Jachen nodded dumbly.
‘Good. How old are you?’
‘I—Thirty-seven summers, my Lord.’
‘Thirty-seven eh? You share that with Count Vesna at least, though you look older. Still, you’re younger than the last, which can’t be a bad thing.’
‘The last what? Count Vesna? My Lord, I doubt many men in this palace would think I had anything in common with Count Vesna.’
‘Kerin obviously does.’
‘My Lord, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Clearly not.’ Lord Isak pointed to Jachen’s throat. ‘Loosen that top button. Perhaps you’ll think a little clearer with some blood reaching your head.’
Jachen flushed as he followed Isak’s instruction.
The white-eye beamed. ‘See, your colour’s returning already. Divinely granted infallibility is a wonderful thing.’
‘Infallibility?’ Jachen said, trying to catch up with the conversation. ‘Again, my Lord, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think such a thing has been recognised by the Cult of Nartis.’
‘Damn. Really? I’m finding it hard to tell whether I’m always right, or whether most people simply have more sense than to argue with a seven-foot giant capable of ripping a man apart with his bare hands and burning whatever is left to ashes.’ He advanced a couple of paces, close enough to reach out and touch Jachen, and peered down to inspect him.
Jachen couldn’t swallow. His throat was suddenly too dry.
‘Perhaps you’re right after all; your colour seems to have gone again. I must have been wrong.’ He stepped back and smiled. ‘Now consider this: over the last day, I have met with four men, all sent to me by Swordmaster Kerin. All of them have excellent service records, proven skills of leadership and useful political connections.’
‘I—I imagine you need to have a new commander of your guard.’ Jachen paused. ‘Oh Gods.’
‘A new commander!’ exclaimed Lord Isak with affected delight. ‘Correct! I must have been right about the collar after all. Now, what do you think Swordmaster Kerin was doing when he presented men who irritated me beyond measure?’ He raised his finger - as white as a bone in moonlight - and began pacing, looking for all the world like a schoolmaster lecturing an errant pupil, rather than one of the most powerful men in the Land.
‘Firstly, Scion Cormeh, who will soon be Suzerain Cormeh, from what I hear. I could tell from his expression that the pious little shit disapproved of my cursing; he was lucky to get out of the room without being strangled. Next, a knight from Foleh, who lacked any personality, nodded at everything and managed no more than three words in any given sentence. I can’t trust any man who’s going to follow every order I give without question - I am a bloody white-eye, after all.’
Jachen froze.
Gods, I didn’t say it out loud, did I?
Lord Isak turned like a sergeant on the parade ground and continued his lecture. ‘Then there was the colonel with the ridiculous moustache. Despite Kerin’s recommendation, the man was a complete idiot. He obviously considered my opinions worthless because I was less than half his age. The last one was . . . well, he was ugly. Very ugly. Face like a ten-week-old side of lamb. It annoyed me.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t get close enough to smell the man, but I’m confident he stank - and as you know, I’m never wrong.’
Lord Isak glanced towards the door. Jachen followed the movement, but he saw nothing untoward. The door remained steadfastly shut and he could hear nothing beyond it. When he returned his attention to Lord Isak, the white-eye was scrutinising him again.
‘Kerin gave me those four, then you. You don’t really fit with the rest of the list, so why?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jachen said with feeling. ‘The Swordmaster knows I have done
some
things right in my life, though he’s no great admirer. I led a night assault on a castle. I saved the life of the former Suzerain Danva, who showed his gratitude by buying me my commission. I also served as his hurscal for a year.’
‘Only a year?’
‘I have a history of making bad decisions.’
‘So what do you imagine were Kerin’s thoughts on the subject of including you on this list?’
Jachen took a deep breath. He was warming to Isak: the young man had an unnervingly intense air about him, but Jachen was beginning to enjoy the luminary presence of his lord. Either that, or abject terror had made him light-headed.
Probably best not to speculate which
. ‘A counter-point to the others, no doubt. If you are making a choice, variety is always preferable.’
‘Does that strike you as like the man?’
‘No, not really,’ Jachen admitted. ‘Swordmaster Kerin’s too clever for that.’
‘So why send me men likely to annoy me?’
‘To direct your choice towards the one he wants.’
‘And that would be you?’
‘I’d say I’ve managed to annoy you at least as much as the others, so who comes after me?’
Lord Isak grinned. ‘You might be right there, but there’s no one else. Any other thoughts?’
Jachen hesitated.
A history of bad decisions. Oh well, all or nothing here.
‘That you’re hellish to serve, dismissing perfectly competent officers for no good reason. You want a commander who suits your eccentricity, but is experienced in battle and able to think on his feet.’
‘How many think when they’re on their back?’ Lord Isak countered, his grin widening.
‘Quite; you also need a commander who understands your puerile sense of humour. Lastly, that a sensible man would have to be desperate to take the post because there’s a good chance of being run through or blasted by the wrath of the heavens, or both, even.’ He dared a breath. Isak was still smiling. In fact, the Duke of Tirah appeared decidedly pleased.
Perhaps Kerin has got this right after all,
Jachen thought hesitantly.
With Count Vesna at his side, Lord Isak doesn’t need the best tactician in the army, nor a champion as commander of his guard. He needs a man he can stand to speak to every day as much as anything.
‘It’s a fair point,’ the white-eye replied. ‘Do you know what my last commander did when he thought I was making the wrong decision? He clouted me round the head in public. For that I almost squeezed the life out of him. Do you think you could do the same if you thought it was right? Do you still want this post?’
‘I don’t ever remember wanting this post, my Lord. Certainly I don’t know whether I’d have the guts to face you down from doing something stupid, but I’ll take it if you’ll have me. Maybe I do want a chance to prove myself again.’
‘Only maybe?’
‘Maybe I just don’t care any more.’ The comment came out with the flippancy of truth before Jachen could bite it back.
Lord Isak’s expression fell. He looked grave.
Damn. How much did I really mean that?
‘I hope that’s not the case. I need a man to temper the flames of my anger, not let them run amok. Don’t you have any family to prove yourself to?’
‘Don’t think there’s much hope there,’ Jachen sighed. ‘In any case, I’ve served long enough to know that there’s only one person you can prove anything to and that’s yourself. Men who look to be heroes are usually the dead ones.’
‘Good. Tell me one thing: what exactly did you do to get in Kerin’s bad books in the first place?’
Jachen grimaced. ‘In the first place would be going back a ways, but what the men hate me for is leaving my post. I abandoned my regiment for the sake of my wife and daughter.’
‘Did they survive?’
‘Of the regiment? A few.’
‘I meant your family,’ said Lord Isak.
‘My daughter did. She hates me for a coward, like the rest of the tribe.’
‘Most men would want to justify what they’d just said.’
‘It’s my tale, and mine to tell as much of it as I want.’ Jachen couldn’t help sounding petulant as he said it. The insinuation in Isak’s voice had been obvious, and Jachen had risen to it.
‘True. I’m just intrigued when a man makes so little effort to defend his actions, especially when he has been recommended by one of the most respected soldiers in the Land. Kerin’s covered himself well, though; he’s not formally suggested you, merely arranged a meeting. That way no one can complain about being passed over, and he doesn’t get in trouble if I hate you. About which, by the way, Major Jachen Ansayl, I’m still undecided. ’
‘Ah, Lord Isak, might I make a request?’ Jachen said, hesitantly. ‘Could I ask that you call me Major Jachen, or even just Jachen? I realise it’s informal, but there’ll be enough men reminding me I’m a bastard without you doing so.’
‘Done -but I still might call you one from time to time.’
Before Jachen could think of a suitable reply, there came a sharp rap on the door behind him, and a dazzling young woman strode in without waiting for a response. She spared him a puzzled glance before falling into a graceful but perfunctory curtsey. She looked as if she was about to attend High Reverence at the Temple: her white dress was spotless and a silk scarf was draped over her arm, as if ready to cover three of the four beautiful charms pinned into her lustrous braided hair (after all, no one would go into Nartis’ Temple leaving uncovered devices of Triena, Goddess of Fidelity, Ial, an Aspect of Ilit, and Anarie, Goddess of Calm Glades, an Aspect of Amavoq). With a stab of guilt, Jachen realised that Anarie was the only God he had prayed to in the last few years. She’d not answered.
‘My Lord, it is time.’
He sighed. ‘Of course - but Tila, first I want you to meet the new commander of my personal guard, Major Jachen Ansayl, who prefers to be called Major Jachen. Jachen, this is Tila Introl, my political advisor. I suggest you keep your temper around her. Lady Tila’s tongue is barbed and she lacks my sweet temper.’
‘Major Jachen.’ The woman acknowledged him with an incline of her beautiful head. Her long lashes fluttered down, and Jachen felt as if she had recorded every detail of his person in an instant, from the scuff marks on his boots to the missing button on his cuff. His head skipped a beat when her rich brown eyes met his own, then ached at her frosty words as she continued, ‘Your reputation precedes you.’ She made no attempt to hide her disapproval as she dismissed Jachen with a flick of the head.
She turned to Lord Isak. ‘I doubt the men will accept him.’ ‘That’s his problem,’ he replied. ‘If he can’t lead them, then he’s no use to me. He told me about abandoning his men, but I think he’s worth a second chance.’
‘Did he tell you everything? That he was a mercenary for years, fighting for Duke Vrerr, and other thugs? That he once slaughtered a castle’s entire garrison when it surrendered—’
‘Hold on there!’ Jachen broke in, suddenly finding his voice. ‘That’s a lie. We wiped them out, yes, but no man of that garrison ever asked for quarter. If they fight to the last, you don’t get a choice about taking prisoners.’
Tila shrugged. ‘The truth won’t matter in the barracks. As you say, my Lord, it’s his problem. The Synod awaits you.’
Lord Isak gave an exasperated sigh and gestured for Tila to lead the way. Jachen followed them like a lost child. Every dozen steps they were interrupted by people greeting Isak, most formal, but a few more friendly -at one corner he was set upon by flurry of liveried clerks, warning him Chief Steward Lesarl was searching for him. Jachen was ignored by everyone, lost in his new master’s shadow. That suited him fine. From there he could observe the Land as Isak strode through it like a catalyst, affecting everyone he passed.
But if that’s true, what have I got myself into? You’re a damn fool, Jachen,
he thought.
Next time, first find out what happened to the last man who did the job.
The Chief Steward came upon them moments after his clerks. His formal clothes indicated Lesarl had important meetings this morning, yet he still managed to retain his customary air of dishevelment and disorder. Beyond a sharp look at Jachen -unsurprising, considering his reputation -he said nothing, but led Isak into a small office. Jachen, with no further orders, followed behind. As he watched the exchange between the two men, he wondered if there was any truth to the rumours that the men detested each other. He could see nothing untoward; Lesarl was a prickly, brusque man as far as Jachen knew, but the Chief Steward’s manner was sufficiently deferential. It was widely known that Lesarl treated some suzerains with open contempt, but here gossip appeared to be growing its own fertile ground. He could discern no truth to any of it.
‘Since you’re calling the nobles to Tirah,’ Lesarl said, standing close to the white-eye, as if to a long-time confidant, ‘I’ve set the investiture ceremony for two months’ time. It’s a rare event, so we might as well make the most of it and have all the suzerains there. After getting the Synod’s approval you have a number of other meetings.’ Lesarl nodded towards Jachen. ‘You might want to think about whether you take him in to all of them; you don’t trust him as you do Carel.’
‘It appears I’m the only person who didn’t know he was a candidate for the position,’ Lord Isak said pointedly. ‘Perhaps I should be asking
you
whether I can trust him.’
‘My Lord, of course Kerin asked my opinion, and I have no objection -if I had, the Swordmaster would not have put him in front of you. As it is, I always suspect folk who covet a position of influence. Far better to find an unknown man you consider useful.’ He acknowledged Jachen with a cold smile. ‘Easier to kill this one too, if he’s not up to the job.’
Isak snorted. ‘Let’s give him a week or two first. What about these other meetings?’
‘Principal ministers, the City Council, the Honourable Association of Merchants, and then later tonight my coterie.’
‘Coterie?’ Isak asked.
Lesarl gave Jachen a warning look as he explained, ‘My personal -let us call them advisors. They hold no actual position, and you will never see them at meetings, but they are integral to keeping the nation running. You need never speak to them again, but it is right you meet them and know their faces and their skills. That you will do alone, for their identities remain a state secret. Whilst it is rumoured abroad that I have my own network of spies, if I discover Major Jachen has been talking about my coterie, he’ll disappear -and not just up a mountain this time.’