by Tom Lloyd
Vesna nodded. 'Near enough. Some stopped at their homesteads, but with those killed in battle and winter picking off the injured, we're almost four hundred down. Success? My Lady, it was, but at a high price. Still, Isak led well in his first battle and that's a good sign for the future.'
Isak said nothing – he still felt guilty whenever the battle was mentioned – but Carel took his silence as lamenting the dead. 'Don't think about the fallen, Isak,' he said. 'From what I hear, there would have been even more widows without you: Lord Bahl and the dragon broke the trolls, but they would have been too late if the Ghosts hadn't held
– and without you, they would have been overcome before Lord Bahl got there.'
Isak looked up and met his friend's gaze: Carel had never been adept at lying, nor had he ever made allowances for the feelings of an outcast. He had guessed what happened, and understood.
A sudden draft from the tower corridor heralded the Swordmaster's arrival. Kerin's grim face brightened when he breathed in the aroma that filled the Great Hall. The Swordmaster hadn't yet returned to his training leathers; under his coat was the dress uniform of the Ghosts,
including a heavily braided, double-breasted tunic of black linen woven with gold thread.
He secured a bowl of the stew from the huge cauldrons nestled inside the stone hearth of the great fire and a haunch of the spitted boar, then joined Isak and his friends. He came straight to the point. 'Lord Bahl has been filling me in. You can use magic now?'
Isak's heart sank. From the gleam in Kerin's eye, the Swordmaster had a whole host of new routines already devised. 'Barely,' he said quickly, 'nothing with any skill, just the most basic of energies, not real combat magic at all.'
Kerin smiled. 'Barely will do for me.'
'Magic?' asked Tila sharply. 'What do you mean by basic energies?'
'Do you know anything about magic?' Isak asked. He knew a little more of the subject than when he had left the palace.
'Only that white-eyes are different to wizards.'
The others had leaned forward slightly and Isak smiled. Few people really knew anything about magic – it was the preserve of a select few – but who could fail to be interested? 'Well, it's complicated, and I don't understand most of it myself. From what I've read, there are three types of magic, the basic energies – '
'Like creating lightning?' Vesna interrupted with boyish eagerness. Any man who had seen Bahl fight knew how destructive that could be.
'Yes,' Isak said, 'although I don't think it's exactly the same as real lightning, but we're the Chosen of Nartis so that's how this works. Creating fire is possible but takes more energy – Lord Chalat or his Krann would be able to do it more easily because of their patron.'
It's all the same energy, but different people turn it into different things, lightning, fire or whatever,' said Kerin, who had far more experience of his Lord's skills.
That's how it ends up,' Isak agreed. 'You'd have to ask a wizard from the College why. I don't understand most of what they say, but apparently I don't need to. Anyway, the three types are called energies, enchantments and spells. Enchantments are very simple spells, so simple that even white-eyes can do them. It's just using the energies more carefully, shaping them to a purpose and binding them to stay rather than releasing them in a single burst.'
Isak could see from his audience that his lecture was beginning to lose them. He tried an example. 'Do you remember the story of the and the rope-snake?'
'The children's story?' replied Tila, starting to understand. 'So the rope was enchanted?' Seeing blank expressions on the faces of the three men she smiled and began to explain. 'A jeweller asks a wizard to protect him from thieves – I forget what happened, but the wizard gave him a piece of rope to leave in his shop at night. It would wander the rooms and if anyone else apart from the jeweller came in, it would tie them up.'
'Exactly,' said Isak. There's more to it than just that, of course, but that's as far as I've got. As for spells, apparently they aren't something most white-eyes can do. There's something called "covenant theory", but I didn't really understand that.'
As they all opened their mouths to speak at once, Isak's name was called out from the door. They turned to see the Chief Steward, flanked by his clerks.
Lesarl lowered his voice now he had their attention. 'Lord Isak, the master wishes to see you now, alone. Kerin, there's work to do.' He didn't wait for a response. He was fully up to date now with the events of the last few weeks and there was a mountain of work to do. Quite apart from his normal duties of effectively running Bahl's lands, he was in charge of securing and paying for everything Bahl felt the army would need. The lack of horses was his problem to resolve; his spy networks needed briefing; and now he had to look at securing the loyalty of the Farlan nobility from an economic perspective. He had a big staff, but keeping control of so many threads was a task more demanding than most men could manage.
'That there is,' said Kerin to the general company as he rose from his seat. 'With your leave, my Lord.'
Isak waved in assent as the grey-haired man lifted his legs over the bench and went back to work. Isak finished his last mouthful of bread and stood to leave. 'Vesna, I doubt this will take long. Round up some men, recruits, whoever, with practice weapons and armour. Kerin will have to be there for single combat practice, but I'm desperate to stretch my limbs. I'll meet you by the training posts – Tila, can you show him around?' He smiled at her.
Tila didn't look overly pleased at his request, but she and the count were going to have to get on, no matter what she thought of him. Isak suddenly realised then that whatever feelings he had held for Tila had changed. There was still a close affection, and appreciation, for she was beautiful, but now she was a friend, no more. Whether she felt
the same remained to be seen, but to Isak, his maid had become the sister he'd never had.
The realisation had been sparked by his lack of jealousy at Vesna's interest in Tila, despite her obvious scorn for the famous – infamous
count. Things had changed since the battle, and now he just wanted to
see Tila happy. There could be no match with him, but Vesna, on the other hand…
Carel watched the Krann go to the door with a smile on his face. He wondered whether Isak had noticed that he walked with one finger resting on Eolis always. He hoped the youth would take that armour off soon; he didn't seem quite human with it on. Still, if he was going to do weapons training he'd have to – Kerin had taken great delight in showing off the suit of armour he'd had specially made for Isak.
The Swordmaster had described it as the opposite of Siulents, a thick steel frame with each piece coated in lead to add to the already significant weight. The Krann's practice blade was to be a steel tube filled with lead. The idea was that the weight would slow the boy down so he would have to pay more attention to his technique. Kerin was still unimpressed at being bested on Isak's first day; he was looking forward to a little friendly revenge.
As Carel chuckled to himself at the image of Isak in a lead suit, Tila broke her silence. 'Count Vesna, how is it that you call your master Isak, and yet he still uses your surname?'
Vesna dropped his gaze in embarrassment, his veneer of charm suddenly stripped away. 'I, ah… well, to be honest, Lord Isak has yet to think of it. He has only one name, and it is good enough for him, so he thinks it is good enough for everyone.'
‘But you do have a name?' A nasty grin crept over Tila's normally gentle features; she was sensing a weakness in the famous Count Vesna's glamour.
‘I do, but I do not use it-'
‘You will tell me,' Tila insisted to the squirming warrior.
‘I_’
‘Otherwise I shall feel honour-bound to put the idea in Isak's head, perhaps during the banquet tonight-'
‘No! No need for that, Lady Tila. I will be glad to tell you.' He paused and took a deep breath. 'My name is Evanelial, Evanelial
Vesna.’ He watched Tila glumly as she burst into sudden laug
hter.
‘You mean as in the story?' Tila began to laugh again, her usual calm deserting her as she tried to smother her giggles in her voluminous sleeve.
'The very same. The story was written for my grandmother, but according to my parents, it used to be a man's name.'
'Oh yes, very masculine – oh dear, look at me,' exclaimed Tila, suddenly aware that the eyes of the entire room were on her. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but with your reputation? Every boy in the tribe wants to grow up to be you, to be the consummate brave knight, the dashing rogue…"
'I know. And that's precisely why I don't tell people my first name – though most of them wouldn't admit to recognising it.'
The count's pleading tone got through and Tila began to feel quite sorry for him. She had two brothers and knew how cruel boys could be to their friends. The martial life was not a forgiving one, and even less so for those who shone brightest.
'You're right, I apologise. I shall not say a word. Please forgive me for laughing.' There was a smile on her face still, and Vesna nodded eagerly.
'Forgiven, Lady Tila, if you in turn will forgive me my reputation.'
The smile faded from Tila's face, but she could see nothing to provoke her earlier dislike. She inclined her head regally and stood. 'Perhaps I should not listen to tales. You appear loyal to Isak, so I shall not judge you yet. In the meantime, I believe I should be showing you to the barracks.'
She felt a pang of guilt towards Isak for being so friendly, but only for a moment – when Isak had greeted her earlier, she had seen great affection in his eyes, but nothing more. She wasn't quite sure how she felt, but if there had been something there, it had already faded for Isak. At some point they would have to talk alone, but there was no rush. She smiled wryly: Lord Bahl would be pleased.
They said their farewells to the veteran Ghost, then Count Vesna, bowing slightly, ushered her out of the room with all the grace of a practised courtier. Carel watched them go out side by side: at that moment he felt very old, so out of touch. That thought stirred him into action and he got up to go in search of Chief Steward Lesarl's offices. Surely there was something even an old man could do.
The guardsman on the door outside Bahl's study nodded to Isak and eased the door open. The old Lord had removed his hood and Isak
could see the concern etched on to Bahl's face. The light from the stained glass windows was weak, and a number of huge candles were already alight, their flames casting strange shadows on Bahl's furrowed brow as he sat at his desk.
'You're glad to have your friend in the palace?'
Isak smiled inwardly. Bahl was not one for small talk, but Isak hadn't been the only one to notice that he was making an effort – a minor thing, but it made him less remote. The people of Tirah had all heard the last joke Bahl had made at his Krann's expense, and that had helped dispel some of their fear.
'I have more friends here than I've ever had in my life, but it's good to see Carel again,' he agreed.
'He was a Ghost, was he not? Well, he may be more use than just
as a friend.'
Isak tried to stop his Lord: 'I don't want to have to ask that of him. He retired to a quieter life for a reason. I don't want to be ordering him to kill, or to spy for me.'
'I understand, but never forget that he was a Ghost. I hear he thinks
of you as a son.'
Obviously Lesarl would report on every new face, but it still rankled that Carel – his friend – had come under the Chief Steward's scrutiny. He didn't say anything, but dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.
'I suspect he'll demand to be involved soon enough,' Bahl continued, then changed the subject as swiftly as always. 'You know Count Vilan is in the palace to see his old friend, Sir Cerse?'
'I do, but I've told Vesna to be patient about getting court apartments,' said Isak firmly. ‘I’ll deal with Vilan soon enough.'
'Good. If you need a man to do it – or woman, he has several quite capable – then ask Lesarl. I know you don't like him, but you don't want blood staining your livery.'
‘I'll be careful. Was that what you wanted to see me about?' He was puzzled that Bahl would bother summoning his Krann for something they'd already discussed.
‘No. There are two other things. Firstly, I have decided you should leave Tirah.'
Leave?' spluttered Isak, incredulously. 'But I've only just returned!
Why would I want to leave?'
Bahl held up a hand to silence Isak's protest. 'You will hear me out first. I will not force you to go, but I believe it is for the best.' 'Was this Lesarl's idea?' snapped Isak, unable to keep quiet.
'I said listen!' bellowed Bahl, half-rising from his seat. His great hands gripped the mahogany desk as he leaned forward into Isak's face, the curl of a snarl appearing from nowhere. Isak matched it, rising himself. The shadows darkened in the room and the copper tang of magic suddenly filled the air as Bahl's anger flared. Isak's mirrored it, his eyes blazing, but before anything more could happen he felt a near-irresistible demand from Eolis. His hand twitched down of its own accord before he snatched it back in horror.
The shock restored his senses and he leaned heavily on the desk as the strength fled from his body, hardly aware that White Lightning was now nestled in Bahl's grip. The old Lord narrowed his eyes. He had expected an attack, but Isak was so stunned by the power of what had just happened that a breeze could have toppled him.
Isak looked up, slowly recognising Bahl's own readiness; his great blade was swept back and ready to strike. The younger man dropped to one knee, realising how close they had come to blows for no reason other than his own impatience. There was real contrition when at last he found his voice. 'My Lord, forgive me. I- I don't know what came over me.'
Isak slowly unbuckled his bleached leather sword-belt, a gift from the new Suzerain Fordan, and let it drop to the floor. Only then did he dare lift his head.
Bahl hesitated, wary of a ruse; it was a moment or two before cen-turies of instinct let him relax again.
Only then did Isak stand and retrieve his chair, waiting for Bahl's consent before sitting again.
'That's one reason why you should leave for a while. We've had enough of each other's company for a while. Also, with this Shalstik matter, I think it is safe to say they could try again. I want you to go west, to Narkang. It'll be a long way for trouble to follow unnoticed, and that aside, King Emin would be a good ally.'
Isak considered Bahl's words. He knew a little about Narkang, the emerging kingdom in the west, where all of the cities were populated by people of mixed blood, not pure-bred members of any of the Seven Tribes. The tribes had always looked down on half-breeds, but King Emin had created a nation to rival them all.
'Emin Thonal took the crown at the age of twenty-one, and three
years later he conquered Aroth, the larger of his neighbours,' Lord Bahl said. 'Two years after that the renowned warriors of Canar Fell
surrendered on the field rather than face utter destruction, and five years on, Canar Thrit bowed to economic pressure and voted to join Thonal's kingdom. In the space of twenty years, Narkang has grown to one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the entire Land.
'King Emin could be a valuable ally. Our man there is sure that the king has halted his expansion and there is room now for friendship. He could be vital if there's more trouble on the horizon, and you'll find more to learn about court politics in Narkang than even Lesarl could teach you here.'
'I will do as you command,' said Isak quietly, bowing his head
again.
'I don't want you to do as I command,' Bahl replied, softening his
voice a little. 'I want you to understand why this is a good idea. We've spent too long together on the journey back; I do not wish to let bad blood come between us. You're still young and hot-headed, I am perhaps rather set in my ways.'
Isak kept his eyes on the floor to hide his smile in case the old Lord had missed the humour in his wor
ds. The Krann knew he was rash, but Bahl's temper was at least as much of a danger to those around.
'Then I do agree, my Lord. I have no wish to be a prisoner in the palace, constantly on my guard for the next Estashanti assassin. And who could turn down the chance to visit Narkang?' He forced a smile to diffuse the last of the tension.
'Good. We will discuss this again later, but there is a rather more pressing matter, one that will, to a degree, explain your short temper. Tell me, do you feel anything different? Anything out of place?'
Isak shot his master a questioning look, unsure what Bahl was expecting from him. The Lord sighed.
‘No matter, I was not sure whether you would be able to actually tell, but I think it is affecting you anyway. You'll no doubt recognise it in future, once you've felt his presence more strongly.'
Isak's face remained blank. Bahl stood and spread his hands in exasperation. 'We have a visitor. I only noticed him once we had driven the elves out, but now he's in the city and about to arrive at our gate. Pick up your sword and come with me to greet him. Just keep your temper in check. He isn't as forgiving as some.'
Isak looked for a name, but was ignored as Bahl walked around him, a slight smile twisting his mouth, and opened the door. The main wing of the palace was four storeys high, with a warren of cellars extending beneath. BahPs chambers, which occupied much of the small top floor, had a balcony running around them to give a view of the city over the peaked roof of the Great Hall. The palace was rather more functional than the name suggested, lacking the decoration that characterised the homes of the richest noblemen in the city. Only small things, like the number of glass panes, belied Tirah Palace's martial image.
Both men wore soft leather boots; despite their size, they padded down the main staircase as stealthily as panthers, shocking the soldier and maid who were chatting conspiratorially at the bottom. Both jumped when Isak cleared his throat just behind them, bowing as Isak smirked, then moving swiftly out of the way as Bahl strode past imperiously.
In the Great Hall the two white-eyes drew curious glances, but those were cut off when the warning horn sounded through the clear winter air. Men jumped to their feet, bowls, glasses and goblets and cutlery flying in all directions as they scrabbled for their weapons. A pair of guardsmen had been just entering when the horn rang – by the time the louder steel clang of the attack alarm followed, they were ready, their weapons drawn.
