The stormcaller

CHAPTER 29

The journey to Narkang was swift and pleasant. The Parian party was carried by luxurious barge down the Morwhent River, accompanied by a merry procession of boats of all shapes and sizes. To Isak's immense surprise, he found the noblemen who welcomed him into their manors each evening to be likeable and open people; King Emin's rule was now twenty years established, but the titles were still held by those who had supported his conquest. In the place of the old nobility the king had installed merchants, ambitious minor nobles and more than a few pirates and smugglers who'd joined the war effort. It was said that Emin Thonal couldn't resist the friendship of an arrogant rogue, though a number of those had found to their cost that the king was not a man whose trust could be abused.

The Farlan saw a vibrant nation, proud of their successes and unashamed that they had no particular one of the seven tribes to call ancestor. It was a long way from how the Farlan liked to think of the 'lesser peoples', but that it worked was undeniable. When they exercised their horses each morning and evening it was with an escort of elite Kingsguard who clearly held the Ghosts up as their benchmark and were keen to prove themselves their equal in horsemanship and sparring. The competitions were good-natured and cheered on by the local people whose adulation of the Kingsguard was marvelled at by the Ghosts. Leaning over the barge's rail, watching the fields sliding past, Carel pointed out that it wasn't only Isak who had something to learn from this nation.

Isak cantered gently up the slope, studying the King's Man waiting for them at the top of the ridge. They were approaching Narkang, so they'd spent the whole morning in the saddle: tradition dictated that Farlan always ride into a foreign city and Isak wasn't about to break

with custom just yet. Doranei had taken himself off that morning, riding ahead of the party to ensure its path was unhindered.

Despite Isak's initial suspicions, Doranei had proved good company as they travelled through the country he loved. The man knew when to talk and when to keep a comfortable silence. The Krann suspected he had a few secrets of his own – perhaps all of the Brotherhood did – and they had taught him the value of silence.

There was a sparkle of spring in the air. A brisk breeze ran over the fields and whistled over the road before shivering through the branches of a bank of ash trees on the other side. Through the trees Isak could see neat rows of crops and a manor house in the distance. Boys lazed on a paddock fence, coaxing horses over to them, while the cattle they were tending drifted aimlessly in the meadow. As Isak and his companions neared the peak of the rise, the wind changed direction and brought the taste of salt from the ocean.

They reached Doranei, who stretched an arm out to present his city.

'Behold, my Lord: Narkang, First City of the West.'

Beside Isak, Tila gasped. A wide, open plain stretched out before them, painted the vibrant green of spring and dotted with dark copses of copper beech and elm. In from the east came the Morwhent, the river that had carried them most of the way to the city, now running wide and slow. A pair of high arches spanned the river to a small island in the centre, which allowed the sandstone city wall to run unbroken even by the river's passage.

From the banks of the river the wall followed the curve of the ground up and around in a gentle undulation to encircle wide regular streets of purple-slate rooftops.

Occupying the higher ground deeper inside was what could only have been the White Palace, its twin silver-capped towers glittering in the sunlight. The lower ground of the western side, where the river entered the city, was hidden by the walls, but a great copper dome shone in the sunlight. Past that, faint in the distance, Isak could see a soaring slender tower that would have been remarkable even in Tirah.

And somewhere even further beyond, vague and grey in the distance, lay the ocean. Isak could feel the immense weight of water lurking at the back of his mind, an old and powerful presence, but comforting nonetheless. The magnificence of the ocean, stretching out to the distant horizon, beyond which lived the Gods, overshadowed even the glory that was Narkang.

A thousand flags fluttered and whipped from the walls of the city, a disordered mix of colours and shapes, and a huge banner hung above the Southern Gate. The banner was almost as large as the massive copper-plated gate itself, and even at this distance, the visitors could easily make out the golden bee with its wings outstretched over the green background.

'It's a fine sight, is it not, my Lord?' continued Doranei as the remaining Farlan soldiers vied for position to take in the view. 'Visiting foreign climes is an easier thing to do when you've Narkang's smile to return to.'

'A fine sight indeed.' Vesna and Carel nodded their agreement. The city was confirmation that Narkang's power equalled that of Tirah, and they all knew it.

As if Narkang was not enough, the low plain in front of the city was a hive of activity. At least ten great pavilions and stands were being erected, while long swathes of tent cloth lay out on the ground, ready to be raised. Hundreds of cut posts lay in stacked piles; cables and ropes snaked all over the ground and a veritable army of people scurried in all directions with wagons and livestock. Flocks of sheep were being herded to the joyful yaps and barks of the hounds protecting them, drowning the calls of the shepherds and those in their path.

The Spring Fair, my Lady,' supplied Doranei as Tila cast him a questioning look. 'It's due to begin in two days, the day before the Equinox. It will be the biggest yet. I believe the entire city will rejoice at your visit, Lord Isak.'

'I see a scarlet banner over there. It's hard to make out, but I'm guessing it's the Runesword of the Devoted?'

'It is, my Lord.'

'And you still think I'll be welcomed by all?'

'I doubt the Knight-Cardinal wishes to make an enemy of you, my Lord.'

'After what I did to his nephew, I hear he wants to make a corpse of me.' Isak laughed grimly.

'His personal feelings are still secondary to the requirements of his office, my Lord,' Doranei said sternly. 'First, there is the fact that you might be the Saviour his Order has been waiting for; second, the Devoted are not so powerful as to openly defy King Emin.'

'Surely the existence of Piety Keep is a fairly obvious point of defiance,' interjected Vesna. The Fortress of the Devoted was jokingly referred to as Piety Keep, a nickname the Order despised. Lesarl had warned them all that using it in Narkang could easily result in big trouble.

Doranei scowled. Isak guessed that he didn't mind about the name, just that politics intruded on the pleasure of returning home. ‘The matter is not quite so simple, but I'm sure the king would prefer to debate it himself.' He broke off as the two rangers trotted up with a third man, dressed like Doranei, right down to the bee at his throat.

Doranei smiled, and said, 'My brother, Veil, has taken word to the king that you have arrived. Royal processions take a little time to get moving. I'm sure you understand.'

Veil didn't dismount, but touched his fingers to lips and forehead in salute to the followers of Nartis, struck his fist against Doranei's and then whipped his horse around to return. Despite the similarity in dress, the man looked nothing like Doranei. Isak thought it a fair assumption that under Veil's long dark hair was another tattooed ear.

Carel ordered the guards to dismount, brush down their horses to remove the morning's dirt and tend to their uniforms – just one morning back in the saddle had taken its toll on the cream cloth. Isak found a handful of oatcakes in his saddlebag and a hard hunk of cheese to chew on as he swapped his saddle from Megenn to the more impressive Toramin. The gelding was a fine horse and superbly trained, but the fiery stallion was Isak's favourite. Toramin's dark flanks were draped in a pure white cloth so that only his head, neck and hocks were exposed. Isak's helm dangled from his saddle, within easy reach.

Isak turned to see Vesna struggling into his armour for the first time in weeks, chuckling to himself as the man fought to free himself of a snag. Magic might have made the black-iron lighter than normal, but it was no less awkward. Tila was already wearing full court dress; she had ridden side-saddle all morning. Now she perched with practised ease, fastening charms and jewellery to her dress before wrapping a silken scarf artfully about her head.

The wait was much shorter than anyone had anticipated. Isak, lazing on Toramin's back, had been watching first Veil's passage to the city and then the activity on the plain. Veil had disappeared inside the city only a few minutes previously, but a faint chorus of trumpets prompted a double column of horsemen to trot out through the gate and split away to line each side of the road. Once these troops were out and ready, a second fanfare announced another group of horses, this time no more than twenty in number.

In their usual order, the Farlan cantered down the slope. The spare horses and baggage had been quartered with a merchant Doranei knew – Isak knew that this meeting of rulers could potentially be momentous and he saw no reason for either ranger to have to say he was a mile back and looking after the horses when Lord Isak met King Emin for the first time. They might have been stoical veterans, but they didn't deserve to miss out on the fun.

As soon as they heard the fanfare people arrived to line the broad thoroughfare that led to the city. There was quite a crowd by the time the Farlan neared the centre of the plain, all eyes straining to see the foreign white-eye. As he passed the first few, Isak caught mutters and whispered oaths but he ignored them. He knew as well as anyone that Siulents alone was an intimidating sight, and the enormous dragon-emblazoned charger only added to the effect. Toramin's shoulder was just shy of six and a half feet from the ground; with Isak on top the sight was absolutely awe-inspiring.

Looking ahead, Isak began to make out individual faces in the procession; he tried to fit them to what Tila had schooled him on over the past few weeks. Out at the front was obviously Emin Thonal, King of Narkang, dressed in his own colours. Some white material showed through slashes down the sides and arms, clearly the height of fashion, if the other noblemen were anything to go by. A wide-brimmed hat topped with a feather sat cocked to one side on his head, again echoed by those behind him. Isak couldn't help but wonder, with all he'd heard about this man, whether he chose his dress just to see who would follow.

At the king's side rode his queen, brightly clad in spring colours, on a slender bay. Though she was a little older than King Emin, Queen Oterness was both dignified and elegant, and neither the grey wings in her shining auburn hair nor the faint lines around her eyes detracted from her serene beauty.

The king's bodyguard rode behind the royal couple, a white-eye the size of General Lahk called Coran, who had been the king's closest confidant since he took power. Rumours about the king and his friend persisted as the queen failed to produce a child, despite the white-eye's well-known appetites for the city's plentiful whores. Lesarl's spies had

concluded there was little to the gossip; the pair were close through the attractions of power, not of the flesh. Coran was dressed soberly in a neat and functional tunic similar to that worn by Veil and Doranei: not quite a uniform, but enough that Isak knew to look for a bee device and tattoo when he was near enough.

As the two parties converged, Doranei gave a small twitch of the hand and the escorting columns of Kingsguard moved off to drive the burgeoning crowd back from the road. Careful to give the Farlan more than enough room, the soldiers turned their horses halfway out towards the crowd, then turned inwards in their saddles to salute.

Carel growled an order and the advance section of Ghosts split away and fell behind before the two parties actually met. Isak led the remainder a little way into the funnel of Kingsguard, then reined in so he could approach on foot. Tila had quietly mentioned that it would hardly be seeming for King Emin to greet his guest from two or three feet lower: there was still a huge difference in height, but on horseback it would only be accentuated.

Taking that as their cue, both parties followed suit and strode forward to meet each other. With hands out, palm up, Isak approached the king, who swept off his hat and executed a deep bow. Feeling awkward, Isak was about to follow suit when the king stepped forward to grasp Isak's arm in friendship.

'My Lord Isak,' King Emin declared in a clear, cultured voice, 'please be welcome in my kingdom.'

'King Emin,' Isak replied, keeping his voice at a similar level, 'I thank you, and all the people of Narkang and the Three Cities, for the welcome I have received every day I have spent in your kingdom.'

Isak bowed as he spoke. Tila had told him that the Farlan had never officially acknowledged Emin Thonal's self-coronation, so those words made a significant gesture, both politically and theologically.

Understanding showed in Emin's eyes as he returned the bow.

He looked younger than Isak had expected. He had ruled Narkang for twenty summers, taking over the city when he was only a little older than Isak was now, but his hair was untouched by grey, the light tan glinting in the midday sun. He had handsome features, dominated by a strong nose and brilliant blue eyes. Looking into those knowing eyes reminded Isak of Lord Bahl's own piercing stare. He lost himself there for a moment before remembering protocol required him to speak again.

'May I present those I bring with me? Count Vesna, the Lady Tila Introl, and Marshal Carelfolden, the Commander of my Guard.' The king nodded to each as Isak held a hand back to Tila and she passed him the gifts Bahl and his Chief Steward had so carefully selected.

'Your Majesty,' Isak continued, 'please accept these as gifts of friendship, the axe named Darklight-' he held out the wrapped weapon and Emin immediately loosened the cord to pull off the canvas covering. He lifted it up: a single-headed axe with a wickedly curved spike on the reverse, made from a single piece of dusky steel, not black-iron but something other, with four rods of steel strengthening the wooden shaft. Cut right through the body of the blade were five runes: light shining through as their edges glowed red. The king handed the covering to Coran and slipped one ring-bedecked hand about the grip. The Chetse had small fingers, so one of the guardsmen had carefully added extra leather binding to Darklight's grip. As King Emin flexed his fingers about it, Isak thought they had underestimated, but the king took a few practice strokes and appeared delighted with the result. He beamed at his guest and passed the weapon back to his bodyguard, who rewrapped it, then cradled it carefully in his

arms.

'For your queen,' Isak continued, 'I offer these jewels, created solely for her and those who share her family line.' He handed King Emin a small leather box, which he passed carefully to Queen Oterness.

The queen opened the box as carefully as her husband had unwrapped Darklight, but her gasp of wonder was entirely spontaneous. Nestled inside the velvet-lined container were twelve brilliant-cut emeralds, set in gold, connected by four thin chains of gold to a larger emerald. As soon as the queen touched one of the emeralds, all the jewels started to twitch, and one length of chain reached out tentatively to touch her hand. Snake-jewels were famous enough that the queen knew what to expect, but still she looked alarmed as the golden chain began to work its way up her arm. She trembled slightly as the jewels slid with a reptilian movement towards her shoulder, but every-one was watching, so she ignored her fear and gracefully inclined her head towards the largest emerald.

With delicate care the chain wove itself in and out of her gleaming auburn hair, carefully positioning the jewels until the large emerald had wriggled its way to the surface at her forehead. The smaller emeralds now circled her head like a crown. Once they were all in place,

they stilled. The queen reached up to touch them hesitantly – they felt like normal stones, normal gold, except for an almost imperceptible warmth.

She smiled at her husband, then curtsied deeply to Isak. 'You honour me,' she said. 'I do thank you, for me and for my daughters to come.'

For a moment Isak glimpsed the sadness in her eyes and recalled the couple were still childless, but then Queen Oterness smiled, and it lit up her eyes. Isak smiled back and inwardly sighed with relief. He hadn't been sure the snake jewels were right – they'd startled him when Tila had shown him how her grandmother's set of sapphires worked – but Tila had promised him that once over the initial discomfort, any woman would adore such a gift. The jewels had some property imbued in them that seemed almost to enhance beauty. Certainly Queen Oterness was almost glowing now.

Isak had decided not to offer the last gift, the book, publicly. A Murder of Cardinals was an account of the Malich affair, written by Cardinal Disten, the man who had exposed the plot in the first place. Isak suspected that King Emin would disappear with the book and pore over it for hours, probably with his curious friend Morghien, at the first opportunity.

. Now King Emin bowed again, and said, 'My Lord, your generosity overwhelms us. I fear I have nothing to offer a man so blessed with gifts as you, but the freedom of my city and realm are yours, as is my lasting friendship.'

Isak smiled: this was all going well. The host should offer nothing but friendship, and since that was what Isak had been sent to win, he was pleased. His first attempt at diplomacy was not going too badly, at least so far.

He indicated his retinue and said, 'We look forward to exploring the beauties of your city; thank you for your kindness.'

'And,' continued the king, 'if such a friendship results in sufficient trade to require an embassy here, I would be delighted to offer you the former duke's residence in perpetuity as your home away from home; a little piece of Tirah in Narkang.'

From the murmurs, Isak guessed the offer was both unexpected and generous. He bowed again, not sure if he should do or say anything else, but the bow seemed to suffice.

The king was speaking again. 'But I have been remiss in my introductions. Lord Isak, allow me to officially present to you Queen Oterness.'

The queen held out her hand and Isak took it gently, as Tila had taught him, and kissed the silk of her glove.

'My bodyguard and friend, Coran,' he continued, indicating the people as he spoke, 'my Prime Minister, Count Antern, and the Chief Councillor of the Public Assembly, Morten Deyl.'

Isak inclined his head briefly to each one. Coran looked like a thug with the brains to realise he was nothing without the king. Count Antem looked every inch the sly, ruthless politician that Lesarl had described: the man was utterly loyal to his king and had profited enormously by it. The only unknown quantity here was the Chief Councillor: Morten Deyl had recently been elected to head the Public Assembly. He'd come from almost complete obscurity, but his first year in office had resulted in a host of allegations and rumours. To Lesarl's fury, he had still not discovered who had engineered the vote.

Isak noticed the Chief Councillor's narrow eyes never left Eolis the entire time, even when he bowed. Whatever else he was, the man was a coward.

'Now, my Lord, I'm sure your companions are tired from the journey. Apartments have been prepared in the White Palace for you and your staff – and this afternoon I thought the public baths might be an excellent place to visit. Even if I do say so myself, I think you'll agree they really are quite magnificent.' His enthusiasm was infectious and Isak was not the only one who found himself smiling at the thought of such a luxury after their journey.

Isak stood on a balcony above the courtyard of the palace, surveying the neat beds of red, orange and white flowers that lined the white stone walls. There was a surprising absence of guards – the whole palace felt genteel, elegant; Isak thought it was overly relaxed, and definitely vulnerable. Huge, ornate golden cages standing on pillars all about the grounds housed a multitude of extravagantly coloured songbirds whose voices filled the palace. Isak recalled what the Seer of Ghorent had said: he could well imagine how beautiful the grounds would look when thousands of butterflies arrived. The network of gravel paths, ornate fountains and marble statues was a far cry from the hard-packed earth and tired, worn grass of Tirah Palace's training

ground. What few guards there were wore gold-plated armour and appeared to be as ornamental as the songbirds.

'He must be very sure in his power,' Isak commented to Vesna. 'This place is wide open to attack.'

The count had been very glad to get out of his armour now that the formal introductions were over; their overtly militaristic dress felt rather uncomfortable in these refined surroundings.

'He's designed the place carefully, that's for sure,' he replied. 'Look carefully: those walls, for example – the top piece is wooden. I'd wager that a unit of men with hammers could knock out the pins, drop them down inside the wall and be there to man the battlements underneath within minutes. Did you notice the ground outside the outer wall? It's not solid. That's just a layer of earth over boards, no doubt covering a deep ditch. And these apartments? They form a ring, accessible only from the inside. If the main wall is breached, Emin has the higher roof of this ring to turn that pretty courtyard into a killing ground.'

Isak looked around once more. In place of a defenceless fancy palace with a sculptured garden, he now saw a classical two-wall castle. He pictured the king himself, and his feathered hat: the absurd headgear hadn't detracted from the man's coldly brilliant eyes that looked as if they saw everything.

'That does seem to be the theme of this city,' he agreed. 'I wonder what else we'll find hirking under the finery?'

Til keep my eyes open in the public baths, watch out for the smiling and the harmless, as my father would have said.' Vesna took a bite from an apple and leaned against the balcony, looking up at his Lord.

'Yes, I'm sure you'll find something to look at there. All those married women bathing… Tila won't speak to you for a week,' Isak teased.

The designers who turned Narkang's half-dozen natural hot springs into one of the great wonders of the Land had created three smaller chambers alongside the main public bath. The first was reserved for soldiers; the king's habit of ennobling his supporters meant many of the city's rich elite were scarred veterans. The smaller chamber afforded them a degree of privacy, and allowed the younger generation to mingle with military heroes. King Emin hoped lessons learned by the older soldiers would be passed on not only through training, but by talking.

The second was for women only, so unmarried girls were not on public display, as they would be in the main bath.

The last, the smallest, was a private bath chamber reserved for the royal couple. Few had ever been invited into this sanctuary; it was a rare honour. Since Doranei had been the one to bring Isak's invitation to join King Emin there, it was clear that there was real business to discuss – business that needed to be kept private.

They were summoned to the courtyard an hour or so later, to find King Emin and a line of litters ready for them. His entourage was smaller; the only newcomer was a rather harassed-looking man, unevenly shaved and obviously uncomfortable in his dress uniform. The man couldn't have been more than thirty summers, but from the way he was shifting from foot to foot it looked like he could think of far more productive ways of spending his time than sitting in the public baths with some foreign dignitary.

'Lord Isak, this is Commander Brandt of the City Watch. I know you have your Ghosts, but it will be Commander Brandt's responsibility to ensure they are not required. You have the freedom of the city, but I'm afraid you might find a rather troubled Brandt trotting along behind.'

Isak smiled. That made sense: Commander Brandt might have started out as one of the ambitious noblemen of the Kingsguard, but he'd obviously had the shine rubbed off by years of chasing criminals. 'He's young to be Commander of the Watch,' Isak commented. There was a tense pause and then the Krann grinned at Brandt. 'I assume that means he's good at his job, so I'm delighted to have him on hand.'

Relief flushed over the commander's face. At King Emin's gesture, the Krann made for the litter with the largest bearers. Most of them had a half-naked man at each corner, their skin oiled, jewellery hanging from their ears and about their necks. Each bearer had curious leather thongs hanging from their wrists. As Isak stepped towards his litter he saw four more bearers move up discreetly to share the weight.

Tila had warned him that litters were the normal choice inside the city walls, but Isak doubted that the bearers had ever had someone of his weight. He tapped the edge of the frame before sitting down, glad at least to feel a strong metallic frame under the cloth. Satisfied the litter at least would bear him, Isak made himself comfortable.

The bearers allowed him a moment to settle, then carefully wrapped the leather thongs about each handle and lifted. A slight grunt came from one of the men, but none wavered. The man on the back-right corner checked his team to make sure they were not about to drop one of the most powerful men in the Land, then they stood ready while the rest of the party did likewise.

Mihn ignored the litter and stationed himself on Isak's left, steel-shod staff held as a walking stick. A small bag hung from his shoulders, tied tight to his back so the book and scroll it contained would not restrict his movements in case of trouble. Commander Brandt took up his station on Isak's right. His hand rested on the rapier at his hip; his eyes checked out every other figure in the courtyard.

King Emin waited until his guests were sorted before he climbed

into his own litter, then the whole procession set off, quickly finding a natural rhythm. They shuffled with surprising speed, out under

the peaked arch and into the city. Each litter had a thin bamboo

framework hung with silk so the passenger could draw a curtain and

block out the city, but Isak was far too interested in seeing Narkang.

Tirah was a grey city, all ancient stone and brooding clouds. The

buildings in the main streets were tightly huddled, and many of the

canopied walkways on each side had evolved into covered arcades.

Narkang was completely different: life took place in the wide avenues,

and the streets served as extra space for the hundreds of taverns and

stalls.

It was hard to see much of the buildings surrounding the palace, but Isak got the impression that most were centred on large open courtyards. Gates opened as they passed, people crowding outside to watch the royal procession. There were fruit trees laden with blossom, clay tiles and colourfully painted shutters on the tall windows: they all combined to make the city look bright and friendly – an appearance that belied the iron bars crossed over every accessible window.

'Commander, I hear you have a simple job policing this city,' Isak said, leaning forward slightly.

Commander Brandt gave a snort of laughter, but as he opened his mouth to retort he caught the smile on Isak's face. 'In what way, my Lord?' he asked, anxious to hear the young Lord's reply.

'Well, if Narkang is all controlled by the Brotherhood then surely whenever a crime has been committed you just arrest one of the leaders.'

Brandt laughed, but Isak saw him stiffen too. The mention of the Brotherhood had triggered the reaction Isak was seeking.

'It's not quite so simple,' the commander said. 'The Brotherhood might have great influence over what happens here, but it's still a long way from controlling all activity in the city. I think that if it tried that, the leaders might well wake up to find Coran explaining how this would not be an entirely good idea.'

'Coran?' Isak asked, then he recalled, 'Ah yes, the king's bodyguard. Tell me, do the Devoted have a significant presence here?'

Brandt opened his mouth, but said nothing – maybe he didn't know what to say. He looked over the crowds, looking for distraction to excuse himself, but saw none. Reluctantly he returned to Isak, who was waiting impassively. 'They do, my Lord. The Knights of the Temples are far older than this kingdom, and in some part it has been the maintenance of those links that has prevented all-out war in these parts, not just recently, but for hundreds of years.'

'So they're popular then?' Isak's tone was cold.

The commander understood, and ignored the question as best he could.

They are traditional, Lord Isak – that's perhaps the best way to describe it. In some families boys grow up knowing they are expected to join when they leave childhood. The Knights that rule the cities are sometimes seen as overly strict, perhaps, but they have strong sympathisers among the ruling families.'

'And your own?'

Brandt frowned, but didn't hesitate to reply. 'Certainly in my family. My father was a member, my elder brother, Suzerain Toquin, is a major in the Order. My sister is married to a colonel, who may one day be vying with my brother for the post of Knight-Cardinal.'

'And you?' Isak wondered whether the king was playing a game, setting a Knight of the Temples to guard him.

'My father didn't bother with me. I was too far down the line of succession. He thought a watchman might be of more use to the family than a priest. Not that I regret it; I'm truly married to this city and the laws that keep it. That, I think, is enough ambition for any man.'

Isak nodded, lost for a moment. It was easy to envy Commander Brandt if he spoke the truth: he knew his city, and loved it like a mistress. He could see his purpose and pursue it; his successes and failures were clear and immediate. Isak lacked that luxury. He'd never even

seen most of his nation. The flag, the tribal characteristics clear in a man's face, the Farlan dialect – were these things enough for someone to love? Wars had been started over nothing more than one man's fits of pique – did it even matter what was real under the weight of history's tide?

'An ambition fit for any man,' Isak agreed at length, and with approbation. Now he lay in silence, wondering about the course of his life, playing with the ring he wore on the middle finger of his left hand: a shaped tube of silver an inch long engraved with his Crowned Dragon crest. Farlan men did not generally wear signet rings, ever since Kasi Farlan, young and impetuous then, had lost his temper with the older and more skilful Koezh Vukotic. He had lost his little finger and signet ring in the subsequent duel.

'Commander, do you have a son?'

The man looked startled at the question, but answered, 'Yes, my Lord. My eldest is a boy, nine winters.'

Isak pulled the ring from his finger and held it out to the man who, after a slight hesitation, took it. He inspected the engraving.

'Give this to him,' Isak said. Tell him to look at that dragon when he wonders what the future holds – and not to dream too hard. Tell him never to forget that he's just a man, like any other.'

The commander tucked the ring carefully into a pocket before re

plying, 'My Lord, that's good advice for anyone – a boy of nine or a

king.'

Isak nodded sadly, unable to meet the commander's gaze.

The rhythmic slap of the bearers' leather-sandalled feet and the swish of their linen skirts on their bare legs marked the procession's steady progress into the heart of the city. The pungent scents of waste, smoke, food and sweat swirled all around. A line of brown-coated watchmen kept the people back as the crowds swelled, all eager to see the foreign princeling. The houses were wooden here, and closer together, though still prosperous-looking. They all had roofs of the distinctive purple-slate tiles.

Up ahead Isak caught sight of what had to be their destination: an imposing stone building that looked down upon the whole district through massive vaulted windows. The two-storey-high apertures lined both of the longer sides, and each contained a bronze statue, taller than Isak, that watched the streets below. He could see three: Ilit carrying the Horn of Seasons, Belarannar, Goddess of the Earth, with ivy curling about her shoulders, and, in the centre, Vasle, God of Rivers, for the baths were dedicated to an Aspect of the river God.

They entered a wide courtyard, in the middle of which stood a statue of a woman clothed only in sheets of rushing water. A brass plaque on the plinth she stood upon gave thanks to Baoliss, daughter of Vasle. A large copper bowl half-filled with water sat at her feet; coins, jewellery and small figurines had been left there as offerings and thanks.

'My Lord,' Mihn's soft voice barely carried above the bustle around them, 'it might be sensible to leave a generous gift with the Goddess. This place is her only domain; she might find your presence threatening.'

Isak thought for a moment, and quickly agreed; his encounter with Morghien had left him wary of divine sensibilities. A handful of gold emins would be a small price to mollify Baoliss; he had enough to worry about already without upsetting a Goddess. He patted his pockets for a suitable offering, but he'd not come prepared. He whispered to Mihn, who nodded and ran over to Vesna's litter. Another short conversation and he was back with a small but heavy leather pouch, which he handed up to Isak.

Isak reached out and tapped a bearer's arm. The man gave a short whistle and the litter-bearers stopped, but before they could lower the litter, the white-eye had slipped his legs over the side and was standing.

Ignoring the staring faces, he approached the stone figure and carefully poured the emins into her bowl, silently thanking Vesna for having the forethought to provide himself with local currency. He smiled to himself: typical of the king to name the coins after himself! As the emins splashed in, Isak felt a presence at his shoulder. A shiver ran down his spine as a whispery breath floated over his ear, then vanished. The echo of a giggle wafted up from the gravel, and then he was alone, with just a vague feeling of a smile touching his skin. That was enough to reassure him.

'My Lord,' called King Emin. The queen and Coran stood behind him, both with an air of anticipation. Count Antern seemed to have disappeared somewhere; Isak couldn't see him in the crowd of faces. The Krann took one last look at the statue and bowed almost imper-

ceptibly, then cast around for his own retinue. They had gathered at an appropriate distance behind him. Isak and his party joined the king at the marble-pillared entrance and followed him in.

Isak stared at a massive, beautifully intricate mosaic that showed the God Vasle leading a torrent of water down a river towards a column of elves. He had no idea if this was some famous battle.

He turned his attention back to the long hallway, trying to ignore the stares from those sitting on the sofas and chairs that lined the room. At least a hundred people sat, or stood facing them. Isak recognised the hostile expressions, even if the faces were unknown.

There was a wide range of dress and colour, but Isak noticed a good many red sashes bearing the crest of the Runesword of the Devoted, and several clusters of white-shawled women. One of the parties of women included a man in their group, though the others appeared to have male escorts at the side.

As King Emin and the Krann began to walk down the hall, talk recommenced, though Isak noticed the women in white watched silently. He began to feel rather like an insect that had crawled on to the best carpet: a particularly large and interesting insect, but still not one they intended to touch.

King Emin, for his part, appeared to notice nothing. Nodding to smiling faces as they presented themselves, he swept down the corridor with all the confidence of a crowned monarch. This, Isak thought in passing, was what Tila had been trying to drum into him.

And here was the first lesson. The king commanded the room immediately, dominating the attention of all, secure enough to merely note those faces that didn't smile at him. The tangible air of confidence Emin brought with him made up for the fourteen inches he conceded in height to Isak. Even the brisk stride he had adopted to keep up with Isak's long legs contained no element of rush or hurry.

The corridor led to a small arched doorway, similar in style to the main entrance, but blocked by a brass-bound door. On either side stood a soldier of the Kingsguard, resplendent in dress uniforms – but however beautifully etched, the spearheads were still sharp, and lethal. Off to the left lounged three more obviously armed men: Doranei, Veil and a particularly tall man with ash-blond hair and a rough scar down his cheek that spoiled his otherwise good looks.

They straightened as their king approached, and the guardsmen pulled the doors open to display a circular pool some eight yards across, steam gently rising from the surface. The walls were tiled in tiny ceramic pieces: this mosaic detailed a scene of feasting and relaxation and stretched all around the chamber, disappearing behind a partition the height of a man that ran along the wall opposite the door.

Marble nymphs sprawled at the edges while another statue of Baoliss sat at the far end, a trickle of steaming water running from her hands into the pool. Busts of the Gods sat in alcoves, the eyes of each picked out in expensive colour: sapphires glinted from the blank face of Nartis, gold shone from Death's cowled head. It was the brilliant emeralds shining from the Lady's perfect features that caught Isak's attention. She was a curious choice, for the Lady was not of the Upper Circle. He didn't doubt that the king had a good reason for her presence.

Doranei and his colleagues marched straight in and headed for the far wall, where there were three high windows, about six feet off the ground. Without breaking his stride, Veil raised one foot and placed it on to a ledge that Isak could now see running the length of the wall, two or three feet high. From there he leapt easily up on to the sill, a dagger drawn but hidden, and peered through the open windows to the outside wall. His search for spies satisfied, he gestured to the others.

Doranei retrieved a pole from one corner and passed it to Veil, who used it to hang heavy pieces of linen attached to rods over the open windows, obscuring the view for any outside observer, but leaving the room still light enough to see each other's faces. Isak thought it rather excessive, but this was Emin's city.

'Lord Isak.' The king stood by the wall that sectioned off part of the room and beckoned him over. 'I'm afraid we don't have time to enjoy the comforts of these restorative waters. Perhaps you would take my word that they are excellent and follow me?'

Isak gave the man a quizzical look as he disappeared behind the partition. Coran stood back impassively, just far enough to permit Isak's passage. He looked around: Doranei and his colleagues – Isak guessed the scarred man was one of the Brotherhood too – waited on the other side of the pool.

With Mihn close behind, Isak followed the king behind the partition to find a polished wooden bench opposite a small stone shrine at the far end. The shrine, the height of a normal man's chest, had empty slots for incense sitting before an icon of each God of the Upper Circle.

'Excessive piety has its uses,' commented Emin as he indicated the shrine. 'Would you be kind enough to move that to one side? It should go very easily for one of your strength; it pivots about the right-hand side.'

Isak looked suspiciously at the shrine, but he could detect no magic anywhere so he nodded and gripped the sides carefully. The shrine did indeed twist to the right with almost no effort. The wide base moved aside to reveal a hole in the ground. Isak peered in, he could see nothing. The king smiled and bowed in mock thanks, then stepped past the Farlan Lord and crouched down to the hole.

'The city worries that I have some distressing skin condition. I spend many hours at the baths, so they naturally fear the worst. My doctor is well paid to possess a creative imagination, and by half a dozen others to reveal all he knows. He's starting to enjoy it now, I think.'

He smiled and dropped through into the black depths. The Krann

turned and caught Mihn's amused expression. He still couldn't see

anything, but if the king had taken that fall so easily, how could he

not? Another lesson, it appeared, whether intentional or not: find out

how deep the hole is before you show it to anyone else! Isak reached

a hand out into the space before him and concentrated. It was easy

now. Within a few seconds a faint blue glow began to emanate from

his fingertips, then it increased in intensity, creeping out to caress the

smooth walls of the tunnel below and the floor, perhaps seven feet

down.

Emin waited casually to one side, one eyebrow raised theatrically at Isak's use of magic. 'Come, my Lord, time is a-was ting.'

Isak dropped down, followed by Mihn, and then Coran lowered himself down carefully and deliberately. Isak was puzzled until he saw Coran drop the last few feet on to his right leg. Interesting, Isak thought: given the recuperative powers of most white-eyes, either that damaged leg was a recent injury, or it had been a very severe one.

The king reached out and touched his fingers to a rope that ran all the way down the side of the wood-beamed tunnel. With the light Isak still brandished it was unnecessary, but Emin still trotted his fingers along the rope as he walked off down the slightly sloping tunnel, followed by Coran and then, with a shrug, Isak and Mihn.

As Emin chattered idly away, the hole quietly closed up behind them.