"A fine vintage."
"Our former lord, the esteemed Vaush, thought so too," the physician murmured dryly. "How sad that he remains missing."
"Not any longer," said another voice. "We found a gang of beggar boys playing kick-and-catch with his head a hour ago."
The last time Mazaret saw Kodel had been in the early hours of the morning, shortly after the Mogaun made their final, half-hearted assault on the main gate. Then, he had been wearing gashed, blood-stained leather armour and the torn remnants of a rider's cape, and his hair had been wild and dishevelled. Now he wore finer clothing, an armless black jerkin over a pale yellow shirt with dark brown leggings tucked into high boots. His long black hair was oiled and tied back in a warrior's topknot, accentuating his long face and hawkish features. A cavalry sabre hung on his left hip and a simple dagger was strapped to the right calf.
"And the whereabouts of this trophy?" Mazaret said, offering him the flask.
Kodel grinned. "Hanging over the main gates, right next to Begrajic's ugly head."
"What of the rest of Begrajic's warband? Do we know where they are going?"
"Geraine's scouts say that they rode north along the shore of Lake Audagal, as if heading for their northern encampment, then doubled back along the Red Way. They were last seen riding full tilt towards Hargas."
Mazaret nodded. Hargas was an important fishing port whose Mogaun overlord was Vasegd, half-brother to Begrajic. Vasegd would be sure to be enraged at the death of his brother and would hurry to move against Oumetra.
At his side the physician made a satisfied sound, and when Mazaret glanced round he saw the man folding away a small white pad of cloth on which lay a cluster of tiny black slivers.
"That is the last of it, my lord," he said, wrapping a dainty pair of silver tongs and other instruments away in waxed velvet. He applied an ash-grey salve to the wound, bandaged the area with strips of fine linen, then packed all his impedimenta away in the pockets of his long ochre coat.
"I would advise rest for at least a week, my lord," he said. "And the dressings to be changed twice a day. If pain returns after a week, or the wound begins to weep or smell malodourous, call me at once." And with a grave bow, he left.
There was silence for a short while. Mazaret watched Kodel sample the fraol, sluicing it around in his mouth before swallowing it and regarding the flask with an approving nod.
"Clothing belonging to the honoured Captain Volyn has just been recovered from the canal," Kodel said after a moment. "No body has yet been found, nor have there been any reports or sightings of him from elsewhere in the city. Until his remains are found, or he reappears safe and well, I am forced to assume his responsiblities."
"I understand," Mazaret said, uncomfortably reminded of the struggle he had with Volyn on the footbridge the previous night, but also recalling a glimpse of the man paddling towards the canal bank. "I share your concern. In the meantime I think we should talk about the girl - her name is Alael, am I correct, of House Tor-Caverill? And she can use the Lesser Power in a way I have never heard of before."
Kodel seemed not to have heard, just stood looking out of the window for a moment. Then: "Has Tauric Tor-Galantai remembered anything more about what occurred at the square?"
"No. He can recall very little from when the girl Alael began using him as some kind of vessel for her talent." Mazaret regarded the other man with a frown. "However, he did tell me of how you helped and protected him since leaving Krusivel. Why would you do all that for a boy who has no mage ability when the Hunters Children has been hiding a girl who has?"
A gleam of something close to anger came into Kodel's eyes. "For the simple reason that I knew nothing of it. Whenever Volyn spoke of her to his senior officers it was in the broadest terms and made no mention of such powers. But I believe that not even he knew - he and I had many private discussions and while he told me a great deal about Alael and her past, he never so much as hinted at anything to do with the Lesser Power."
"There has been no sign of her anywhere?"
"Nothing, no witnesses or rumours. I visited our sanctuaries across the canal and had them all searched, to no avail."
Mazaret listened closely, and something in the words sent doubt threading through him despite the steady sincerity in the man's words. "How convenient, careless even, for you to be afflicted by two disappearances. You don't think it possible that someone in your faction is concealing her from us?"
Kodel gave him a savage look. "The stench of your suspicions is overwhelming, my lord, yet I will not be provoked by sneering words. Know that the loyalty and obedience of all of the Children's attendants and agents are unquestioned. If you have any genuine challenges to make then speak out. But before you do, remind yourself of where you were when the honoured Captain fell into the canal."
Stung by the scarcely-veiled accusation, Mazaret was on his feet in a second and about to reply when a burst of loud cheering came from outside. Both men turned to stare down at the thousands of townspeople now crammed into the Great Keep's courtyard and the figure who stood on the wide balcony overlooking them all.
It was Geraine. The slender man raised his hands and gestured for quiet, and the mass of voices died away to nothing.
"My friends - for a decade and a half we have suffered invasion and the torments of barbaric oppression. How many of us have lost those dear to us in these long years of darkness? - who has not been touched by grief and loss? Who among us did not feel despair when brave Gunderlek fell in Yularia, and ached with the desire to fight back, to somehow even the scales of justice?" His voice lowered. "We have waited for such a long time for something, a ray of hope, a sign, any kind of victory. And in a single night all of that came to pass! For that which we thought gone forever has returned, the bloodline which the Mogaun and their foul allies tried to extinguish at Arengia has come blazing back to life!" A buzz of excitement rose from the crowd and Geraine smiled. "I can say no more. Let him speak for himself."
Geraine strode over to a broad curtained archway at the rear of the balcony and stood to one side. Horns sounded from upper windows, three short blasts, and two attendants emerged from the curtain, each carrying a large banner bearing a white tree on a dark blue background. Mazaret felt a thrill of joyful recognition, and heard astonished mutters rippled through the crowd, some of disbelief, others of ecstatic anticipation. It was the symbol of the Khatrimantine Emperors, its depiction forbidden on pain of death these sixteen years. Then the horns sounded again, the archway curtains parted and Tauric stepped into view. He looked at Geraine who bowed his head, and a thunderous roar erupted from the crowd. Hats were tossed in the air, people cheered and sang and hugged each other as Tauric walked up to the balcony railing. He wore a simple tunic and trews of pure sky blue, the attire of a priest of the Fathertree. The tunic's shortsleeves left his arms bare and his metal one lacked the leather covering so that it gleamed in the sun.
He raised his other hand for silence and slowly the clamour subsided. An utter peace held sway for some brief moments during which he stood and surveyed the sea of hopeful faces before him. Mazaret began to fear that the lad's confidence had broken, then Tauric spoke in a voice trembling with emotion.
"My father would have been so proud of you!"
The roar of cheers and stamping and shouts was tumultuous and died down only after several moments.
"The battle we fought yesterday is only the beginning, and once word of it travels outwards from Oumetra then others will know that the time of freedom is at hand. From the mountains of Dalbar to the plains of Roharka, people will rise up and throw off the chains that have bound them for so long. You will need leaders, great leaders like Geraine, whom you all know so well, and Lord Mazaret, commander of the Knights of the Fathertree, a man who fought at my father's side at Arengia and who is among us this day." He broke off as shouts went up naming himself, hands outstretched and pointing up at him, and he shook his head. "I am but a youth and only recently come into the full knowledge of my heritage - "
The shouts grew more vociferous, demands and pleas that he lead them. Watching, Mazaret muttered: "Accept the role, lad."
"He will, my lord," said Kodel at his side. "He must."
Tauric bowed his head a little, raised his hand and spoke over the noise. "If it is your will that I play a leading part, then so be it. But others shall direct the strategy of our rebellion and ensure victory. Together we shall become the Mogaun's Bane, and their vicious grasp shall be cast off forever..."
A small group near the foot of the balcony began chanting 'Emperor Tauric! Emperor Tauric!' Tauric shook his head impatiently, gesturing sharply at them with his real hand.
"No! I am not the Emperor," he said fiercely. "Nor will I lay claim to such a title until all our lands are free and the enemy has been vanquished."
Mazaret stared in amazement, seeing in the youth the same commanding nobility that his father possessed, and seeing belief and bright hope kindling in the faces of all those below. There was something almost dreamlike about the scene, as if the entire throng of Oumetrans was entranced by Tauric's straightforward honesty and direct words.
"Now," Tauric said, suddenly seeming to tire, " - return to your homes and your hearths, rest, and offer prayers to the Earthmother. The days ahead will be hard and full of struggle." He paused, gazing slowly from side to side and out across the great crowd. "But we shall prevail. Be ready." He raised one hand, his metal one, almost in a half-salute, and as the crowd roared his name he walked away from the balcony and went back inside the keep. Mazaret shook his head, simultaneously amazed and delighted and even a little unsettled.
"An astounding speech," he said. "I would not have thought Geraine able to frame such words."
"It wasn't Geraine," Kodel said.
Mazaret stared at him and the Sentinel met his gaze with one eyebrow arched. "You seem surprised, my lord."
"I cannot deny it - I am."
"There is no mystery. My parents were well-educated and greatly fond of masques, plays and other forms of stagecraft, so it was inevitable that I gained certain skills."
Both men still stood at the window, one at either side. Below, some parts of the crowd were still chanting while others began to disperse. From this vantage Mazaret could see right across the roofs of Oumetra to the far-off Rukang mountains. Their peaks were veiled in low cloud and a wall of rain which was darkening by the minute.
"Tauric told me how you rescued him from my brother and the old man," Mazaret said quietly, eyes fixed on the approaching downpour. "Did you question Coireg about the incident before you came here? I want to know why he did such a thing."
"There is little to tell," said Kodel. "The man who played his servant was an agent of this Ystregul, the one who calls himself Shadowking. He drew your brother into petty smuggling near Casall, then enslaved him with vile potions like clawseed. Such drugs affect the mind and cause the growth of dark obsessions - in his case he believes that he is responsible for your father's death. I know nothing of his past, but he is now a broken reed." There was a pause. "He is under constant guard at our holding at Grinok, but if you wish him taken to Krusivel..."
Mazaret tiredly rubbed his chin, then shook his head. "It would be better to leave him in your charge for now, while we deal with other more pressing matters. The Mogaun warlords will not let our challenge go unanswered, despite the gathering at Arengia. It is time to move swiftly."
"I agree, and to that end I have already dispatched messenger birds to the stewards of the Children's strongholds, countermanding the orders they recently received."
"And the matter of the honoured Captain Volyn?"
Kodel shrugged. "He has not been found, nor has he come forward. However, we have yet to undertake a thorough search of the canal itself - it is possible that he may be lying wounded somewhere. But I fear the worst."
"So it is your wish to reinstate the alliance between the Hunters Children and the Knights of the Fathertree?"
"I see no prospect of victory otherwise, my lord."
"It gladdens my heart to hear your words, honoured Captain." He put out his hand and the two leaders shook hands with a warrior's grasp. A feeling of elation came over Mazaret, chasing away his sombreness, and he turned to stare out at the far lands once more.
"We will topple these bandits from power," he said. "The spirit of the Earthmother will be felt again, and those dog-sorcerers will hear our battle-cry and tremble!"
Then the moment was past and the ache of his shoulder wound brought him back to present necessities.
"For now, however, I too will have to despatch messages to Krusivel and other places. The first will be to our agents in and near Hargas." He grinned. "I think that Vasegd will become too busy to devote much time to us. So, where is the bird loft you used?"
"There is one here in the Keep, my lord. Follow me - I know the way."
Power amid the darkness
Can tear souls asunder
And reforge them anew.
—The Book Of Earth And Stone
Keren Asherol felt as if she had been climbing the steep hill-path for most of her life, yet there was still strength in her legs and breath in her chest. It was the rhythm of it, the regular foot-by-foot progress, which seemed to sustain her. The path ran between a stream running swift below a sheer mass of rock to her left, and dark, impenetrable woods to her right. The pure smells of the hillside filled her nose and mouth, and roused a dormant hunger and thirst. She was about to pause and suggest a brief rest, when a pack of Wellbeasts emerged from the trees up ahead.
"Let them cover three-quarters of the distance then move aside," came Orgraaleshenoth's voice from behind her.
There was a feeling of tightening pressure around her throat, and with teeth gritted she nodded. In the four days since Suviel's and Gilly's sorcerous banishment, the Daemonkind prince had never missed an opportunity to remind her, with his invisible tether, who was master and who was the slave. After the first few instances of punishment by pain or choking, she had quickly learned not to antagonise her captor by word or deed.
Stay alive
, were the thoughts she harboured.
Survive
.