by Tom Lloyd
‘We might have to put up with him for the time being.’ Isak took a deep breath and signalled the guards at the end of the corridor. ‘It’s time; I don’t want them to wait any longer.’
The soldiers pulled open the doors as he reached them. As Isak entered the Great Hall, Lesarl on his heel, he was met by a gust of warm, smoky air and a buzz of voices that lessened as soon as he stepped inside. The place looked completely different: the walls were now adorned with banners of all colours, the crests of every Farlan suzerain, all dominated by a central flag three times the size of any other - Isak’s crowned dragon. It was displayed behind the heavy ducal throne in the middle of the room, facing the enormous fire on the other side.
The throne was an oversized seat carved from a single enormous tree-trunk. The dark wood was highly polished, and the sides were thick enough to stop an axe. The raised back was taller than a standing man. Though there were symbols of the Gods and the Farlan set into the throne in silver, gold and jet, the overriding impression was of strength and size rather than splendour.
Isak took a moment to inspect the crowd as the assembled men turned to face him. In a ripple flowing towards the back of the room, the nobles sank to one knee, their sword-hilts raised up in front of their faces. The assorted priests bowed. It was a riot of colour: the Farlan loved ceremony and ritual, and the noblemen of all ages took great pleasure in sporting the very best of their finery on occasions like this. On his left were the assorted clerics of the Farlan, with the Synod placed closest to the vacant ducal throne. Opposite them, the Dukes of Merlat and Perlir took prime position.
Beside the Duke of Perlir there was a conspicuously empty seat, and Isak could see a few people squinting around, almost as if the deceased Duke Certinse was about to make a dramatic entrance. Count Vesna, dressed in full formal regalia, stood beside the throne itself. He had not moved an inch. The silver gorget bearing Isak’s crest that Vesna wore over his armour indicated that he was one of Isak’s personal guard, ceremonially, at least, and that excused him bowing.
‘Duke Tirah,’ called High Cardinal Echer in a thin, wasted voice. He scuttled over from the centre of the room and bowed a second time. Isak remembered the first time they had met, when he had presented himself humbly before the Synod. Then, Echer had been a feeble old man who had deferred to another cardinal; now, Isak could feel a thread of magic running through the man’s body, easing the pains of age and lending a ghastly animation to his lined face. How long he could last like that was anyone’s guess, but until Lesarl came up with something to aid nature’s course, the frail old man had been transformed into a spitting, remorseless fanatic.
‘The leaders of the Farlan greet you and honour you,’ Echer continued, ‘Chosen of Nartis, blessed above mortals.’
Isak could see a bloody welt on his cheek, contrasting with the rest of his skin, which was so pale it was almost translucent. The toll was already showing and Isak felt a wave of revulsion at the sight. It made him think of necromancy… He forced himself to put such thoughts to one side and concentrate on the moment. He gave a shallow bow.
Echer advanced and grabbed the front of Isak’s tunic with one skeletal hand. ‘Do you serve no master but your patron and Death himself?’ he asked, his wavering voice at odds with the fierce light burning in his eyes.
‘I serve Nartis and Death alone,’ Isak replied.
As soon as he had spoken, Echer tugged and they both took a step towards the throne. Lesarl had explained the tradition: the new lord was taking his place upon his throne reluctantly, each step reminding him of the heavy responsibilities of office. Isak couldn’t imagine Lord Bahl going through this same process - his predecessor had become Lord of the Farlan after killing Lord Atro in a close-fought running battle that had destroyed entire streets in Tirah - and the victorious Bahl had then had to bury the love of his life, the white-eye Ineh. Isak was pretty sure any priest trying to manhandle him, ceremonially or not, would have died in a heartbeat.
Echer’s next question brought Isak back to the present. ‘Do you declare your hatred for all daemons of Ghenna?’
‘I do.’
Another step. Isak felt the hum of magic through Echer, and his fingertips itched to embrace his own power. In the distant part of his mind where he had banished Aryn Bwr’s spirit, he heard the dead Elven king scream and howl for murder to be done.
‘Do you swear to lead the warriors of your tribe; to protect your people with strength and blood?’
A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered Bahl’s words when he’d given Isak the blue hood of Nartis to wear: ‘Your blood, your pain, shed for people and Gods who neither know of it nor care.’
‘I do.’
‘Do you swear to show reverence to all Gods and follow their teachings as an example to your people?’
Make your fucking mind up, renounce or revere? ‘I do.’ I know you’ll be reminding me of that before the week is out. I wonder how many ridiculous laws he’ll be asking me to enact?
‘Do you swear to show mercy to the faithful?’
‘I do.’ Except you, you twisted old bastard.
‘Do you swear to punish heretics and enemies of the tribe with the fury of the storm?’
‘I do.’
That last question took Isak up to the ducal throne. Count Vesna saluted him stiffly and held out a velvet cushion on which sat a circlet of silver and gold.
High Cardinal Echer peered up at Isak for a moment, sly glee on his crumpled face. Isak sat and Echer plucked the circlet from the cushion and held it up for everyone in the room to see.
‘Isak Stormcaller,’ he proclaimed, ‘Chosen of Nartis, Duke of Tirah: the Synod of the Farlan acknowledges your claim to the title Lord of the Farlan as valid. The line of the Farlan kings has ended and we accept no majesty other than that of the Gods, yet this circlet signifies you are Lord of all Farlan. I call on all Farlan, noble and low-born, to kneel before you and acknowledge your rule over them.’
Every man in the room went on one knee and echoed, ‘Lord of all Farlan,’ even Count Vesna - although he kept his eyes raised and his sword-hand ready.
A moment later, as arranged, the Dukes of Merlat and Perlir stepped out of the crowd and moved to either side of the High Cardinal. They both bowed, then the Duke of Merlat, as the elder of the two, stepped forward and knelt in front of Isak with the hilt of his sword held towards his lord. Isak touched a finger to the pommel and he withdrew as the Duke of Perlir stepped forward to repeat the formal greeting.
Finally Isak settled back on the throne and looked around the room in what he hoped was a suitably dignified manner before gesturing that everyone should get off their knees. He inclined his head to the dukes and they sat, followed shortly thereafter by the entire room.
‘Duke Lokan, Duke Sempes, I thank you for the honour you do me,’ Isak said smoothly. I beg a boon from you both.’
The unexpected words made the High Cardinal’s nose twitch with irritation, but he had enough sense left to know he could not interrupt.
‘My Lord,’ Lokan replied smoothly, ‘ask it, and if it is in our powers, we shall grant it.’
Isak inclined his head again. ‘My thanks to you both. As you are aware, there is a vacant seat here, for Lomin has no duke and there is argument over who should fill the post. I intend to appoint the son of the last Duke of Lomin as heir, to dispel this confusion. I call upon all those present to witness this - for the good of the tribe I appoint Major Belir Ankremer to the title of duke. My Lords, do you concur?’
‘My Lord, I do,’ Lokan said, the hint of a smile on his face as muted gasps of surprise filled the air.
‘My Lord,’ added Sempes, bowing low, ‘I also concur.’ His expression was rather grimmer, but he spoke without hesitation, and that was crucial. Neither man could have refused so public a choice, but every second they had waited would have been noted by the watching crowd.
‘I thank you. Lesarl, summon Belir, Duke of Lomin.’
All pretenc
e at a respectful silence collapsed as the door opened a second time and in strode the powerfully built new duke, his black curls neatly trimmed and his uniform replaced by a crimson tunic emblazoned with the twin-towered keep of the Lomin family. As the duke approached, his face tight with nerves, Isak could see that while the clasps of his cloak bore the family crest in its entirety, the larger symbol on his chest had only one of those towers remaining, and a partially occluded moon hung above it.
Isak quickly spoke the words of the incantation he’d been practising, and let a sliver of magic trickle from his fingers, sensing how the arcane words shaped the energy and gave it a sudden purpose. By the time the new Duke of Lomin had knelt at Isak’s feet, the chatter of voices whispering around the room had dulled and whatever snatches of sound that crept through were garbled beyond recognition. He saw the heads of several priests and mages jerk up and stare at him, but he ignored them, even as Lesarl carefully noted who had reacted.
The Duke of Lomin also sensed the change in sounds around him and looked around as he held his hilt towards Isak.
‘A spell,’ Isak explained. ‘I expect several of your peers to have things to say that’ll require privacy.’
‘So no one else can hear us, my Lord?’ he asked.
‘They can hear a few garbled sounds, not individual words.’
‘May I ask a question then?’
Isak smiled. ‘You want to know why I chose you?’
‘I actually wanted to know what would be expected of me, my Lord, having had this honour bestowed.’ Berlir spoke through pursed lips. He clearly disliked the idea of being anyone’s pawn.
‘I expect you to perform your duties well. I need a duke in Lomin, not a lapdog.’ Isak leaned forward and looked Berlir in the eye. ‘You were chosen because Lesarl told me you’re a fine soldier, an intelligent leader and a strong man. The coming years will be hard and cruel, and I will expect as much from you as I will every other Farlan nobleman - more perhaps, because I have chosen a warrior, something that cannot be said of your fellow dukes, Sempes and Lokan.’
‘I - ‘ Berlir lowered his eyes. ‘Forgive me if this is blunt, my Lord, but I find it hard to accept an honour that is so lightly given.’
Isak grinned. ‘Good; if you weren’t a suspicious bastard you’d be no use. Now rise and take your seat; you should enjoy these few moments of peace, for there is much to do in Lomin. There is one thing to remember, and it is crucial: it is only united that we’ll survive what’s coming.’
The duke stood and took a half-step back before a strange look crossed his face. ‘I don’t pretend to understand your decision, but I’m a soldier, and as long as you ask me to serve the tribe, I will obey,’ he said, and bowed once more.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Isak said with a smile. ‘And now step back; I believe High Cardinal Echer has a few demands.’
As soon as the new duke had been greeted by Lokan and Sempes, all the rituals observed, Chief Steward Lesarl came forward and planted himself on Isak’s right, perching on a stool that had been left for that purpose. Isak had no idea who most of the men in the room were, and with Lesarl close enough to supply their names, he was also conveniently close enough to be involved in any discussion that might take place.
The High Cardinal did not forget his place in the proceedings. As the dukes had presented their sword-hilts to Isak, to take if he wished, so Echer knelt and offered the oversized ring that showed Nartis’s snake coiled around a sceptre. Isak thought the lapis lazuli disc looked curiously similar to Nartis’s coin, which had hung from Morghien’s augury chain.
I wouldn’t put it past Morghien to have stolen the coins for his chain. Isak smiled inwardly, but then it faded as he thought, How many priests will I have to kill to prevent civil war here? Enough to make my own chain?
‘High Cardinal, I thank you for your respectful greeting,’ Isak began, ‘but I hear there are some in your service who shame the Gods they profess to serve.’
Echer remained kneeling as he withdrew his hand and looked up at Isak. ‘There are many of your citizens who shame the Gods. I cannot blame my penitents for their zeal in showing the people the error of their ways.’
‘Zeal is all well and good, High Cardinal, but when it takes the Palace Guard to prevent fighting on the streets of Tirah, it goes too far. I hear there are many towns where blood has been spilled.’
‘There are sinners everywhere,’ spat Echer, ‘and their blood is better spilled than left to offend the Gods further.’
Isak took a deep breath. There was a fervent light in Echer’s eye, one that Isak longed to snuff out. He was well aware he couldn’t afford to let the situation continue - it would escalate as long as there were clear lines of conflict. What passed for religious law in the Land was a garbled mix of edicts, history and myths that required a great deal of interpretation. As yet, the High Cardinal had not put forward any clear agenda, other than the most obvious -the observance of Prayerday, censure of taverns and whorehouses-but Lesarl was convinced there was some sort of plan buried in Echer’s sporadic pronouncements.
‘The cults have no legal authority,’ Isak said firmly, ‘and yet your soldiers have attacked and killed in the name of the Gods. They have made summary judgments, and have carried out the punishment. In Chrien I hear a tavern was set alight and only the arrival of local watchmen stopped the arsonists from preventing anyone leaving.’
‘Regretful incidents,’ Echer said, although his face told a different story, ‘but they demonstrate the will of the people. No longer will they allow the law of the Gods to be broken; no longer do they wish profit to sit at the high altar. I do not condone such acts, but you ignore the will of the people at your peril. This moral decay must be stopped or the Gods themselves will be forced to demonstrate their ire.’
‘And how is this to be achieved?’
‘I have prepared a document for your approval, my Lord.’ Echer glared up at Isak, as though daring the white-eye lord to deny him anything he asked for. ‘This document has been circulated to the suzerains attending here today, and copies are to be displayed in every temple in Tirah.’
‘You walk a dangerous path, High Cardinal,’ Lesarl said softly. The Chief Steward’s face was hard now, coldly focused. ‘Making demands as you display your military strength could be construed as coming dangerously close to insurrection.’
‘My penitents are not an army, except in spirit,’ Echer said with an indulgent smile that sickened Isak. ‘We are not warriors, just men and women driven to preserve the majesty of the Gods.’
Lesarl didn’t try to hide the contempt in his voice. ‘Beating people to death in the street bears no relation to divine majesty. Providing noblemen and magistrates with armed “escorts” to get to the temple on Prayerday, keeping them prisoner for hours while your illegal courts are conducted - ‘
‘Only a heretic would call debase our piety by describing it that way,’ Echer interjected with a snarl.
Isak, judging he had let Lesarl stir the pot long enough, raised a hand to stop the exchange. ‘I will not have this argument here. Your document will give us much to think about, your Eminence. I understand you have grievances, and change will come, but the rule of law is in my name and mine alone. Any priest or cardinal found presiding over any form of court - anyone not a recognised magistrate - will be arrested. Do you understand?’
Echer hesitated, visibly thrown by the white-eye’s willingness to compromise. ‘Of course, my Lord, the rule of law should not be blurred,’ he said at last. ‘If there are new laws to guide the people back onto the path of piety, how could I complain who enforces them? As long as you act swiftly. You will permit me to exert authority over the cults of the Farlan, as is my right as leader of the Synod. And I trust you agree that authority extends to all affiliated organisations?’
‘You are talking about the Dark Monks - the Brethren of the Sacred Teachings?’
‘Among others. We will not stand for the presence of cabals who pretend
to piety yet bow to no authority.’
‘High Cardinal,’ Isak said in a level tone, ‘no such warnings are necessary between men of Nartis. Please remember your domain is of the ordained. It is my place to shepherd the pious majority, and I shall be vigilant in my duty.’
The whole subject revolted Isak, most particularly the smug way power was exerted. He and Lesarl had rehearsed this conversation, and Isak had flown into a rage the first time as his Chief Steward had acted the High Cardinal’s part rather too effectively, twisting compliments to act as insults, describing brutality as ‘fatherly chastisement’.
Now he continued, ‘In the morning I will make my own worship a public act, to serve as an example for the whole tribe to follow. I would be honoured if you joined me at the Temple of Nartis for the dawn service. I have already issued orders regarding groups like the Brethren of the Sacred Teachings -I will brook no challenge to my authority - just as I will not accept misguided folk pursuing the will of the Gods themselves.’
The High Cardinal bowed his head, but not quickly enough to hide the glee spreading across his face. The sight of Isak worshipping at the Temple of Nartis under Echer’s sanction would be invaluable to him. Isak just had to hope it would mollify the man long enough for Lesarl’s purposes.
‘My Lord is wise beyond his years and a devoted servant of his God,’ he murmured. ‘I thank Nartis for his wisdom in choosing you as Lord Bahl’s successor.’
Gods, do you think that’s me whipped and cowering? Are you really so insane?
Isak didn’t bother answering his own question. The man was utterly deluded. He had instigated many of the violent attacks that had taken place and Lesarl was afraid his madness could spark a civil war. The cults were spending their wealth carelessly to swell the ranks of their penitents and novices.
Cardinal Veck approached after the High Cardinal, but clearly had nothing further to add and he soon gave way to Cardinal Certinse, the last of the sitting cardinals of the Synod. Certinse looked drawn and pale; he had lost weight since Isak had seen him last, and his nervousness was palpable. Bloodshot eyes indicated many sleepless nights - no great surprise seeing his sister had joined his brother and nephew among the recent dead; she’d poisoned herself before summoning the daemon in Irienn Square.
