The ragged man

CHAPTER 18

'Count Vesna,' Lesarl called from the massive stone stair that led to the Great Hall, 'where exactly do you think you are going?'

Vesna wheeled his horse around and stared with some incomprehension at the Chief Steward. All around him the soldiers hesitated, sensing something cutting through the tension in the air. Vesna was surrounded by a hundred men of the Palace Guard, now in the process of forming up around a small party of officers.

'What are you talking about? You heard the message too!' he shouted back.

Half the palace had heard the man shouting as he raced into the Great Hall to deliver his message to Sir Cerse, and they had all exploded into action at the news.

'Yes, Vesna, I heard it only too well – which is exactly why you should not be going anywhere.'

Vesna gaped. 'What in the Dark Place are you talking about? We've got soldiers under siege at the Brewer's Gate, man – men of the Ghosts!'

Lesarl sighed theatrically and folded his arms, looking down at Vesna as though he was just a foolish child. 'I know you men of action get excited easily, but think it through a moment. Go back to the source of the problem.'

Vesna turned to his companions on horseback, Sir Cerse, Swordmasters Pettir and Cosep, and a bearded captain of the Ghosts called Kurrest. From the bemused expressions on their faces, he guessed none of them had a clue what the Chief Steward was talking about. Vesna's horse, a black hunter with padded barding covering its flanks and a steel chest-guard, tossed its head impatiently, refusing to stay still even when Vesna jerked on the reins to quieten it.

Letting his new-found divine senses filter out the movement all around so he could concentrate, Vesna replayed in his mind the report that had prompted immediate action. Surely it wasn't just a ruse? A soldier had run all the way to the palace, bringing news of a unit of Ghosts who'd arrested a nobleman under holy orders, one Count Feers, only to find themselves attacked by a party of penitents and priests of Karkarn. The Ghosts had driven off their attackers and retreated to the nearest safe place, the nearby Brewer's Gate barbican, where a permanent guard was stationed.

Now they were under siege, by increasing numbers of troops, and they had rung the attack-alarm to summon help. While it was possible this was a set-up, to lure a few companies of Ghosts out of the Palace, Vesna didn't believe it, not when individual squads out on routine patrol could have been ambushed on a daily basis if they wanted to.

Go back to the source of the problem. The arrest? Vesna tried to remember what he could of Count Lerail Feers – they hadn't ever exactly been friends. Feers was a deeply religious man, one of those who'd regularly denounced Vesna's lifestyle when he'd been a member of the Ghosts. He had been arrested for siding with the clerics against Lord Fernal – not a crime in itself, but for a nobleman to take holy orders without relinquishing his title was.

It had been prohibited for a millennium or more: all noblemen automatically had military rank, so taking holy orders was strictly prohibited lest it place wealth and weapons in the hands of priests. Only the Lord of the Farlan had a place in the three spheres of Farlan power, spiritual, temporal and military. Normally Feers wouldn't have been arrested, but as a count he had a number of marshals and knights under his authority, and by ordering them to also take holy orders he had committed treason.

'Piss and daemons,' Vesna said suddenly, 'you're worried about hypocrisy? You think they'll accuse me of the same crime…' Vesna didn't have any position within the cult of Karkarn, but he was the War God's Mortal-Aspect, and rank didn't really apply when the divine spirit surged through his body and he wielded the wrath of the heavens.

'Dawn and dusk,' Lesarl replied with a shrug. It was a mark of the strain he was under that Vesna's late realisation wasn't enough to amuse the Chief Steward – in quieter times much of Lesarl's entertainment had been at the expense of the soldiers around him.

'Don't matter which way it's going,' Swordmaster Pettir said, absently completing the saying, 'it's all fucking grey to me.'

Pettir was Kerin's replacement, a former major of the Ghosts who'd joined the legion in the same trials as Vesna. While there had been Swordmasters more senior, General Lahk had chosen to promote the low-born Pettir to the position of Knight-Defender of Tirah and commander of the Swordmasters because of the respect the troops had for him. Vesna had been glad of it; he and Pettir had been friendly rivals from the outset and the last thing the count needed now was any sort of pious deference.

'The wisdom of soldiers,' Lesarl agreed. 'It might be foolish for the Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn to arrive bedecked in the livery of a famous nobleman and hero of the army. Sir Cerse can deal with the situation himself.'

'You think they're going to listen to a soldier?' Vesna retorted angrily. 'All that politics has addled your brains, Lesarl. Fate's eyes, they aren't going to negotiate with the colonel of the Ghosts!'

'Right now it's debatable whether they will negotiate with anyone,' Lesarl said, making his way down the steps so they could continue the discussion without shouting. 'Your presence is as likely to be inflammatory as it is useful. Either they speak to Sir Cerse and follow the law, or they draw weapons on a regiment of the Palace Guard. That is a line they haven't crossed before; it isn't like the skirmishes individual squads have been getting into.'

'You want this to happen? You want a pitched battle on Tirah's streets?'

'Don't be facetious,' Lesarl snapped, 'you know me better than that. You change any situation, just as Lord Isak would have. You are a being of power who affects events by your very presence. With just Sir Cerse and his Ghosts there, they will either submit to the rule of law and be arrested, or they will make a move that will have to be condemned as treasonous by every other party involved. With you there, anything could happen, and likely as not it will involve more blood spilled.'

'Their blood, not that of the Ghosts,' Vesna promised with a scowl. 'Without me they may not have the decisive force to end any skirmish before it heats up. Fighting on the streets doesn't just happen; it takes time to fester, like a dog working itself up to violence.'

'Now who's the one to go looking for bloodshed?' Lesarl demanded. 'If – '

Vesna cut the man off mid-sentence by wrenching his horse away, towards the barbican. 'Unless the order is Lord Fernal's, I go with the Ghosts. You do not know his mind as well as Lord Bahl; you do not yet give orders in his name.'

Lesarl hesitated. 'That is easily rectified,' he called, turning back towards the Great Hall.

'Then do so. You'll find me at the Brewer's Gate!'

At Sir Cerse's order, the columns of Palace Guard clattered to a halt. The officers on horseback looked over the heads and Swordmaster Pettir swore quietly, voicing the thoughts that were running through Vesna's head too. There was a makeshift blockade across the street ahead, manned by a handful of penitents with bows. Their robes were grey with red hoods – Penitents of Karkarn – and they were led by a priest of the War God. More worrying still, they were accompanied by two liveried soldiers, sworn swords of Count Feers, most likely, both wearing scarlet sashes. It was not much of a guess to assume those sashes bore the Runesword of the Knights of the Temples, whether or not the Order was banned in Farlan territory.

'Come no further,' shouted one of the soldiers, walking a dozen yards from the barricade towards them. 'If you attempt to interfere with the work of the Gods you will answer to Keness of the Spear!'

Vesna, his lion's head faceplate raised, shared a grin with his comrades. 'I'd like to see how that works out for you!' he yelled back. He quietly told Sir Cerse to hold their position, then nudged his mount into motion and slowly began to make his way towards the barricade. A single knight was hard to interpret as great provocation by the archers, and whatever their masters said, the rank and file would be painfully aware of the law: killing a nobleman in cold blood was something the nobility frowned upon, and the punishment made the eventual hanging something of a mercy.

The priest of Karkarn advanced also, reaching the man who'd called out before bowing his head in prayer. Vesna felt the air swirl around above their heads as the priest, clearly a mage as well, called his Aspect-Guide forth. The bitter coppery taste of magic filled the air and Vesna felt a responding pulse of energy from the Crystal Skull moulded around the blade of his sword. The wind seemed to echo with the distant clash of steel and his horse slowed. Vesna urged it onwards.

The street, a wide avenue lined with shops, had been deserted when they arrived, and only a handful of nervous faces looked down from high windows out of the way of whatever was going to happen. The tensions of recent months had taught the locals to fear any potential confrontation; even the side-streets were empty.

Without warning a tall figure winked into existence beside the priest, as tall as Vesna atop his hunter, and carrying a cross-blade spear more than ten feet long. Keness of the Spear wore a shirt of chainmail, shining brass greaves and vambraces inscribed with prayers for safety in battle. The Aspect of Karkarn wore nothing on its head bar a knotted cord of red cloth like a circlet. It blinked and looked around, first at Vesna and then at the priest beside it.

'This is a city,' the Aspect rumbled, its words echoing around the street. It looked down at the priest beside it. 'My place is the battlefield. Why do you call me here?'

The priest gaped at the minor God beside him, astonished by its reaction. Unfortunately the sworn sword beside him was not so tongue-tied.

'They are heretics,' he shouted, jabbing his finger in Vesna's direction, 'here to arrest priests and commit crimes against the Gods.'

The Aspect gave Vesna another look and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. It gave a flick of the wrist and levelled its spear so the tip was an inch from the soldier's throat.

'You are aligned to Lady Amavoq. It is deference to her that stays my blade,' the Aspect said after a pause, slowly turning its head to look the soldier in the eye. 'Speak again and I will risk your mistress' wrath.'

The soldier backed away, his mouth open in terror, and the Aspect lowered its weapon. Vesna continued riding slowly towards the barricade. When he was fifteen yards away Keness bowed to him and lowered the tip of its spear to the ground in salute before stepping out of his way.

Vesna continued until he was level with the Aspect and the priest was within sword-reach. There he stopped and gave the soldier a cold look. The man was visibly trembling, despite being very obviously a veteran. It was one thing to see a few battles and take holy orders; quite another to see more than one embodiment of War standing before you.

'Keness of the Spear,' Vesna said to the Aspect, 'I apologise that you were disturbed.'

The Aspect inclined its head and calmly allowed Vesna to cut the flow of magic between priest and God. He vanished, and that done, Vesna turned his attention to the priest. From the markings on the man's robes he was a senior unmen, no doubt recently elevated because of his abilities as a mage.

'Unmen,' Vesna commanded, causing the priest to flinch, 'dismiss your men and go home to think about what you almost did.'

Without waiting for a response he waved forward the regiment of Palace Guard waiting behind. There was no word of argument from any of the penitents; they raced to clear the barricade and by the time the Ghosts trotted up there was a gap large enough for the troops to pass through two-abreast.

Swordmaster Cosep picked two troopers to disarm the penitents while Vesna led the Ghosts down the street and around the corner to where the rest of the action was happening. A dozen soldiers rounded it at the same time, and skidded to a halt when they saw Vesna and the column. The soldiers immediately turned and fled back the way they'd come, but as Vesna continued he realised that wasn't the good news he'd been hoping for.

The Brewer's Gate was a solid fortification in the northeastern part of the city. With produce normally flowing through it every hour of the day, it was no surprise that a small market had been established in the lee of the gate itself. Vesna saw the stalls had been abandoned, and the only people in the space now were armed – and well in excess of the numbers Vesna had brought with him.

The bulk of troops, on the right, were hurriedly turning to form line – they had not been expecting anyone to approach from the south, rather than direct from the palace – but Vesna ignored them, more interested in the squads at the gate itself. Men were huddling under raised shields, as though the occupants of the guardhouse were firing arrows down at them, while a second squad was keeping the gate itself firmly shut and barred.

There was no sign of blood having been spilled, and the only indication of confrontation was at the guardhouse, a square building on the left of the gate, where the attack alarm on the roof was sounding again.

'Who's outside the gate?' Swordmaster Pettir wondered aloud, but he didn't get a chance to speculate as a group of soldiers and noblemen marched up to address Vesna.

'Leave this place!' roared a middle-aged man wearing a single gold earring of rank. He wore chainmail and a heron crest on his brown and white livery. Vesna didn't recognise the man, but he had half a dozen hurscals at his side, and they had their hands on their hilts. 'You have no authority over the cults!'

'And what, pray, has that got to do with you?' Vesna replied in a calm voice, ignoring, for the moment at least, the lower-ranked nobleman's deliberate flouting of the traditions of respect. 'You are a titled man. You can have no affiliation with the cults.'

The man shouted, 'My allegiance to Nartis is my own business, not yours.'

'If you have taken holy orders, then it is my business,' Swordmaster Pettir interrupted. 'As Knight-Defender of Tirah, I am charged with enforcing the rule of law in the city. What say you?'

'I say I am a man of piety, you damned jumped-up peasant, and the Gods shall strike you down as a heretic if you claim otherwise – just as the charges upon which Count Feers was arrested are tyrannical, and against the will of the Gods.'

'But they are still the law,' Vesna answered, 'so you'll step aside and allow the Palace Guard to do their duty.'

'Under whose authority?'

'That of Lord Fernal.'

The man spat. 'The creature Fernal bears no authority. It has no right to claim rule over the noblest tribe of man.'

'That is a matter for your betters to decide,' Vesna said, nudging his horse forward while signalling for his troops to remain. 'The law on holy orders remains, however, and Count Feers has broken it; he must answer for his crimes at the Temple of Law.'

'Count Feers is guilty of nothing but proclaiming the majesty of the Gods and their authority over all,' the soldier roared.

'Then the Gods will see to it he is acquitted,' Vesna said. 'Until then he is under arrest.'

'You may not have him, nor may your lackeys!' the nobleman screamed, pointing towards the gate. 'We serve the Gods. We will die to protect their majesty.'

Vesna stopped. Clearly there was something he did not yet know about the situation. 'Who is outside the gate?' he asked.

'The heretics you sent to murder priests, the criminals who wish to plunder the temples and steal rule of the tribe from those the Gods intended,' he snarled.

Vesna scratched his cheek, where the ruby in his skin was suddenly itching fiercely.

'Kill them all,' whispered Karkarn in his ear. 'There is no place for madmen and fools in this Land.'

Vesna instinctively shook his head at the sudden intrusion, as though he could dislodge the God from it, and his hand twitched towards his sword before he could catch himself.

The nobleman saw the movement and took a step back to plant his feet more firmly. He gripped his sword.

Enough of your help, Vesna thought as he drove the War God from his thoughts. This must end without bloodshed, otherwise it will lead to civil war.

Carefully, deliberately he withdrew his hand, and when the nobleman had relaxed a touch Vesna dismounted. A man on horseback had a clear advantage in battle – whether they would admit it or not, Vesna knew the veterans would see it as a pacifying action. He removed his helm so they would be able to see the ruby on his cheek more clearly and walked towards them, not deviating when they turned aside and opened up the path towards the guardhouse.

The penitents standing ready at the door retreated when he reached them. Vesna could feel the eyes of everyone in the market on him, watching every small movement, waiting for the action that would spark the violence.

He thumped on the guardhouse door and called out, 'Sergeant? Is all well in there?'

He could hear the scuffle of feet inside, then the sound of boots on a ladder before the reply eventually came. 'Aye, sir, we're not harmed.'

'Then open the door please, and bring your prisoner out.'

'Ah, beggin' yer pardon, sir, but who's givin' the order?'

'Count Vesna, acting under the authority of Lord Fernal.'

Using Fernal's disputed title seemed to do the trick. He heard the screech of heavy iron bolts being drawn back, and something heavy being dragged from the reinforced oak door. It opened cautiously, just enough to catch sight of the man outside, but Vesna's armour alone was unmistakable to any man of the Ghosts. Quickly the door opened all the way to reveal the grim faces of a dozen Palace Guards, dressed in full battle armour. Behind them was the whiskered face of Count Feers, purple with outrage as he barged towards Vesna.

'You of all men come to accuse me? Murderer, adulterer, hypocrite – '

Vesna raised a cautioning hand. 'Think very carefully about your next words, Count Feers. Tensions are running high and there are already serious charges against you. If you incite others to violence against the Ghosts… well, I doubt you need much convincing as to the Chief Steward's vindictive nature. He would extend any punishment laid down upon you to every member of your family.'

The threat had the desired effect; Lesarl's reputation among the nobility was well deserved. However deep his fanaticism, Feers had a large family and it was a fair bet at least one of them meant something to him. It took a few heartbeats, but then the count's shoulders sagged and he capitulated, allowing the Ghosts to lead him out without further resistance.

'Ah, my lord?' one of the soldiers still in the guardroom piped up.

Vesna turned to see four anxious faces. 'What is it?'

'Outside the gate, my lord, there's a couple of regiments out there, under the command of Suzerain Yetah.'

'Tsatach's fiery balls,' Vesna groaned, 'that's the last thing I need right now.'

Now he realised why the Palace Guardsmen were looking so concerned. Kollen Yetah being here right now meant trouble in some form or another, though this was a curious twist, considering the nobleman's words of a minute ago. Yetah's family had been as entrenched in the Knights of the Temples as much as any man's, for a century or more – although they had always complied with Lord Bahl's edicts about the Devoted. Suzerain Yetah was an unlikely person to be bent on defiling temples.

'He's demanding the gate be opened immediately.'

'I'm sure he is.' To himself Vesna muttered, 'Damn, what part is he intending to play?' He didn't wait for the men to respond; there was only one way he'd get an answer and that was by speaking to the man himself.

'Open the gate,' he ordered.

The sergeant saluted and directed his men to start the process of removing the great bolts locking the gate closed. 'Lot of angry soldiers out there, sir,' he commented in a neutral voice, not wanting to sound like he was questioning orders.

'I know, but neither of us has the authority to deny a suzerain, and General Lahk is not here at present.'

Vesna confirmed the Ghosts with Count Feers were not being prevented from joining their comrades. The various troops under command of the cults hadn't moved. They didn't look happy about the situation, but as long as no one was raising weapons, Vesna was happy.

As soon as the gate opened a tall man with a mop of curly hair stormed through, four knighted hurscals at his heel. He looked good for a man ten summers older than Vesna, though he walked was a noticeable limp, favouring the right leg that had been recently broken when Lord Isak had called for soldiers to join his crusade.

Yetah wasn't the only suzerain to have moved troops into Tebran, just the boldest. He was an experienced soldier, having spent almost ten years in Lomin commanding a cavalry division, but he appeared to have lost none of his youthful belligerence in that time.

He walked straight up to the count, making a dismissive gesture when Vesna made to kneel and offer his sword, and cried, 'Good to see you again, Vesna- I hear congratulations are in order. Some filly broken you at last, or are you just getting old?'

A cuirass was plainly visible under the suzerain's livery, and he carried a red broadsword with a lightning flash down the blade that reflected his family's long-standing allegiance to the Devoted.

'A bit of both, my Lord Suzerain,' Vesna replied coolly. 'I am glad to see you are recovering.'

Yetah pointed to his leg. 'This? Pah, teach me to jump fallen trees on an old horse. Have you arrested Count Feers?'

Vesna blinked. Yetah's information was better than he'd have expected; the arrest warrant had only just been issued and had barely been announced to the city. 'He is in custody, my lord; the stand-off is over.'

'But the bastards are still here?' Yetah exclaimed, looking past Vesna. 'They're still armed? What's stopping you? They should all be in irons and on the way to the gibbet by now!'

'Gibbet? Sir, why are you here, and leading troops into the city no less?'

'Doing what must be done,' Yetah snapped. 'If you will do nothing about this gradual coup by the cults, then it falls to the armies of the Farlan to protect our nation.'

'Coup?' Vesna said in a daze. 'Yetah, you're a member of the Knights of the Temples – '

'You will address me as "my Lord Suzerain" – need I remind you that we are not peers?' Yetah replied sharply. 'As for my allegiances, they are none of your concern. I am a nobleman of the Farlan and a loyal soldier of the tribe. Whether or not a usurper currently holds the ducal throne, my duty to the tribe remains. I will not stand idly by while bloody mutinous priests exploit the majesty of their Gods to take power.'

Vesna looked back and saw the penitents drawing back, but rather than fleeing they were taking a defensive position at the mouth of a side-street. 'My Lord Suzerain, what you propose would result in a pitched battle in the streets of Tirah – we would have civil war – '

'If there are traitors within the tribe, let them declare themselves so,' Yetah shouted towards the penitents. 'This creeping theft of authority must stop. The politicking and deal-making to sell the nation is over. They will learn our resolve and discover the consequences of their actions.'

Vesna raised his hands, a pacifying gesture that kept them away from the hilt of his weapon as much as anything. Yetah's hurscals looked as fiercely resolute as their master, and itching for a fight.

Vesna had been hearing reports of suzerains reacting against the cults since returning to Tirah, but thus far it had been small-scale actions in distant parts. Suzerain Saroc had routed a party of a hundred soldiers at a monastery on his land, where they had been conducting Morality Tribunals and Tests of Faith that amounted to torture, but that had been the biggest engagement so far. Every morning brought news of deaths from one part of the nation or another, but they were all skirmishes involving a few dozen combatants at most. This was on another level entirely.

No one could ignore a battle involving hundreds on the streets of Tirah, nor fail to react to it. From where he was standing Vesna's view was restricted, but he could see at least two regimental banners behind Yetah.

'Suzerain Yetah,' he said carefully, 'contrary to what you have heard, the rule of law still governs the streets of Tirah. If you bring troops onto the streets of Tirah, you would be breaking the law, and force us to respond.'

'Don't bother to threaten me, Vesna, your position in all this is as much in question as that of the monster you serve now,' Yetah growled.

'Lord Fernal was named legitimate heir and Lord of the Farlan by Lord Isak, and I act in his name.' Vesna paused, trying to slow things down as much as he could. 'Suzerain Yetah, you must see that Lord Isak realised we need a strong ruler this coming year; we cannot wait for Lord Nartis to appoint a new Chosen! Without a figure to unite the tribe we will be invaded and conquered by the Menin.'

'Whatever the consequences of Lord Isak's warmongering, we will not accept a non-Farlan to rule the tribe – otherwise we might as well submit to Kastan Styrax and see his flag fly from the Tower of Semar!'

Vesna took a step back and lowered his hand to his hilt. There was obviously going to be no reasoning with the man. The ruby on his cheek glowed bloody red. 'Sir, with the greatest respect, I cannot allow you to lead troops into Tirah; I will not let you pass.'

'You do not have the authority to stop me, damn you!' Yetah roared, drawing his sword. 'You should have already given up the rights and rank of title – whoever your master, you have no right to command the Ghosts now, so get out of my way. I am acting to protect the tribe, and to stop me you will have to cut me down!'

Yetah started forward, certain in the knowledge that Vesna wouldn't kill a man of higher rank, but when a sword-tip appeared at his throat Yetah nearly tripped in his surprise and outrage. He looked at the count and blinked. 'Vesna, I mean you no harm. Step aside and let me pass. If you kill me, you will be cut down, or the law will see you hang, you know that.'

Vesna nodded. He did know it, and he knew too there would be no defence he could bring that would avoid it. Suzerain Yetah was his superior, both in title and military rank, and if he killed the man and avoided a hanging, that would invalidate any claims Lord Fernal might make about protecting the tribe's laws. He just had to gamble that he wouldn't kill the man.

'Then lower your sword, sir.'

'I will not.'

Yetah lurched to the left, trying to step around Vesna, but the count was a renowned duellist and swordsman, and he was there before him, his sword still raised. Yetah swatted the tip away from his face with his own blade, but as he advanced Vesna stepped forward and dropped his shoulder into the suzerain, shoving him backwards.

'Damn you, Vesna,' Yetah snapped. He struck without warning but Vesna was faster and caught the blade, again stepping into Yetah and this time hammering the pommel of his sword against the suzerain's cuirass.

The move drove him back another pace, but the space was quickly made up by the youngest of the hurscals, who swung a wild blow at Vesna's head. The count retreated, fending off blows for a few paces before flicking his opponent's sword away and punching the man's arm with his black-iron fist, snapping the bone and sending the man reeling into the hinge of the now-open gate.

A second man attacked with more purpose, his shield raised high. Vesna, moving with blurring speed, stepped around the hurscal's lunge, and the man fell screaming. A diagonal cut had sheared his shield in two, and the arm behind it.

The others hesitated, stunned by the count's unnatural speed.

Vesna took a step back. He could feel the power of the Crystal Skull begging to be used. As soon as he focused on it the Skull emitted a bright white pulse, and the remaining hurscals stopped dead in their tracks.

'Enough – stay your swords,' Vesna called. 'Suzerain Yetah, order your men back. I will not kill you, my lord, but I will kill any other man who tries to pass.'

No one else stepped forward. Vesna met the eye of each one. None had the strength of will to keep their weapon raised. He pointed to the injured men.

'See to your comrades, then leave this place and return to your own lands. Tell any others you meet: the law is not yours to protect, unless so ordered by the Lord of the Farlan. If any man intends to kill his fellow Farlan, he must face me first.'

He turned away and stopped dead when he saw the companies of the Palace Guard were lined up in defensive formation. Sir Cerse, the legion's colonel, offered him a crisp salute, and after a moment he returned it. They had been ready to defend him, even to fight their own alongside him if necessary.

And that's a gift even Gods cannot give, Vesna thought as the ranks parted to allow him through. Swordmaster Pettir handed him the reins of his horse.

'Lesarl will be pleased with you,' Pettir said with mocking cheer.

Vesna scowled. 'This cannot continue.'