by Tom Lloyd
A soft knock on the door dispelled his thoughts. Vukotic shrugged his shoulders to ensure the cuirass was straight and comfortable, then called for the servant to come in.
'Forgive the intrusion, my Prince, but you have a visitor and your tea is ready,' the elderly man said as he bowed as far as his load and age would permit, then shuffled forward and carefully placed a heavily laden tray on to a small table beside the fire.
'If it is one of the scouts then send them to Duke Onteviz; he has command of the walls,' said Vukotic before he noticed the second cup on the tray. A visitor was rare enough at any time, let alone when an army was attacking the city. It couldn't be his brother – Vorizh wouldn't dream of announcing himself to a servant; he preferred them to not even see him. Conceivably, his sister had returned from playing with the politicians of the western cities. She was more likely to visit than the others, perhaps the White Circle politics had bored her even quicker than she'd expected.
He paused, lost in thought. Strange he hadn't sensed whoever it was when he spoke to the rest of his breed. Just in case, he looked at the sword belt hanging from the back of the chair to make sure it was easily accessible if some treachery were afoot.
'I hardly think you need that,' someone outside the room said firmly.
The voice brought a smile to Vukotic's face and he dismissed the servant who had been waiting with hands anxiously clamped together. Aracnan leaned on the door frame. 'It's good to see you well again.'
Vukotic snorted. 'You make it sound like I had a cold.'
'Nothing you would not recover from. Complaints are not
princely.'
The vampire smiled and straightened up from fitting the plates about his shin to grasp Aracnan's huge hand and squeeze it tightly. 'Nor is much that I do, and yet this is the company you keep. How are you, my friend?'
'Well.' Aracnan shook off the black bearskin draped over his shoulders and sat down beside the fire with a satisfied sigh. His taut, pale skin plowed in the firelight, though his large black eyes reflected nothing.
6
'But I do not expect to be popular in the west, so I thought I might call in on an old enemy and see how he's getting over his cold.'
Vukotic sat opposite him, leaving Bariaeth in its scabbard on the other side of the room. 'Why?'
'Well, it appears I tried to put an influence charm on the Saviour.'
'What?' Vukotic nearly jumped out of his seat. 'The Saviour? I've heard none of this. When? Who?'
Aracnan gave a whispery chuckle and, ignoring his friend's sudden animation, poured two cups of the steaming tea. The cup looked tiny in his hands as he wrapped his chilled fingers about it.
He took a sip and smiled, then said, 'Patience; and I will tell you. He is Farlan – Nartis has two Chosen again. I was given instructions to fetch him and announce it to Lord Bahl, but he would not come.'
'Why not?'
'I cannot say exactly, but I felt a sudden hatred for the boy as soon as I laid eyes on him and I believe he saw that, or maybe felt the same way, but why? All I remember is that he wears a halo of trouble. He's wild, and that makes me fear for what he might do-'
'And you still keep a trap-scroll with you for when you meet interesting strangers,' finished Vukotic, with a smile. 'You've become a creature of habit, my friend. Age has caught up with you at last. But it's sensible enough. The influence will remain dormant and undetected by most mages.'
'Except it was never activated. The scroll was given to Lord Bahl, who knew not to open it. I followed the boy to Tirah – I wanted to understand why I'd felt him to be different, and I wanted to deliver the message at least to Lord Bahl, even if I couldn't deliver the boy.'
Vukotic looked at the immortal sitting opposite him. They called themselves friends, though that was not the simple truth. The story was likely to be less innocent than Aracnan was suggesting, but he had done the same many times. They both had their own agendas, their own games to play and what were a few lies between immortals? As the years swept past it was good to see a familiar face, so they both ignored much to ensure that continued.
He prompted Aracnan. 'And?'
'And I was attacked, again and again – attacked in my sleep by some Yeetatchen witch, of all things. Whenever I neared the boy she came after me. I've been warding my mind ever since, but I think she only wanted to drive me away. I was out of the city by the time I heard about the Krann's gifts and realised what he was.'
'What would the Gods gift their Saviour with?' Vukotic wondered out loud. 'He's Farlan, so it would ultimately be Nartis's choice… so it would be an aggressive one, without thought to the consequences, but not whimsical. Amavoq would have given a dragon, no doubt, but not the Night Hunter.' He sighed. 'So. Siulents and Eolis are back in the Land.'
'My friend, you have too much time on your hands.' The mercenary chuckled. 'But you are, of course, quite correct.'
As he rose, slowly unfurling his body from the chair, the vampire wondered, as always, if Aracnan was a native of anywhere. His almost inhuman, hairless features were starkly different to Vukotic's own, and unchanged over the millennia. His ears, unadorned and unscarred, were prominent against the smooth lines of his skull, which added to the generally outlandish impression. He was not of any of the tribes of man, but neither was he similar to any of the warrior races created by the Gods.
Vukotic sighed to himself, remembering those poor creatures bred only for war and the part he had played in exterminating them: the feral Manee, the beautiful Angosteil whose shining faces had stirred the envy of the elves, and the bizarre, green-carapaced Voch. They had killed them all, and more besides, in ambushes, with terrible spells, unleashing unnatural plagues. The elves had been as vicious as their Gods; perhaps even more ruthless, because they understood hurt in a way immortals couldn't.
Vukotic's memories were interrupted by a sudden discordant clang-ing from the walls that got louder as more hands fell to the task of warning the city. He shrugged at Aracnan. 'It seems I must wait for whatever other news you have of the Land. The Menin's Lord Cytt demands my presence so he can prove his worth to the rest of his tribe.'
'As if there is anyone else in the Menin who has not accepted Lord Styrax's son as their future ruler,' Aracnan scoffed.
'Will you join me? Together we could deal with the man before he wastes his soldiers on the walls. I'm sure your reputation would be furthered by the death of Lord Cytt surrounded by his entire army.'
Aracnan laughed out loud and nodded his agreement. 'We both have reputations to further, do we not – in dark times, who knows what use they might be? After, we must make plans to leave in search of summer.'
'Leave the Forbidden Lands? Events have progressed that far?'
They have gone far enough that we must deal ourselves into the game, or be left behind.'
After they had left, the shadows slowly lengthened as the lamps died down. When a servant came to clear the cups and tend the fire, he was struck, suddenly, by the feeling that he was not alone. The room grew cold for a moment and he shivered as he looked around, but there was no one there and, feeling foolish, he dismissed it as an old man's fears.
Outside, on the blanketed plain beyond the city, two shapes moved silently over the snow.
CHAPTER 18
Isak paused outside Lord Bahl's tent and looked up at the eagle standard that battered at the wind as though trying to escape its bonds. Bright slashes of orange on the horizon cut through the clouds, while higher up, the sky was stained pink and purple, with twists of gilt' edged cloud overlaying the colours. It was an arresting sight, belying the drab day and biting cold.
He pushed back the hood of his heavy cape and felt the rushing breeze over his newly shorn scalp. He'd spent the whole day hiding from the chill; it seemed only fair that he embrace it for a moment before night asserted itself. Twilight was always Isak's favourite time: it wasn't to be trusted, it played tricks on the mind, and yet he loved it-General Lahk had informed Isak that he would
be taking his evening meal with Lord Bahl – that meant something was going on, for he ate with his Lord more often than not, and neither required a summons to the other's company.
'Lord Isak,' called a voice behind him. Isak turned to see Sir Cerse approaching. 'Am I to have the pleasure of your company at supper too?'
It looked like Isak was right about the young colonel of the Palace Guard: he knew the man to be ambitious and politically minded, but he believed Sir Cerse could most likely be trusted. He was of minor gentry stock from Amah, as loyal a region as any. The significance of the dinner invitation had obviously not been lost on him: power lay within the lord of the Parian's inner circle, and he was being given the opportunity to show himself worthy.
'Among others, I suspect.' As he spoke, Suzerain Ked and Count Vesna appeared from different directions in the growing gloom, both wrapped against the cold in heavy, plain cloaks. They were alone, and
trying to draw as little attention as possible. Isak nodded to both, then entered the tent ahead of the other three men.
Inside Bahl and Suzerain Tori were already seated, while General Lahk stood over a steaming pot, ladling what smelled like venison stew into bowls. Isak stopped suddenly when he caught sight of a copper-haired woman standing to one side – the last thing he'd expected to see out here in the middle of nowhere was a strange and very beautiful woman. He ignored Sir Cerse's polite cough behind him and caught Bahl's eye, hoping the woman's presence would be explained.
Bahl couldn't fail to notice his Krann's interest. 'One of my Chief Steward's agents,' he said dismissively, 'bringing me information that does not concern you.'
Isak remembered Bahl's warning after the battle that there were some secrets he was not privy to. He nodded in acceptance and moved further in, allowing the others to enter.
'My lords, gentlemen,' Bahl greeted them once all four were inside and the hide flap fastened against the wind.
Isak caught the scuff of boots on grass outside: Ghosts, he guessed, loitering outside to prevent eavesdroppers.
'Please, make yourselves comfortable, for we have matters to discuss.'
There were stools enough for all while Bahl sat back in a campaign armchair, one that was easily folded for transport but strong enough to support his massive weight.
Isak took an overfilled bowl of stew and picked out a hard lump of bread, then sat himself on Bahl's left. The general paused, then found himself another stool, his face impassive, as usual. Isak hoped the others hadn't seen it as a deliberate slight – Bahl never gave anything away, so he'd wanted to be able to watch every other face there. He hadn't intended to be deliberately rude to the general. Vesna secured the place on Isak's other side.
'Sir Cerse, you may speak as a peer here,' Bahl said quietly, and the Colonel gave a nod of appreciation at the courtesy – as the only man there without court rank, he would otherwise have had to stay quiet unless directly addressed.
Bahl didn't waste time. 'The Malich affair is not quite over. You will all have noticed the failure of some to answer the call to battle, and the problems the cavalry have been having with the blood stocks. My authority still lacks the weight in some places that I would wish.'
'My Lord,' interrupted Ked carefully, 'I have had my best man watching the young wolf, but he reports nothing of this importance. Certinse left for Lomin today.'
'I have also heard nothing to say those suspected-' began Tori. Bahl raised a hand to stop him. 'Neither have I, but neither do they rush back to the fold. My lords will need convincing, it seems, and that is what we will do.'
'Lesarl?' asked Isak with a faint smile, looking quickly at the woman, who was crouching easily at the side of the tent. He noticed that Ked wore a look of pained resignation. No doubt he'd hoped the time for savage measures had passed.
'Legana has other duties,' Bahl said. 'She will be returning to Helrect, where she will join the White Circle. We have little information about them or their plans because they have been so hard to infiltrate. We have few female agents of Legana's talents; to waste her on this would be foolish. In any case, Lesarl will have to restrain his feelings for Duke Certinse for the moment. I do not destroy powerful families lightly, for that would, I think, come back to haunt us.' 'And counts?' prompted Vesna quietly.
'Kinbe and Solsis should both disappear. There's no doubt that they are guilty of murder and heresy, though we've never had evidence enough for a public trial. That should send a clear message to Duke Certinse; after that, we will have to watch how he reacts. I will have Suzerain Nelbove in my pocket by the time his daughter marries Certinse. His allegiance to Malich was only ever intended to further his fortune.'
'Count Vilan and those marshals of his,' supplied Sir Cerse. 'The count sent ambiguous letters to my predecessor – they were delayed and by the time they arrived the colonel had died and a relative in the city had claimed his personal papers. There is no reason for Vilan to know his letters were not burned, as I'm sure the rest were. I've known him for years, so I doubt his importance to the general plot, but it would send a message to anyone thinking of pulling strings.'
The grey-haired Tori blinked in surprise. Vilan was one of his subjects – and one of his most important. 'I had no idea,' he said, looking at Bahl. 'It's true I have never been on the best of terms with Vilan, but I've had no reason to think him a traitor. His family have always supported mine; he's my second cousin.' The suzerain pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Isak watched, fascinated at the
effect of this revelation on the normally granite-faced soldier. 'If you would be good enough to show me the documents, Sir Cerse?'
.
The knight nodded. 'Of course, sir. They are under lock and key. If it helps, it mentions your hidden armouries at your hunting lodge and Riverbree Manor – I assume that was information he shouldn't have shared.'
'Vilan was the only one outside my family to know of those, damn him. I will deal with him, but I want it to be seen as an accident. The Vilans have done my family good service over the years; I don't want their reputation to be stained because of one man.'
'May I ask something?' asked Isak. He looked around at the expectant faces and felt the memory of his display on the battlefield rise in his throat. He'd been trying to avoid being the centre of attention since he regained consciousness. 'I'm sure you've all grown up discussing this sort of thing, but I didn't. It's obvious there is disloyalty, and problems with the Cult of Nartis, but I still don't know what Malich actually did. Could I get the short explanation before we decide who to murder?'
A barking laugh came from Suzerain Ked, not mocking but brotherly, as if Isak's request had made him appear human again. There were smiles all round and the sombre mood evaporated.
The colonel cleared his throat to attract Bahl's attention. 'I think that perhaps I might be the best person for that, my Lord. I know enough to give a brief outline.' His tone was respectful but bold as he warmed to his new position in Bahl's inner circle. He could make a good guess at the sort of man the Lord would value.
Bahl gestured for Sir Cerse to continue.
The scandal was brought to light by a Cardinal of the cult of Nartis, Cardinal Disten,' he said. 'He was once chaplain to a cavalry regiment in Amah. He discovered daemon worshippers spreading a cult devoted to a being called Azaer, mostly in the Cardinal branch, but they were slowly gaining control of the whole cult of Nartis. It was rumoured that the Dowager Duchess Certinse was at the centre of the plot, taking orders directly from Malich. I heard that the men who round Suzerain Suil's body were on their way to arrest him for high treason. They were preparing for a full-scale rebellion when Cardinal Disten uncovered the plot last summer.'
'But how could any Farlan rebel against the Chosen of Nartis?' demanded Isak, unable to keep from interrupting.
'Firstly, if you'll forgive the observation, my Lord, even a white-eye of Lord Bahl's ability cannot face an entire army. With necromantic powers augmenting their forces and the military sup
port of those nobles they controlled, the danger was very real.'
'But surely most are loyal still?'
'Possibly, but by rigging the election of one of their own to High Cardinal of Nartis they have great authority over the people, as well as the ability to declare Lord Bahl Forsaken.'
Isak sounded confused. 'What does that mean?'
'Forsaken means abandoned by the Gods. While we are servants of the Gods, they rarely pay much attention to us. Nartis is like any other God of the Upper Circle. The Chosen must be able to protect both their positions and persons, otherwise they do not deserve his blessing. If the Cardinals declare Lord Bahl to be Forsaken, then they can order those loyal to join them or stay away. Not all would obey, but enough. Lord Bahl is head of the cult of Nartis, but the Cardinals speak with divine authority. With intelligence and magic they could manipulate the mood of crowds; they could turn public opinion even against the chosen Lord of the Farlan.
'Half the tribe seems to have been implicated by one rumour or another. Mostly these have been false – petty revenge or family feuds, such is court life – but some must be true. I believe that there was a large faction of Devoted involved.'
Sir Cerse looked at Bahl for comment but received merely a blank stare. He coughed and continued quickly, To best Lord Bahl in battle, Malich would have needed to control at least one duke and five powerful suzerains. That's the only way he could be confident of defeating the loyal troops. The true extent of how many were involved we may never know, but the tribe has been severely weakened by suspicion. Many have failed to maintain proper, lawful levels of stock, trained soldiers, campaign supplies…" His voice tailed off as gloom overtook the tent once more.
Isak looked around at the faces staring at the ground. Bahl's own naturally grim expression was reflected on the faces of Tori, Vesna, Sir Cerse – even the beautiful assassin, Legana. Suzerain Ked, normally a calm and reflective man, had his jaw clamped tight and anger tightened his brow.
