Legana turned and squinted in the direction Nanter indicated. There were four figures standing on the edge of the square, facing her. With the sky bright behind them she could make out little detail, but none wore hoods, and even her weak eyesight could make out the copper tint to their hair.
‘It’s time I left you alone,’ Nanter announced, accepting the empty goblet from Legana as she stood. ‘I thank you for your offer. Many folk hereabouts will be most glad of your help.’
Legana retrieved her silver-headed cane from the ground and used it to push herself upright, giving Nanter a smile of thanks. The woman half-curtseyed and fled, leaving Legana to walk, a little unsteadily, towards the newcomers.
‘You are the one they call the Hand of Fate?’ croaked the one at the head of the group, clearly an old woman.
‘
Not to my face
,’ Legana said directly into the woman’s mind. ‘
What they refer to was not made by Fate.
’
She lifted the white silk scarf tied around her neck so the former priestess could see the shadowy handprint made by Aracnan.
‘I have never known a sister to be a mage before,’ said another of the women, sounding as old as the first.
As Legana moved a few steps closer, to see their faces more clearly, one of the remaining two stepped around the priestess, her hand on the hilt of her shortsword. She was the tallest of the four, as tall as Legana, and built for fighting, though she was young enough still to be a novice.
‘
I was not, until the Lady made me her Mortal-Aspect
,’ Legana replied. ‘
She called me nothing more than Legana. I would keep that sword in its sheath
,’ she added, nodding towards the youngest, ‘
the Lady chose me because I was the best of her devotees
—
however damaged my body looks, I am faster than any mortal.
’
‘Step aside, Dainiss,’ the first woman said, placing a hand on her protector’s arm.
As Legana’s eyes adjusted to the light she saw the old woman’s face was a mass of wrinkles, her skin a leathery-brown that spoke of a lifetime in the sun, but she could make out little more, and she couldn’t place the woman’s origin.
‘I can sense our Goddess’ flame within her; she is not the fraud we expected,’ the woman said, musingly.
Legana watched the old woman, wondering how she was going to react to that statement, but the priestess did nothing but stare. After a while it became apparent that both sides were waiting for the other to explain themselves. Legana felt the impatience well up inside her. No doubt the old priestess had been a temple-mistress in her time, and had outwaited many a stubborn novice, though Legana was sure she would win that game, even against one so practiced.
‘
Have you come to join us?
’ she asked.
‘What is it you are doing here?’
‘
Looking for new purpose. The Lady is dead but her followers are not, and all we’ve ever had is each other. Some may wish to forget about their family and start afresh, but not I.’
‘You would appoint yourself our queen? Our Goddess?’
‘I appoint myself nothing, but like it or not, I carry the spark that binds us. There are only a few of our sisters here yet, but several have been permanently affected by the death of Fate. Those who were praying at the time of her murder were harmed in the mind and they need the protection of their sisters. I intend to gather as many as I can and take stock. Only then will we be able to find our way forward. Only then will we have a chance to find a new purpose.
’
The old priestess pursed her lips as she thought. No doubt she was wary of everything since the death of their Goddess.
‘
You don’t need to decide now,
’ Legana continued, ‘
come with me to the castle and meet the others. They would be glad of a priestess here.’
She gestured for them to follow and turned towards Camatayl Castle. After a moment she heard footsteps. Though she set a slow pace, Legana walked alone, feeling their eyes bore into her back with every step.
When she reached the castle Shanas, one of the devotees she had first arrived with, ran up and informed her that King Emin had been looking for her.
‘
I thought as much,
’ Legana said, gesturing at the activity within the normally sleepy courtyard. ‘
He will soon have need of us.’
There were hundreds of men in the castle now, soldiers and workmen alike, the latter labouring to erect new buildings within the embrace of the castle walls: temporary barracks for the troops that would soon be passing through the area. A few regiments were already camped up against the outer walls, along with a large number of messengers. Flying from the main tower were half a dozen flags now — another two had been added during the day.
‘
My sisters,
’ she said, rounding on the devotees following her, ‘
I’m needed elsewhere. Shanas here will take you to the others. King Emin had granted us rooms in the gate-tower
—
it’s not much, but as you can see, space is limited. His hospitality isn’t charity, and if you wish to stay it will be on my terms.’
‘And what are those?’ demanded the priestess.
‘
Use of what skills we possess,
’ Legana said, ‘
and a guarantee from me that his secrets will be kept. I advise you not to test that; the devotees here have already made their choice.’
Before any of the four had the chance to argue Legana turned her back on them and headed for the main tower. There were now green-and-gold liveried members of the Kingsguard posted throughout the castle, but she was admitted without challenge and made her way up to the room where she’d first discussed a bargain with the king. This time he barely even looked up as she entered.
King Emin had chosen Camatayl Castle as his base of operations for the coming year, leaving his queen and newborn son in the relative safety of Narkang. He wore a ceremonial version of the Kingsguard uniform and a hat to match it that looked gaudy even to Legana’s weak, greying vision.
‘What about there?’ he asked the man beside him, a decrepit old relic in a faded uniform.
The man’s cheeks were scarred by drink and his uniform hung loose on his body. The dull gold braiding from shoulder to cuff on one sleeve indicated he was a general in the Narkang Army, the creasing suggested he had been retired for a while now. There were two other men looking over the map, both much younger, who sported the same braiding, and Legana guessed them to be newly promoted.
‘Good ground, yes,’ said the old general, with a cautious glance at the newcomer, ‘but the river all along that stretch is impassable. There are only two bridges of use to us for more than a hundred miles. You’d need a local in command or they could get trapped.’
‘It’s worth the risk, within striking distance of the city. Three divisions, under your personal command. If the city falls you pull back past the river and the south bank is your boundary. Remember, hit-and-run is our mantra: constant movement, and no engagement where it is expected.’
King Emin at last tore himself away from the map and directed Legana towards an elderly, rather shambolic-looking nobleman escorted by a bored-looking Kingsguard. The pale, rather portly man sat at a small desk peering at another map that had been stretched out and held at the corners with brass weights. Alongside was a jumble of papers on which he was writing notes. The king had been expecting his arrival for a few days now; this was his uncle, Anversis Halis, an academic who had been recording and modelling the movements of the Harlequins for years.
Only recently had the king become interested in the work, though he was aware of most of the research being conducted within his borders, interesting or otherwise. It wasn’t the first time the king had been able to harness knowledge of this kind for military use. Legana didn’t know if they all got guards, but the king had been less than complimentary about his uncle’s discretion, so she guessed it was as much to keep him out of trouble as anything else.
Legana made her way over and stood in silence at the table until Halis noticed her.
He gave a gasp of shock. ‘Blessed song of seasons!’ he exclaimed, half-falling off his chair. But he soon recovered himself and it wasn’t long before Halis was peering up at her face with utter fascination. ‘You, ah, you are . . .’ he stuttered.
Legana inclined her head and the words died unsaid in his throat, but the acknowledgement didn’t appear to diminish his curiosity. He even went so far as to edge around the table to get a little closer, but that just prompted Legana to back away.
—
Stop staring or I’ll blind you
, she wrote on her slate eventually.
The man gave a squawk and retreated to his seat. ‘Ah, my apologies, Mistress Legana. There are so many questions running through my head that I hardly know where to begin.’
Legana scowled, her fingers flexing around the silver head of her cane. It took a while, but the man eventually got the message that she was not going to answer questions and turned his attention back to the map.
‘Ah, here is the working plan. The, um, subjects follow a reasonably simple path through the Land, as one might expect. They are only human, after all, and they are subject to the same habits as the rest of us.’
—
How many?
‘In total?’ Halis frowned at her. ‘It is impossible to tell for sure. King Emin assures me they have home clans and will return there periodically, but for how long is impossible to calculate, as is the incidence of their passing being reported to me.’
—
How is that done?
He glanced away uneasily at the king, but at that moment Legana’s balance failed her again and she swayed forward, grabbing the table with both hands to steady herself. Halis went even whiter and raised his hands protectively, as though she was going to strike him.
‘A network of academics throughout the Land,’ Halis blurted out, misreading her actions entirely. ‘They study the writings of Verliq and aid the research of their fellows wherever possible.’
‘And what kind fellows they are too,’ added King Emin, joining them. He looked at her, concerned, but she waved it away and he didn’t comment further.
‘You will have heard of Verliq’s Children, I assume? As I have reminded my uncle here, my patronage and assistance over the years has been invaluable to them, and I fully expect them to be delighted to assist our midsummer operation.’
‘Delighted?’ spluttered Halis.
King Emin raised a hand to stop him saying any more. ‘I choose to believe they are delighted. They are, of course, not men of action, but I want this to be kept separate from my principal spy network, which has quite enough to keep it busy at present. To bolster numbers Legana has agreed to recruit for me among her sisters, both for the operation itself and the logistics of putting it into practice.’
—
How many?
‘To kill? Our aim is a hundred; we know we will not get them all, but that should still disrupt this current phase of the shadow’s plan.’ Emin pursed his lips in thought and stared down at the map. ‘I have had news from Byora; we were not successful in our goal. At the same time it was not a complete disaster, and our casualties were acceptable.’ He hesitated. ‘You can tell your sisters that the killer of their Goddess is dead.’
Legana felt her knees tremble and another wave of dizziness washed over her, but she fought it, and managed to keep herself upright.
Aracnan was dead
. She had been expecting this news at some point, ever since Doranei’s comrade, Sebe, had managed to wound the mercenary, but still the news caught her off-guard.
Anger and satisfaction clashed inside her. There was some frustration that it had been done by another, despite King Emin’s assurances that his end would have been painful. What more did she want? What more could she ask for?
Nothing. There is nothing more
, she realised.
All I can do now is ensure his deeds do not define me any more than they must.
— Thank you. How many sisters?
she forced herself to write, ignoring the unsteadiness of the script.
To Emin’s credit he continued with only a questioning look at her expression. ‘As many as possible, more than we can manage,’ he said. ‘Some will have to leave today — we are limited by the distances involved — but some of Uncle Anversis’ colleagues have faster methods of communication so we may be able to hire mercenaries, if nothing else. There is an additional matter, however. Doranei has reported preachers being sent out by the child, Ruhen. They are now secondary targets.’
—
Does it suspect?
‘There is no indication of that,’ Emin said, his worry-lines deepening at the suggestion. ‘The reports we’re getting suggest Harlequins are laying the foundations for these preachers, adding legitimacy to what will follow. The agents I have here and those easily contacted will be sent furthest afield.’ Emin picked up a sheet from the pile of paper his uncle had been making notes on. ‘This designates the place and the local contact. The particular agents will be assigned here, and the page will be encoded and copied before it leaves this room.’