by Tom Lloyd
Isak idly caressed the emerald set into Eolis's pommel. The cut surfaces were silky in the sharp winter air; the silver claws that held the stone were wet with cold. The wide river that cut through the neat lines of fields looked calm in the moonlight, but it ran both swift and dangerous. Isak watched the phantom clouds of his breath push out over the crenellations, then they were swept away into nothing.
A finger of cold suddenly flashed down Isak's spine and he flinched in
surprise. Then an icy prickle on his neck made him look abruptly over his shoulder. The terrace was only ten yards long, and it remained resolutely empty. Alterr's light from high above had cast a deep shadow on the wall behind him, but no one – or thing – loitered in it, as far as Isak could see. There was no window where someone could observe him, and when he embraced a sliver of magic, he was assured that there truly was not a soul nearby.
Still Isak felt uncomfortable, as if there were a physical presence standing at his shoulder. The bite in the air crept inside his clothes, and the shadows grew deep and ancient. His hand closed tight about Eolis. Still he could see nothing. A flicker of panic set in. As a cloud moved over Alterr's face, Isak shuddered: this bitter, dark place was not for mortal breath. He turned and hurried back inside.
From the shadows, the boy's precipitous flight was noted with some amusement. His uncertainty, melancholy and jumbled fears left a sweet aroma lingering in the air.
So blind, still, but have no fear. Not yet. You hardly know who you are - you're not yet ready to know my name.
CHAPTER 2O
Isak was glad of the silk mask covering his face as the column of horsemen clattered their way through the streets of Tirah. The crowds had braved a brisk wind and swirling eddies of snow to line the streets all the way to the palace. Under scarves and caps skin was reddened and raw, but lifted by the smiles and cheers that greeted the troops. A victory parade through the city always brought out the people, if only to gawp at the Parian cavalry in all their colourful finery. Even the Ghosts had made the effort to look their best, and the knights were as gaudy as ever, but it was Isak who drew everyone's attention.
At Bahl's request, the Krann was in full armour, the only conces-sion to the cold a bearskin around his shoulders, He managed not to shiver too obviously. No matter how uncomfortable, he could not deny the effect he was having on the people – his people. They might still be fearful of what lay behind these particular gifts, but the sight of Siulents and Eolis, and the proud emerald dragons decorating the flanks of Isak's hunter, were irresistible.
The people of Tirah cheered their army, and they cheered Isak at its head. Bahl was beside him, but Isak felt their eyes on his back long after he had trotted under the barbican gate. Flaming brands lit the thirty yards of dank stone tunnel, then the column emerged into the
familiar surrounds of the palace grounds, to be received formally by the entire staff and residents of the palace and barracks. Guardsmen and recruits, all in full dress uniform, stood in neat ranks off to the left, with the palace staff lined up on the right. Fearful wives and
children, still not knowing who had survived and who had died, huddled behind the ranks.
Swordmaster Kerin, standing before his men, saluted, beaming, as the troops clattered past to the sound of his men cheering. Even the noblemen and officials grouped beyond the palace staff added their voices to the tumultuous reception.
Bahl, having acknowledged his Swordmaster, ignored the rest and slipped from his horse as soon as he reached the steps. Lesarl had already broken away from the group of officials, a pair of clerks in his wake, and fell in with Bahl as he strode into the palace. It was left up to Isak to acknowledge the greeting, bestowing on each group a regal wave or a smile before he was able to dismount.
The Swordmaster took that as the signal to dismiss everyone and his curt order was echoed by the bellow of a sergeant-at-arms. The orderly lines melted back to their barracks and duties as a stream of weary knights trotted past and on to the stables on either side of the south gate.
Isak gave his horse one last pat on the neck and smiled at Kerin, who saluted him again as he passed, on his way to Sir Cerse. The colonel of the Ghosts turned with a smile as Kerin patted him on the shoulder, then Isak's attention wandered to the hundreds of reunions going on across the ground, with friends, families or lovers. A touch of sadness stirred in his belly as he watched some collapsing in tears, others laughing in relief.
He was about to head off to his chambers when he noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye, standing motionless in the teeming crowds. The man was staring straight at him, not moving a muscle, even as a woman behind him bewailed the loss of a husband. With a shout, Isak tore the mask from his face and sprang forward as the man broke into a broad smile and stepped forward to meet the bounding giant.
'Gods, boy, look at the size of you – I wasn't sure it was really you for a moment there!' exclaimed Carel as Isak reached him.
Not waiting for any formal greeting, Isak discarded his gauntlets and reached down to hug him. Carel was now significantly shorter than him. Isak lifted him off his feet with fierce affection.
'Aargh, put me down, you ox!' cried Carel as Isak squeezed the breath from his body. He took Isak's hand in his, feeling the hard muscle under his palms. Looking him up and down, Carel's expression was one of amazement. 'Isak, boy, you've grown near a foot since I last saw you – and if you fill that armour out the way it looks- Such a
change in half a year! Merciful Nartis, your hand feels like it's been carved from oak!'
'And you look smaller than ever,' Isak countered, grinning widely.
Count Vesna walked over from his own horse, a satisfied smile on his lips as he watched the reunion. It was the first time he'd seen the Krann like this.
'Hah, and I'm softer in my old age too. Don't hug me like that again, please, you might snap me in two. Don't think you'll be feeling the back of my hand any more now either – your skull was always over-thick even before you were Chosen. Gods, even now I can hardly believe I'm saying that. You, one of the Chosen-'
'I know, but you can save the jokes for later.'
'Those'll wait.' Carel stopped and reached up to grasp Isak by the shoulders. 'I'm not joking now, boy. I hope you realise the honour done to you.'
‘The honour of having half the Land after my blood?' Isak laughed at Carel's expression and stuck his tongue out at him in mock petulance. 'Oh don't scowl at me like that, I know what you mean. I'm just glad you're here. I was afraid that you'd have gone off on another trip.'
'No, with the attack on Lomin, work stopped dead. I wouldn't have gone anyway. I resigned my position; took work as bodyguard for a merchant. All you need's the white collar to do that without fear, and I knew you'd be needing my help sooner or later.'
Isak stopped and looked down at the ground, guiltily aware of the length of time since he'd seen his old friend. I’m sorry, I-'
Carel shut him up with a wave of the hand. 'Boy, I know your mind better than you do. I'd have been able to tell you on your first day that you'd start it off alone. And now I see you like this – oh Gods, I'm so proud of you. You've nothing to apologise for, nothing. You've settled in, and now you've realised you're in need of someone to clip your ear from time to time – took your time, but you got there in the end.'
Both men turned to Vesna as the count stifled a snort of laughter. Ahem, my apologies, Lord Isak.'
'Tsatach's balls! You're Count Vesna?' Carel grabbed the man's hand and continued, 'An honour to meet you, my Lord. Wait a moment-' He looked from Vesna to Isak, then another smile broke over his lined face. 'You took a bond of service, didn't you? Because of the College of Magic. You're from- Hah!' Carel suddenly laughed so hard the men behind him jumped in alarm. 'You're bonded to this great lump of wood?'
'I have that honour, sir,' replied Vesna smoothly, his eyes twinkling as he recognised a kindred spirit. 'But can I suggest we continue this conversation inside, away from the troops?
'
'That's a good idea,' agreed Isak quickly, realising that the two were going to get on well, probably at his own expense. He draped an arm over Carel's shoulder and turned towards the main wing where hot food would be waiting. 'I see you're well, then.'
'As well as can be expected for a man who feels his age around all these boys.' Carel waved his hand towards the soldiers, unconsciously touching the white collar on his tunic as he looked at them. Only then did it occur to Isak that Carel was better dressed than Isak had ever seen him before. A fine coat of short black fur reached down to his knees, edged in pristine white fox fur. Under this were bleached soft leathers and a fine pair of high green boots, all of which seemed unusually foppish for the former Ghost.
'You've taken advantage of our hospitality then,' Isak remarked, touching a finger to the coat's edge.
'I've been here only a few days, but your maid has been looking after me – since you're the Krann, I thought I'd better get myself some new clothes; didn't want you to be ashamed of me.' Carel gestured towards the approaching figure of Tila.
'Welcome back, my Lord,' the girl said, curtseying neatly to Isak, then bobbing her head and adding, 'Count Vesna.'
'Have you two met before?' Isak asked, curious.
'No, my Lord,' Tila said, 'but the count's armour makes him easy to recognise, and of course his reputation precedes him.'
The count hesitated a second, then bowed low to kiss Tila's hand in formal greeting. 'My Lady.'
As Tila's face remained impassive, Isak remembered she wouldn't share a soldier's admiration of Vesna's reputation.
There was a frosty edge to her voice when she at last did speak. 'Your apartments have been readied, but unfortunately there has been some storm damage to one of the court apartments, and the other two are already allocated. I hope you will not mind using guest chambers instead. I have had your belongings delivered to the rooms beside Sergeant Carelfolden's, since you are both of Lord Isak's party.'
Isak gaped at the meek girl he had said goodbye to. The hostility was not open enough to be insulting, but it was obvious all the same. It was the first time he really saw her as a Farlan woman, taught from birth that her position would never be equal to that of a man. For the Chetse, that meant women held no opinions; they were docile, obedient and polite to their masters, never even raising their voices. The Farlan were different, for Farlan womenfolk turned weakness into strength in classic military manner: they ran everything from behind the scenes. It wasn't shaming for a man's peers to know his wife made the decisions, and girls with wit and fierce intelligence were well educated and keenly sought in marriage.
'Who's in the other apartments?' Isak demanded when he found his voice.
To his surprise, her gaze never wavered, even in the face of his obvious anger. She stared him down as she replied, 'Suzerain Tehran is still technically in residence, and Count Vilan has been allocated the other apartment.'
'But we met Tehran at his manor. And Vilan? Fetch Lesarl, now,' Isak snapped.
The count raised a black velvet-clad hand. 'My Lord, I am quite happy with the arrangements. I believe Sir Cerse invited Count Vilan here, and I would hate to interfere with that.'
Isak looked at his bondsman for a moment and then realisation dawned. He nodded briefly at Vesna, then turned back to Tila and said politely, 'My lady, the arrangements are most satisfactory. Please convey my warmest regards to the Chief Steward. I'm sure he would have given me a stable if he could.'
Tila curtsied again and swung about to return to the palace.
Vesna breathed in deeply as a brief gust of perfume washed towards him. 'I think she likes me.'
‘She has certain opinions, about-' Isak blushed, and continued, his voice softer, 'about sexual relations. I don't think you quite meet her standards.'
Vesna laughed dryly. 'I should hope not. Those sort of "relations", as you so coyly put it, are not for unmarried girls.'
‘I feel sorry for your wife when at last you do marry,' Isak said with a laugh.
‘Why? If I get all my dalliances out of the way beforehand, she will reap the benefit of my hard work and practice!' He smiled, and Isak
didn't push the subject further. It was clear Vesna had reeled out his defence time after time, whether he actively believed in it or not was not Isak's problem.
'Anyway, enough of this,' the count continued. 'I can decide how to win Lady Tila's heart some other time. What's more important is that Count Vilan is on a certain list in my possession.'
'I know; just don't be too impatient to get his chambers; understood?'
Carel watched Isak. Whether the boy knew it or not, he was growing into his position as much in attitude as he was in body. He felt a welling of pride in his heart, and gladness: for once his wild boy didn't have his usual look of wariness on his face. Now he didn't have to keep out of the way, or keep one eye open for a passing blow, nor did he have to endure the scowls and distrust of everyone he met.
Isak stood tall and proud. He'd shaken off the slouch he'd adopted as a child to disguise his height and he looked more alive than he ever had. No longer would Isak have to skirt around society: now life would shape itself about his battle-hardened figure. It was more than the child Carel had first met could ever have dreamed of. Now, with an enchanted blade hanging casually at his hip, a dragon on his cloak and clad in magical armour, he would be the envy of every boy in the tribe.
As Carel's gaze paused on Eolis, Isak's head snapped around. The youth's face was suspicious for a fraction of a second, then he forced out a smile again. 'Enough of business; we need food and wine.' He ushered Carel and Vesna towards the Great Hall, where the men crowding around the roasting boar parted respectfully. Isak piled as much food as he could carry into his bowl, then directed Carel to the head table with a nod of his head.
Once they were all comfortable, he asked Carel, 'So what news do you have?'
Carel looked up from his food and hesitated for a moment, trying to read the Krann's face, but finding nothing, started, 'Well, Valo finally got around to marrying Faean, Jedah gave birth to a baby girl a day shy of midwinter-'
'That's not what I meant.'
'Well then, just ask. How can I guess whether you want to hear about Horman or not? You've been living with politicians for hair a year; you've grown one of their blank faces.'
Isak looked startled, then his more familiar expression of slight anxiety spread across his face.
'So, is he glad I'm gone?'
'What do you think?'
'I expect he misses having someone to bully. I expect he's got less to complain about, so he's drinking rather than talking.'
'Close enough to the truth there. But of course he misses you. You're still family, even if you can't stand each other. You've got your whole life ahead of you, and quite a life it'll be now. His ended when your mother died. Whatever he thinks of you, you were the last link to her. Many's the time I've got drunk with him and he's not said a word, just run that green ring around and around in his hand for hours.'
'Well, don't expect me to see him,' Isak growled.
'I don't.'
Isak looked surprised at Carel's easy acceptance. He snorted and slapped his palm on the table. 'You're surprised? My boy, you're not the only white-eye I've known, and I damn well know you better than any man alive. You're as proud as you are nasty sometimes. On top of that Horman, my friend as he still is, has done little to deserve your love.'
'Little?'
Carel waved a finger at him. 'He looked after you better than some I've heard of. Whatever else you say, and however begrudgingly it was given, you never went hungry. Deny that and I'll slap you so hard your armour will fall off. There were some all for giving you a child's portion at meals, instead of more than Valo could manage. Not one would have dared say that to your father.'
'Why not?'
‘Well, for a start, no one wanted to talk about you unless they had
to – they were your mother's folk, and a
superstitious rabble, then and now. You look like your mother, and everyone knew what she meant to Horman; he took his loneliness and frustration out on you for that,
but he’d not have seen you starve, whatever words his temper might put in his mouth.’
‘Perhaps. But I'll be more alone than he ever was – at least he had someone once; he had a child, even if it was a white-eye.' And look what the loss did to him.'
Isak didn’t reply, but Carel could see from his clamped jaw that the boy understood more than he was going to admit. Before the
conversation could continue, Tila arrived with a second bowl of food for Isak.
Vesna rose at Tila's arrival, a smile on his lips, but Tila, feeling like he was mocking her, pointedly ignored him and sat down next to Carel, who waved a spoon in greeting. She had immediately warmed to the ageing soldier: there was a warm generosity about him, a feeling of dependability and reassurance, like a loving uncle, perhaps
– quite unlike the handsome charms of Count Vesna, whose glittering eyes were not exactly indecent, but they were most certainly predatory.
Tila wore a simple, warm dress, but with a glance and a smile Vesna managed to make her feel as though she were dressed fit for a summer ball. She had no intention of trusting a man like that. His face was too comely, his words too welcome, his presence too magnetic.
'My Lord, was the battle as much of a success as we have heard?' she asked, breaking her concentration away from Vesna.
'Was that really all of the Ghosts returning today?' Carel asked before Isak could finish his mouthful and reply to Tila's question. He sounded concerned; Carel had been a Ghost; he knew what a full complement looked like and was well able to guess their losses.
