.

With Mihn close behind, Isak followed the king behind the partition to find a polished wooden bench opposite a small stone shrine at the far end. The shrine, the height of a normal man’s chest, had empty slots for incense sitting before an icon of each God of the Upper Circle.

‘Excessive piety has its uses,’ commented Emin as he indicated the shrine. ‘Would you be kind enough to move that to one side? It should go very easily for one of your strength; it pivots about the right-hand side.’

Isak looked suspiciously at the shrine, but he could detect no magic anywhere so he nodded and gripped the sides carefully. The shrine did indeed twist to the right with almost no effort. The wide base moved aside to reveal a hole in the ground. Isak peered in, he could see nothing. The king smiled and bowed in mock thanks, then stepped past the Farlan Lord and crouched down to the hole.

‘The city worries that I have some distressing skin condition. I spend many hours at the baths, so they naturally fear the worst. My doctor is well paid to possess a creative imagination, and by half a dozen others to reveal all he knows. He’s starting to enjoy it now, I think.’

He smiled and dropped through into the black depths. The Krann turned and caught Mihn’s amused expression. He still couldn’t see anything, but if the king had taken that fall so easily, how could he not? Another lesson, it appeared, whether intentional or not: find out how deep the hole is before you show it to anyone else! Isak reached a hand out into the space before him and concentrated. It was easy now. Within a few seconds a faint blue glow began to emanate from his fingertips, then it increased in intensity, creeping out to caress the smooth walls of the tunnel below and the floor, perhaps seven feet down.

Emin waited casually to one side, one eyebrow raised theatrically at Isak’s use of magic. ‘Come, my Lord, time is a-wasting.’

Isak dropped down, followed by Mihn, and then Coran lowered himself down carefully and deliberately. Isak was puzzled until he saw Coran drop the last few feet on to his right leg. Interesting, Isak thought: given the recuperative powers of most white-eyes, either that damaged leg was a recent injury, or it had been a very severe one.

The king reached out and touched his fingers to a rope that ran all the way down the side of the wood-beamed tunnel. With the light Isak still brandished it was unnecessary, but Emin still trotted his fingers along the rope as he walked off down the slightly sloping tunnel, followed by Coran and then, with a shrug, Isak and Mihn.

As Emin chattered idly away, the hole quietly closed up behind them.

‘Your Majesty—’

‘Please, interrupted the king, ‘that’s a little formal for these surroundings, don’t you think? Call me Emin - at least when there’s no one around to sniff at the breach in protocol!’

‘Of course,’ Isak said. ‘What I wanted to know was why you use the “heart” rune.’

Emin turned, the weak light casting a strange shadow on his face. ‘For the Brotherhood?’ He shrugged. ‘A whim, nothing more. Did Fedei tell you that?’

Isak nodded.

The king didn’t seem at all irritated by the Seer’s revelation, merely curious. ‘My only requirement was a basic design that could be recognisable, even when so small. I decided on a core rune because they are very simple, and chose “heart” because it can mean “kernel” or “stone” in certain contexts, like a cherry stone, for example. I thought that apt for Narkang: rich and sweet, but under the surface not so vulnerable. If an enemy takes too great a bite, he’ll break his teeth, I promise. That’s all, nothing more sinister.’ He laughed. ‘Why?’

Isak shook his head. ‘No reason; it just struck me as strange.’

‘As does much in this life, I find. Ah, here we are.’

They had walked several hundred yards and now the tunnel ended abruptly at a wall set with iron rungs. Isak could see a square wooden shaft with slivers of light creeping through the gaps between the higher planks. The rungs were no more than finger-thick steel rods, bent into two right angles and hammered into the rock. Isak tested the first gingerly after Emin had climbed up, but it was clear they went deep. By the time Isak reached halfway up, the king had exited through a trapdoor and into what looked like a cupboard.

Isak peered through at floor level and wrinkled his nose at the thick odour of dust. Squeezing his arms and shoulders through the hole, Isak raised himself up into the small space, brushing away a musty-smelling cape as it stroked his face. He wondered who owned it, and where they were - it didn’t seem fitting that a king should own something so frayed. Then he grinned and reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one with a previous life. The king had taken his throne by force; maybe this cape was a reminder of sorts. The door stood ajar and Isak paused for a second, listening to the voices, before pushing his way into the room.

‘Captain, we have a visitor. Could you please tell Antern to come up, and any of the Brothers who might be around? Our newcomer and the librarian might also want to meet my guest. I suspect most are in, no?’

‘They are,’ confirmed a gruff old voice grumpily. ‘I was up here trying to find some peace and quiet.’

‘But again I have confounded you, my apologies. Ah, Lord Isak, please make yourself comfortable.’

Emin gestured to the empty room as he ushered out a bulky man with silver hair. It was luxuriously furnished, with a large oak desk dominating one end, eight armchairs in a half-circle before it. Paintings adorned every wall, landscapes, for the most part: a distant village surrounded by hills, a vista of the city busy under summer sun. Isak went to a window and looked out through the leaded glass. In the distance he could see the copper dome of the Public Assembly building glowing in the afternoon sun.

‘This is the Di Senego Club. A small gentlemen’s club of no great importance to the would-be power brokers of the city,’ explained Emin as Mihn and Coran emerged in turn from the cupboard.

Mihn checked the door, then went to inspect the windows. Apparently satisfied, he took up a position by the door with a view of the whole room. The king moved behind the desk and unbuckled his sword-belt, hanging the gold-hilted rapier from one of two large hooks protruding from the wall.

‘Please, my Lord, take a seat. A few associates of mine will be coming up shortly. I know we have important matters to discuss between us, but these are men Morghien and I trust.’

Isak found himself a chair directly opposite Emin and unbuckled his own blade. The weapon rested comfortably in the crook of his arm as he sat down. He turned to Mihn, suddenly remembering the final gift, and pointed at the backpack.

He turned back to the king. ‘That reminds me, your—Emin. Morghien gave me a scroll to give to you, and I have another gift from Lord Bahl. A gesture of goodwill that he didn’t wish to be quite so public.’ Mihn pulled the bag from his back and retrieved the items, then placed both scroll and book on the desk.

‘Mihn has told me what he knows about Morghien, but perhaps you know more about what he wants with me?’ He knew he sounded a little whiny, but he was a little fed up with being the object of everyone’s interest.

Emin fixed his piercing blue eyes on the Krann for a moment, then nodded. ‘Of course, though the whole story is too long to relate.’ He picked up the scroll and waved it in Isak’s direction. ‘Can I assume you’ve read both of these?’

‘Of course. They wouldn’t have been given to me otherwise.’

‘Good, that will save time. As for Morghien, after his experience with the Aspect Seliasei, he wandered the Land and picked up one or two more passengers, and one of those incidents led him to be taken on as acolyte to a minor mage. They went on an expedition, organised by a group of scholars who had become acquainted through a shared study of the Mage Verliq’s works. The expedition was to the ruins of Castle Keriabral, Aryn Bwr’s own fortress. It fell during the Great War, under somewhat mysterious circumstances. They were escorted by a half-legion of Knights of the Temples.’

‘And what did they find? All the Seer told me was that Morghien was the only one who survived.’

Emin hesitated, hearing distant voices. ‘Coran,’ he asked, ‘could you ask them to wait on the stair for a minute?’

The white-eye nodded and left, closing the door carefully behind him.

‘It is something Morghien is unwilling to discuss,’ Emin told Isak. ‘It was five years before he felt able to share any of that experience with me. I hope you can understand that he would not like me to divulge such information freely.’

He paused for a moment. His face looked haunted. ‘All you need to know is that two men survived to walk back to Embere. They would not talk about their experiences, other than to say that they had looked Azaer in the face, and heard his dreadful voice. One was Morghien. The other was the son of one of the expedition’s leaders, a talented young man named Cordein Malich—’

‘Malich?’ interrupted Isak and Mihn as one. The king nodded gravely.

‘Malich. The young man who became the root of so many of your troubles. In exchange for his life, Malich made a pact of some sort.’

Isak sat up straight, a frown on his face. ‘So who, or what, is Azaer?’

‘Another mystery - and in my opinion, the most dangerous one. Among the members of this club are some of the finest minds around, academics and mages, but all we have discovered so far is that there is neither God nor daemon called Azaer. The last man who worked on the problem must have been getting somewhere, for Azaer decided to make an example of him. He was haunted by his own shadow and died, with his wife, in a locked room. I cannot and will not ask anyone else to face such a death again.

‘Even so, it continues to snare others, victims of chance whose deaths serve no purpose that I can fathom beyond Azaer’s own amusement.’ The king leant forward on his desk as he spoke, his knuckles whitening.

Isak pointed to the book on the desk. ‘According to Cardinal Disten, the man who wrote that book, Azaer was not really worshipped as such. Malich was a necromancer, he dealt with daemons. Cardinal Disten says he invoked Azaer’s name as a warning, a threat to others.’

Isak felt a little foolish; Emin surely knew far more than he did, but he gave no sign of impatience.

‘Then that in itself is instructive,’ he said, contemplatively. ‘Daemons require worship from their followers as Gods do. From what I can work out, Azaer encourages only fear, causing misery and pain whether his - its - name is mentioned or not. It’s a subtler mind at work than a daemon, and I think perhaps, given how infrequently he acts, it is reasonable to say his power is weaker too, more suited to encouraging others along a certain path than creating the path itself. Azaer lives in the shadows—’ He paused as Isak flinched, but the Krann said nothing.

After a moment Emin continued, but he was watching Isak carefully now. ‘Azaer lives in the shadows, manipulating events, perhaps even thoughts, but why, we don’t know. Those foolish few we’ve found worshipping Azaer have treated him as a daemon or a God, but generally it’s been an individual, out for personal gain, rather than a huge group of people. My suspicion is that Azaer tolerates such a use as long as his name is associated with fear.’