The stormcaller

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.

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 laughter.

‘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 words. 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.

Bahl, a vision of calm, walked through the open door, Isak still close behind him. The stone steps that led to the training ground were icy and treacherous, but he trotted briskly down and made his way straight to the barbican. Isak noticed a bright light flaring from the normally murky depths of the tunnel.

As he hurried to keep up with Bahl, a wave of awareness broke over

him and rocked him on his heels. He could feel a burst of magic echo

out, an alien feeling that set every nerve screaming danger. His hand

flew to Eolis so quickly that the Ghosts scrambling past leapt back in

surprise.

He had half-drawn the blade when he realised that the old Lord

was still quite unconcerned. No doubt he could feel the same, but he

appeared not to mind. Ramming Eolis back into its sheath, Isak broke

into a jog and caught up. Now he recognised the difference that Bahl

had mentioned, the feeling of something that was out of place.

As they entered the tunnel, they saw six men with weapons drawn, frozen into silhouette by a gigantic figure. A deep bellow of laughter

echoed towards them while massive flames danced from the outstretched hands of the monstrous visitor. Isak felt Bahl draw magic into himself and followed suit, fighting the urge to tear Eolis out and charge straight in.

As he closed, Isak took a better look at the newcomer, and realised with a gasp that it was a Chetse white – eye, a huge man whose barrel chest almost surpassed description. The Chetse was shorter than Isak, only a hand taller than the guards levelling drawn bows at him, but lack of height did not detract from his unbelievable size.

All Chetse were muscular compared to the Farlan, and this man could have been a caricature if it hadn't been for the aura of raw, limitless strength that surrounded him. He was cackling with sheer pleasure as the leaping slices of fire raced up to the roof and played in loops about his arms.

'Lord Bahl,' boomed the man as he saw the pair approaching. The Ghosts almost sagged in relief as Bahl motioned for them to lower their weapons.

'Lord Chalat, welcome to my palace,' replied Bahl warmly as the Chetse released the magic. 'May I present to you my Krann? Lord Isak – Lord Chalat, Chosen of Tsatach.'

Isak bowed awkwardly, his obvious discomfort merely widening the Chetse's grin. Bahl then cocked his head to one side and Isak tore his gaze away from the white-eye, finally noticing the curious sight beside the Chetse: pinned up against a wall was a fully armoured guardsman, his weapons on the floor at his feet. The foot of some small foreigner was planted firmly on his throat. The little man held a steel-tipped quarterstaff ready and showed no sign of putting up the weapon. Looking over to the other Ghosts, Isak saw one was sheepishly wiping blood from his mouth and another looked less than steady, his helm knocked askew.

‘And your companion?' continued Bahl after a pause. 'And why is he trying to kill one of my guards?'

Under that gaze, the small man bent his leg at the knee, keeping his stance for a moment before lowering his leg. He stepped back, adopting a rather less aggressive pose, but still impressively proud in he face of a white-eye almost two feet taller.

‘Ah, now there's a man with a story,' replied Chalat in heavily accented Farlan, his good humour undiminished. 'Offer us food and drink and we'll tell you all.'