by Tom Lloyd
‘This is the Di Senego Club. A small gentlemen’s club of no great importance to the would-be power brokers of the city,’ explained Emin as Mihn and Coran emerged in turn from the cupboard.
Mihn checked the door, then went to inspect the windows. Apparently satisfied, he took up a position by the door with a view of the whole room. The king moved behind the desk and unbuckled his sword-belt, hanging the gold-hilted rapier from one of two large hooks protruding from the wall.
‘Please, my Lord, take a seat. A few associates of mine will be coming up shortly. I know we have important matters to discuss between us, but these are men Morghien and I trust.’
Isak found himself a chair directly opposite Emin and unbuckled his own blade. The weapon rested comfortably in the crook of his arm as he sat down. He turned to Mihn, suddenly remembering the final gift, and pointed at the backpack.
He turned back to the king. ‘That reminds me, your—Emin. Morghien gave me a scroll to give to you, and I have another gift from Lord Bahl. A gesture of goodwill that he didn’t wish to be quite so public.’ Mihn pulled the bag from his back and retrieved the items, then placed both scroll and book on the desk.
‘Mihn has told me what he knows about Morghien, but perhaps you know more about what he wants with me?’ He knew he sounded a little whiny, but he was a little fed up with being the object of everyone’s interest.
Emin fixed his piercing blue eyes on the Krann for a moment, then nodded. ‘Of course, though the whole story is too long to relate.’ He picked up the scroll and waved it in Isak’s direction. ‘Can I assume you’ve read both of these?’
‘Of course. They wouldn’t have been given to me otherwise.’
‘Good, that will save time. As for Morghien, after his experience with the Aspect Seliasei, he wandered the Land and picked up one or two more passengers, and one of those incidents led him to be taken on as acolyte to a minor mage. They went on an expedition, organised by a group of scholars who had become acquainted through a shared study of the Mage Verliq’s works. The expedition was to the ruins of Castle Keriabral, Aryn Bwr’s own fortress. It fell during the Great War, under somewhat mysterious circumstances. They were escorted by a half-legion of Knights of the Temples.’
‘And what did they find? All the Seer told me was that Morghien was the only one who survived.’
Emin hesitated, hearing distant voices. ‘Coran,’ he asked, ‘could you ask them to wait on the stair for a minute?’
The white-eye nodded and left, closing the door carefully behind him.
‘It is something Morghien is unwilling to discuss,’ Emin told Isak. ‘It was five years before he felt able to share any of that experience with me. I hope you can understand that he would not like me to divulge such information freely.’
He paused for a moment. His face looked haunted. ‘All you need to know is that two men survived to walk back to Embere. They would not talk about their experiences, other than to say that they had looked Azaer in the face, and heard his dreadful voice. One was Morghien. The other was the son of one of the expedition’s leaders, a talented young man named Cordein Malich—’
‘Malich?’ interrupted Isak and Mihn as one. The king nodded gravely.
‘Malich. The young man who became the root of so many of your troubles. In exchange for his life, Malich made a pact of some sort.’
Isak sat up straight, a frown on his face. ‘So who, or what, is Azaer?’
‘Another mystery - and in my opinion, the most dangerous one. Among the members of this club are some of the finest minds around, academics and mages, but all we have discovered so far is that there is neither God nor daemon called Azaer. The last man who worked on the problem must have been getting somewhere, for Azaer decided to make an example of him. He was haunted by his own shadow and died, with his wife, in a locked room. I cannot and will not ask anyone else to face such a death again.
‘Even so, it continues to snare others, victims of chance whose deaths serve no purpose that I can fathom beyond Azaer’s own amusement.’ The king leant forward on his desk as he spoke, his knuckles whitening.
Isak pointed to the book on the desk. ‘According to Cardinal Disten, the man who wrote that book, Azaer was not really worshipped as such. Malich was a necromancer, he dealt with daemons. Cardinal Disten says he invoked Azaer’s name as a warning, a threat to others.’
Isak felt a little foolish; Emin surely knew far more than he did, but he gave no sign of impatience.
‘Then that in itself is instructive,’ he said, contemplatively. ‘Daemons require worship from their followers as Gods do. From what I can work out, Azaer encourages only fear, causing misery and pain whether his - its - name is mentioned or not. It’s a subtler mind at work than a daemon, and I think perhaps, given how infrequently he acts, it is reasonable to say his power is weaker too, more suited to encouraging others along a certain path than creating the path itself. Azaer lives in the shadows—’ He paused as Isak flinched, but the Krann said nothing.
After a moment Emin continued, but he was watching Isak carefully now. ‘Azaer lives in the shadows, manipulating events, perhaps even thoughts, but why, we don’t know. Those foolish few we’ve found worshipping Azaer have treated him as a daemon or a God, but generally it’s been an individual, out for personal gain, rather than a huge group of people. My suspicion is that Azaer tolerates such a use as long as his name is associated with fear.’
‘So what does he want with me?’
‘The same as the Gods, the same as the Knights of the Temples, and probably the White Circle too. And right now I’m afraid we have more pressing concerns than even Azaer poses.’ He raised a hand to ward off further questions and called out, ‘Coran, bring them in please.’
Isak turned to the door as it opened to admit a group of men, varying in age. The white-eye took up position by the wall at Emin’s desk. The first two men into the room were so engrossed in discussion they didn’t even notice Isak, until a third gave a strangled squawk at the sight of him.
‘Gentlemen, please come in and find yourselves a seat,’ called Emin in a schoolmasterly tone. They turned to the king and collectively mumbled assent. From their clothes, Isak realised they were noblemen, but none of them looked at him with the suspicion he’d been greeted with at the baths.
‘Lord Isak, may I introduce you to some friends of mine? The two elderly conversationalists at the front are Norimin Dele, Chief Librarian of the College of Magic, and Anversis Halis, my uncle. I’m not entirely sure why he’s here, so we will ignore him for the time being, until he cannot keep himself from talking any longer and Coran throws him out.’
The librarian gave a throaty chuckle and patted his companion on the shoulder as Halis dismissed his nephew’s words with an abrupt wave of the hand and sank into an armchair. From the glare Coran was giving Halis, it might be less of a joke than Emin was making out.
‘Norimin, how goes your search for the Stigmata of the Last Battle?’
‘Ah, well now!’ the librarian exclaimed with enthusiasm. ‘We have several interesting reports to follow up on - a young woman in Cholos has apparently had bouts of bleeding down the centre of her skull since the spring of last year. One of our friends has agreed to bring her to Narkang, so I hope to be able to bring her to the club and investigate matters further.’
‘Excellent, I look forward to it. Please, take a seat. Next, Lord Isak, we have two rather more reputable men - in that they were founding members of the criminal organisation that so plagues this city. Sir Creyl, and Marshal Dorik of Tohl. Sir Creyl is also Commander of the Brotherhood.’
The two each gave a respectful bow and found chairs opposite the older men.
‘And Counts Alscap, a long-time ally, and Antern, whom you have already met.’
These men bowed also. Antern positioned himself closest to King Emin, while the large, ruddy-faced Count Alscap was content to sit beside Isak and eye him suspiciously.
‘Count Alscap is one of the newest
members of our club and thus knows less of our activities than most,’ the king added softly. ‘I hope to persuade him that his influence could be better employed here than for further increasing his already impressive fortune.’
‘Well, he’s not convinced of that, and is in no rush to discover more - but he is in the king’s debt and willing to be of what service he can,’ Count Alscap said to Isak, his voice deep and rather abrasive.
‘Well,’ declared Emin, realising they were now all staring curiously at his guest, ‘I hope my news will be sufficiently mundane for you, Count Alscap. Antern, Creyl and Dorik know this already, but for those of you who do not, you may have noticed that this year the Spring Fair is going to be the largest yet. Every tavern, inn and stable is already full; some enterprising spirits have even erected tents as temporary inns.’
He looked around the room. So far no one looked that interested. ‘That in itself is not a problem,’ he went on. ‘However, it has come to my attention that there are more men coming in than have taken lodgings.’
Isak saw Count Alscap and the two older men sit up straighter.
‘Too many of the wagon-trains have too few wares, and too many attendants, if you pay the attention some public-spirited thieves do.’
‘Have they been able to investigate the wagons?’ asked Isak cautiously.
‘No,’ replied Sir Creyl, leaning forward in his seat, face flushed purple with anger. ‘Two of our boys were caught and flogged to death by the guards. No local man would dare do that, not go up against both the law and the Brotherhood. As soon as the watchmen arrived they were bribed to ignore it, a good amount too. Fortunately for us, they quietly took the money and left to report it immediately to Commander Brandt. We encourage our watchmen to appear open to such offers.’
‘Lots of men, wagons that they don’t want thieves to investigate - who’s planning the rebellion then?’ Isak looked round at the assembled faces, but they were all turned to the king.
The king cleared his throat. ‘As far as we can tell, it’s the White Circle. We’ve identified a number of known mercenary captains among the men coming in, which the Devoted would have no need for, even if they weren’t noted for executing mercenaries at every opportunity.’
‘But that’s not like the White Circle, they’ve never led or funded an uprising anywhere,’ protested Alscap. ‘They’ve always used influence and money to get what they want. Even the war in Tor Milist - they may be the guiding force, but they’re neither paying for it or fighting it. Why would they change tactics now? Their detachment has worked well in the past.’
Everyone was nodding in agreement, though Isak wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about: the White Circle kept cropping up, but all he really knew was that it was a sisterhood of rich women and Lesarl had not been able to infiltrate it - unless his beautiful assassin had managed to inveigle her way in by now. Everyone knew Helrect was run by a woman, Siala, a duchess by marriage-but she used no title, to underline the fact that she ruled without her husband’s participation.
‘True enough,’ replied Count Antern, ‘but Narkang is rather greater a prize. Three months ago they brought a man into the city - we think he’s to be the leader of this uprising. Most mercenaries will take money from women, but not orders, and none of the men associated with the White Circle here are capable of leading an army of any sort.’
‘None still alive, you mean,’ muttered the librarian, Dele, darkly. ‘I can think of several men who’d have done it well enough before they contracted “sudden illnesses” soon after their wives decided to join the White Circle.’
‘That bastard Jex,’ bellowed the king’s uncle suddenly. Half the room flinched at his unexpected outburst.
Halis muttered an apology as his nephew said, ‘Correct uncle, Herolen Jex. It took us a long time to discover who he was exactly, but even without his history, it’s clear he could fill the role perfectly.’ He looked at Isak. ‘You probably won’t have heard of Jex: he was a pirate captain from Vijgen, apparently quite famous if you have time for pirate tales, but he is both ruthless and intelligent for certain.’
‘In any case,’ Count Antern said, ‘the end of the Spring Fair would be the logical time to attack. All of our informants agree that’s the day. Half the city will be drunk, and they know the king will have to be out on the field to reward the winners of the tourneys and tilting.’
‘So what’s your plan?’ Isak’s question cut to the point and silenced the room.
All heads turned to the king as he stood and leaned heavily against the desk. His head was down as if scanning a map or battle plan. Slowly, he lifted his cold eyes. ‘An educated guess would put their numbers at one and a half thousand men. The normal strength of the Kingsguard in Narkang is five hundred. This has been doubled over the past few days, carefully enough that I doubt they have noticed. This still leaves us at a disadvantage, for all that their mercenaries should be inferior to my Kingsguard.
‘I have a man who should have reached Brodei Castle by now. Reinforcements will arrive sometime around the end of the fair. What we have to do is be ready for the assault and fight a running retreat to the palace. Once inside, they’ll not have the time, nor the skill to break us.’
‘Jex is an arrogant man,’ added Antern severely, ‘but he’s no fool. He knows the running retreat will be our instinctive reaction; the king is never unguarded. We expect him to divide his force with the bulk attacking the king, and perhaps a third at the city gates to cut off any break-out we might be planning.’
‘What if they close the gates? Barricade them? Even with troops in the city you’d be dead before they fought their way through and opened the gates again.’ There were murmurs in support of Isak’s objection, but Emin merely smiled evilly.
‘Then they will have a deeply unpleasant surprise. For the duration of the fair the gates remain open. This is, of course, to encourage the debauchery and excess that my people expect and require. While I can hardly be enthusiastic about that, it is convenient that the Gatekeepers do not have to be in residence, as they would normally. I don’t know whether our little traditions are known to the Farlan, but the opening and closing of the gates are normally accompanied by a small ceremony. Nothing overly complicated, but significant nonetheless.’
‘And the point?’ interrupted Isak.
‘And the point, my Lord, is that it is merely a pleasant little tradition that the folk of the city have grown fond of over the years. Without one of the Gatekeepers there the ceremony will naturally be omitted, and the reason for it will become apparent.’
‘A magical lock?’ All heads turned to Mihn at his suggestion. Emin shook his head.
‘Not quite. I must admit the inspiration came from tales of the black gates of Crafanc, though we have employed the idea in a different way. I must admit I’m keen to see how well it works, since we’ve not really been able to test it out. What isn’t public knowledge is that the Gatekeepers of the city have all been ordained Priests of Death. If a priest opens or closes the gates, all is well. If anyone else does so, the daemon bound within the shrine above the locking mechanism will be released.’
A gasp ran around the room. Even the two men of the Brotherhood, Sir Creyl and Marshal Tohl, looked shocked. The Chief Librarian shuddered. Isak had to suppress a chuckle. It was just the sort of evil idea he was beginning to expect from Emin.
‘Please, calm yourselves. It is perfectly safe for the citizens. The daemon is restricted to the gatehouse and we will have none of our people inside for the entire fair. Watchmen will be guarding the gate, of course, but I believe the duty is known as a retirement post since it is essentially ceremonial. They will surrender before pointlessly laying down their lives.’
Isak looked around at the men in the room. Mihn had a thoughtful expression on his face: but he was quite as calculating and dispassionate as King Emin. Antern and Coran had obviously heard nothing new, but the others were completely unsettled.
‘What role can I pl
ay?’ Again Isak brought a sudden hush to the room.
A smile crossed Emin’s face. ‘I appreciate the offer, my Lord. At the risk of sounding crude, you are the most effective killer in our midst. While your men are few in number, each and every one would have an honoured place in the Kingsguard, and that would make a nice surprise for Jex - but it would also make you as important a target as me. I would be more than grateful if you did find an opportunity to kill Jex, but please remember that there are witches and mages within the White Circle. Keeping yourself alive might prove complicated enough—’
He broke off as a clatter came from the cupboard. Coran immediately pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and advanced, hand on hilt. Isak shifted his body so Eolis was in an easier position to draw, but as the door crashed opened it was a panting Veil who tumbled though. He held a lamp in one hand. It was clear from his gulping breaths that he’d sprinted the length of the tunnel.
‘Your Majesty, you must return to the baths!’
Emin, apparently ignoring the urgency in Veil’s voice, reached leisurely for his sword as he asked, ‘What’s happened?’
‘Herolen Jex, my Lord. He’s challenged Lord Isak’s man to a duel.’
‘So tell me what happened,’ Isak said quietly. They were sitting in his apartments at the palace, large, airy rooms that were sumptuous even by Farlan standards. The style was almost opposite to what they were used to: smooth white walls instead of the grey stone of Tirah. Highly polished stone, inlaid marquetry and etched metal decorated almost every piece of furniture, even the candelabras, and doors and panels were beautifully carved into intricate designs.
Carel stood with his head low and hands clasped together. ‘My Lord, it was my fault. I’m not used to being around noblemen. In the barracks, things are simpler—’
