‘A good idea,’ Isak said with a smile. ‘I think Lesarl can spare me for a few weeks yet.’ Off past the suzerain, he saw a frown cross Vesna’s face. The count was listening idly to a knight on his right, but his concentration was on Isak and the suzerain.
Old maid
, thought Isak.
He worries about everything if I’ve not discussed it with him already.
‘We will stay a fortnight,’ he went on. ‘I doubt Carel will be able to travel by then, but I want to see him stronger before I go. And I have a few matters that I want to attend to before I return.’
‘Plans, my Lord?’ The suzerain’s interest was piqued, especially as he saw Tila’s puzzlement.
‘Plans, my Lord Suzerain,’ Isak confirmed with a broad smile. ‘The tribe is run by its dukes and its suzerains, and if I am to rule, I should meet them -half of those I already knew have died in battle, and I’m planning to hang Duke Certinse in front of a crowd. Suzerain, I would like you to gather messengers ready to send out a proclamation. My advisor here will have it ready in a day or two.’ Isak twitched his fingers in Tila’s direction -he didn’t let Tila’s ignorance of his plans interrupt his flow. ‘I intend every suzerain and duke to gather in Tirah Palace and swear fealty to me at my coronation ceremony.’
A slight gasp ran around the room at that, and all attempts to pretend conversation stopped as Isak took another swig of wine and continued, ‘There’s been too much treachery, too much plotting in recent years. I want each and every one of my most powerful nobles to swear an oath of loyalty. If they refuse, I’ll know where they stand; if they look me in the eye and lie, I’ll break them in half and feed them to the pigs.’
Isak spoke with such vehemence that more than a few flinched. From next to Tila Isak heard Suzerain Torl clear his throat to break the silence.
‘That will be a difficult undertaking, my Lord,’ Suzerain Torl murmured. ‘Some are old and infirm; many will have a long way to travel.’
Isak gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘If they wish to present their apologies instead, I’ll leave it up to my Chief Steward to decide who has a valid excuse . . . and who should be stripped of their title.’ Isak gave a dangerous grin. ‘I think recent events have proved that divisions remain, but that cannot continue. We will make a festival of it. Business will be done and matches made, no doubt. I’m sure most of the suzerains will have requests to present to me as well, and they will be heard, but any who consider the journey a waste of time I shall consider a wasted title. The Chetse have been conquered, the Fysthrall have returned and who knows how many new enemies we will find ourselves with come the end of the year.’
Isak saw Tila tense slightly at that.
Damn,
he thought,
I didn’t mean
him
-but you’ve got a point all the same. How long until the Elves discover their king is reborn? Long enough I hope; I don’t want to be fighting on too many fronts all at once.
Looking around, Isak saw worried faces, men dropping their eyes as Isak’s glittering gaze swept over the tables. A handful were nodding their agreement, but most just looked shocked. It was understandable, Isak reflected. Lord Bahl had ruled for almost two hundred years, and while he had sometimes been unpredictable, the man had largely left his nobles to their own devices. Now they had an arrogant young pup who wore dark tidings like a cloak announcing two hundred years of tradition was about to change. Perhaps they were right to look nervous. He was a white-eye, after all, and wherever he went trouble tended to follow.
Isak stood, motioning the others back down as they rose with him. Hooking two fingers around the neck of the half-empty decanter, he excused himself to Suzerain Saroc and his countess. He knew he was being rude, but he didn’t want to be drawn further on the subject tonight; his sour temper and too much wine might lead him to say something he didn’t intend. Now he wanted a chance to hear what his advisors had to say before discussing the matter further.
Making his way out of the hall, Isak followed the corridor to the terrace that overlooked the suzerain’s formal garden, apparently in the Tor Milist style. Mihn was on his heel, as normal. He crossed the terrace and felt the lush dew-kissed grass underneath his shoes and breathed in the smell of evening blooms.
The suzerain was proud of his gardens, and though the concept remained alien to Isak, who knew nothing of such things, in the warm gloom of twilight and lit by scattered paper lanterns, he had to agree that the sight before him was beautiful. Low yew hedges sectioned off the long garden, each enclosing a different style. Thin swirls of flowerbeds cut paths through the grass, blazing with the colours of summer, but it was the stillness that Isak savoured the most.
A dwarf apple tree the height of Isak’s chest stood at the centre of a piece of lawn, flanked by slender stone birdbaths. Resting the decanter on the nearest, Isak fumbled in his pocket for Carel’s tobacco pouch; the countess had forbidden it to the veteran. Soon, the thick smell of pipe-smoke was drifting through the slender branches of the apple tree and fading to nothing in the darkening sky. Isak inspected the snow-white skin of his hand. It hadn’t changed at all since the battle in Narkang, where lightning had burned the colour from it. Not even weeks of riding with it exposed to the sun had tanned it.
‘Had you planned that?’ asked Mihn quietly, having checked for anyone who might overhear their conversation.
‘Of course.’
‘Then why did Lady Tila and the count look quite so surprised? ’
Isak sighed. ‘Because I’d not planned to announce it quite like that. Did it just sound like the ranting of a drunk?’
Mihn shook his head. ‘No, it was a little more eloquent. There will be serious opposition, though, even from your supporters.’
‘Good, that’s the point.’ Isak jabbed the pipe towards the high roof of the hall. ‘Most of the Farlan legions are led by fat, contented old men. If they object to a trip to Tirah, they’ll be of no use on campaign. They need waking up, Mihn, our blades have become dulled.’
‘What threat is it you want them to be ready for?’ Mihn sounded unconcerned, but Isak could tell the man was worried by the fact they were conversing at all. He would go several days on end without speaking a word to Isak -when Mihn deemed conversation necessary, Isak knew that he’d damned well better pay attention.
‘Take your pick. I don’t think there’s any way to tell yet, but Lord Bahl wasn’t killed by accident. If Morghien and King Emin are to be believed, this is all some artifice of Azaer’s - or it might be Lord Styrax, building himself an empire. And we must not give the White Circle time to regroup -they all add up to one thing: we must be prepared for war.’
‘You intend to punish the White Circle?’
Isak shrugged. ‘They brought the fight to us; what can I do except strike back?’
‘There are ways to strike back that don’t involve razing Scree and Helrect to the ground.’
‘Is that what you’re worried about? My lack of proportion?’ Isak took a sip of wine and screwed up his face. The wine didn’t go with the bitter soldier’s tobacco Carel preferred. He turned to look Mihn in the eye: the northerner’s usual passivity was gone completely and he matched Isak’s gaze without blinking or turning away as he normally would.
‘Spreading chaos on our borders may not serve you well, not if chaos is what your enemies want. If there is another way to deal with the Circle, will you promise to consider it?’
Isak blinked. ‘That’s the first time you’ve asked me for anything. ’
‘All I ask is that you do not start the war, that you do not let yourself be goaded into fighting on the wrong front.’
After a moment’s pause, Isak held out his arm for Mihn to take. ‘All you’re asking is for me to promise to act sensibly; it’s a more than fair request.’ The smaller man bobbed his head in acknowledgement, returning to his customary reserve.
Isak stopped, hand still gripped about Mihn’s forearm, and looked Mihn straight in the eye. Curiosity flickered over Mihn’s face, but he had patience enough to outlast a glacier. Isak looked away briefly, then rubbed his hand over his face, as if to sober up a little more.
‘You might not like what else I’ve decided quite so much.’ He could almost feel the quiet of the night, and found himself peering around at the shadows, unwilling to continue until he was sure they were not being spied on. He couldn’t feel anything; it was only his muzzy brain and his innate sense of caution.
‘I want you and Morghien to fetch Xeliath for me, to bring her back to Tirah. It won’t be long until someone works out her part in what happened, and when that happens, she’ll not live long. She knows Morghien, and you, I assume, can speak Yeetatchen. I have no one else I could ask such a thing of.’
Mihn was quiet for a moment, then he bowed his head. ‘If she is that important to you, I will do it.’
‘I don’t know how important she is to me,’ Isak said honestly. ‘I’ve only spoken to her a handful of times. All I know is that she’ll be another casualty of my existence - of my twisted destiny -if I leave her to her own fate. The blood of another innocent on my hands.’
He took a draw on the pipe, only to find it was out. He jabbed his thumb into the pipe bowl and hissed as he discovered the embers were hotter than he’d expected. He wiped his thumb on his tunic, leaving a smear of ash on the white fabric. ‘Speaking of blood on my hands, it’s time to check on Carel.’
CHAPTER 5
‘Xomejx? That’s a long way to go for a girl you hardly know,’ Morghien said. ‘I know she’s a pretty young thing—’
‘She’s in danger and I can hardly go myself,’ Isak said, raising a hand to cut Morghien off. ‘I need you to go because she knows you, and she can reach your mind.’
‘But I don’t speak Yeetatchen -never been there in all my years of travelling.’
‘Well here’s a chance to correct that oversight. As for the language problems, Mihn is going with you and I’m sure he’ll manage to pick up a few words.’
Isak squinted up at the old wanderer and grinned. He was stretched out on the grass in the suzerain’s private garden, dressed in only a thin shirt and cropped trousers that looked more suitable for a dock worker than a duke. An eight-foot stone wall surrounded the garden, so he’d donned the shirt only when Morghien arrived -he hated displaying the scar on his chest, even to those close to him. Morghien knew the truth about his snow-white left arm, so Isak didn’t worry about trying to keep that from sight.
He had declined the invitation to go hawking with the suzerain and his fellow guests, determined to spend at least one day out of the saddle. Instead, he had spent the morning lying on the grass, a cushion under his head, and a cup of apple juice to hand, enjoying the birds and butterflies swarming over the countess’ flowers. A book lay unopened at his side and a grey-muzzled hunting hound, the suzerain’s favourite, stretched out untidily at his feet. The dog might be too old to go hunting with its master, but it was more than willing to spend a lazy day being pampered by Isak.
Unable to summon the effort to get up properly, Isak indicated Morghien should sit. He was dressed in fresh leathers and a new shirt, a gift from the countess, whose delicate sensibilities were offended by his own filthy, tattered clothes. It was a scrubbed, shaved and nearly presentable Morghien who sat now before Isak, though the overall effect was still one of slightly dishevelled elegance. Morghien reminded the white-eye of his Chief Steward, whose fine clothes always looked untidy and rumpled, simply because he was the one wearing them.
And that’s not the only similarity,
Isak thought.
Perhaps I should keep Morghien with me just to keep Lesarl off-balance when I return to Tirah.
Morghien cupped the hound’s whiskery muzzle in his hand and wiped a trace of sleep from the corner of its eye with a deft movement. ‘I’ve not visited the Yeetatchen for a reason. They don’t like outsiders -they are a most inhospitable people.’
‘Do you think I would be more welcome?’
Morghien shrugged; there was no need to comment. Isak shifted a little to see the man’s face a little better, prompting a reproachful look from the dog, now wedged against his hip. Stroking the grey fur, Isak wondered what he needed to say to persuade Morghien. Mihn had accepted the charge easily, as he accepted any order from Isak, but that was because the penance Mihn had imposed upon himself for failing in his life’s calling appeared to include indulging the whims of a white-eye, no matter how ludicrous. The journey would be long, hard and dangerous -the Yeetatchen were notorious in their dislike of all outsiders, not just Farlan.
‘It’s not a political delegation -if Lord Leteil discovers why you’re there, he’ll kill you both, along with Xeliath.’
‘You are sure of that?’
‘He’s a white-eye, isn’t he? Xeliath has a Crystal Skull, and if he finds out about that I can’t see any other possible outcome, can you? It’s not going to be easy, but I am quite sure you could think of
something
that might compensate you for the trouble.’
‘Rewards are no good to a dead man,’ snorted Morghien. He ran a hand through his own grey hair, as rough and wiry as the dog’s coat.
‘Don’t die then!’ Isak snapped back. ‘You’ve managed it thus far! I wasn’t offering you gold - though that’s easily given if it’s all you want -I assumed you’d want some sort of a favour in return.’
‘You assume you have something I want,’ Morghien replied coolly.
‘Correct. I don’t know exactly what your relationship with King Emin is, but I know you’ve got plans for the future, and I suspect my involvement would be helpful. Just what you are up to is your own business -for the time being, at least. I’m caught up in quite enough plots as it is.’ He sighed. ‘I assume it has something to do with Azaer, so I think we would both benefit from our alliance.’ He felt rather than saw Morghien tense at the name.
The dog whined as Isak pulled himself to a seating position. His massive body cast a shadow that almost completely enveloped the wanderer. ‘Decide now whether you want my friendship or not. Emin already has, but I’ve yet to decide which one of you is truly in control of whatever bargain you two have going. I suspect you
were
-Emin said you met before he took over Narkang, and that happened when he was my age -but that man’s too clever to still be taking anyone’s orders for long. So enough of the games. I need this of you. Will you do it?’ Isak spat in his hand and held it out.