The Twilight herald

CHAPTER 16

As long fingers of cloud drifted silently past a crescent moon, Doranei made his way to the heart of the Northern district, to the house of King Emin's agent in Scree. It was at least two hours past midnight by his reckoning. His head had been throbbing since the play and he was struggling to be sure he had not been followed. The most likely candidate was Zhia herself, however, and he wouldn't stand a chance pitting his wits against the ancient vampire, not even if he were at the top of his game. The hot night air mixed with pain, wine and bewilderment was making it hard for him to remember the way.

The streets were dead, strange for a man whose training ground had been the never-sleeping criminal dens and murky side-streets of Narkang. Doranei turned into a nondescript road and halfway down, after one last check around, slipped a key from around his neck and unlocked an unremarkable door set slightly below street level.

'And which of the six pits of Ghenna did you fall into tonight?' said a soft voice from the darkness within.

'One of the more curious ones, Beyn,' Doranei replied. 'Did every¬one get over safely?'

All present and correct. We thought you'd been taken.'

'I almost was. I certainly wasn't in much state to carry on run¬ning.'

'So?'

Doranei felt he didn't know Beyn well, despite being in the same unit for the past seven years. Beyond their service to the king, Doranei knew only that Beyn liked to spend his time charming women with his striking looks – usually only for the challenge.

'So I went to the theatre instead.'

'The theatre?' Beyn paused for a few heartbeats before he chuckled. The Brothers all developed a rather twisted sense of humour sooner

or later, characterised by the ridiculous wagers they were constantly making with each other. Doranei knew his story would amuse them alll. 'Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Go and make your report to the king now.'

Despite his headache and injuries, Doranei smiled. A moment of interest, then he was dismissed. That was the Beyn he knew, aloof, insufferable at times, but always aware of his duty. Doranei crossed the room to the door. A dim glow spilled out from the hallway as he opened it and he looked back to see Beyn sitting with a crossbow cocked and pointing at the street door. They exchanged nods and he left in search of the king.

The nondescript house was large enough for the thirty members of the Brotherhood and the handful of others King Emin had brought along. It was surprisingly well built, for only a quiet murmur reached his ears from the other end of the corridor. Doranei thought of the house's owner, a locally renowned artist called Pirlo Cetess. It would be good to see him again – if he was still alive, of course. There were none of the usual decorations one would expect from a household in mourning, so perhaps their assumptions had been wrong when their messages had gone unanswered. He could only hope so.

'Doranei, so good of you to join us,' King Emin commented as Doranei entered the main reception room. The king's head never rose from the papers strewn over a large mahogany table. By the light of a torch Sebe was shaving another's face. That was the way in the Brotherhood: they would trust none but each other to put a blade to their throats. That had been a little harder after Ilumene had gone on His killing spree, slashing some of the king's closest friends to bloody ribbons and carving his name into the queen's belly. But trust there must be, and certainly there could be no mirrors allowed in the house. A reflection lacked substance; it was too close to a shadow to be safe.

The king was dressed in grey tunic and breeches. Black braiding differentiated him from his men, but not from the shadows. Are you hurt?' he asked.

'Not badly, but it'll be a week before my left arm is useful for much.'

'Haven't been trying to feed guard dogs again, have you?' He chuckled grimly.

Veil, the man with the shaving bowl perched precariously on his lap, smirked and Sebe paused in his labours to push hack his own tangled hair and grin at Doranei, his scarred cheeks crinkling as he did so. Doranei just blinked at the king and shrugged. When he had been five, Doranei had tried to pat a dog through the bars of a gate. The guard dog has taken half of his little finger and a piece of his childhood innocence, but the lesson had been learned. It hadn't been mentioned in Doranei's presence for years, yet the king remembered.

'I went to the theatre, your Majesty.' That made King Emin look up, Doranei noted with satisfaction. 'In the company of Zhia Vukotic'

The king went so far as to raise his eyebrows. 'Well now, that is an interesting turn of events. I wonder how you managed to hurt yourself at the theatre.' The king straightened and gestured towards a small stairway beside the fireplace, normally hidden by a bookcase. 'Come and have a look at this.'

Doranei followed the king up the narrow stairs into Cetess' private study, where the artist hid those academic interests that coincided with the king's. It was a small, windowless room, carefully removed from the eyes of the city, and Cetess' patrons, when they visited. The room was in complete disorder, papers and books scattered everywhere. A sense of dread twisted in his gut.

'Where is Cetess?'

'A good question,' the king replied, gesturing towards the far wall. 'So far we've not been able to find out exactly what happened, but there are more than a few worrying details.' He pointed at a blank tablet, identical to those overlooking the king's bedroom, hanging on the wall. 'Look.'

It took Doranei a moment to work out what was wrong. The tablet, a smooth piece of purple Narkang slate cut from the same slab as its pair, was completely blank – and that was the problem; what hap¬pened to one happened to the other. They were delicate creations and easily damaged, but this hadn't been hurt. Only a thin wisp of chalk dust marred its dark purple surface.

'I might not know much about magic, but isn't that impossible?'

'I know quite a lot about magic,' Emin replied, 'as do Endine and Cetarn. We all agree that it is impossible. Neither of our learned col¬leagues have an answer.'

And you?' All the Brotherhood were in awe of King Emin's re¬markable ability at problem solving.

'Perhaps the sheer impossibility is reason in itself? Magic is a fickle beast, and the advantage oi n‹›t being a mage is that I do not pretend

to be its master. Mages assume they understand the nature of that beast, but when one observes magic, it squirms through your grip.'

'I don't understand, your Majesty.'

'Neither do I,' Emin said with a smile. 'But this thing has been done; a thing we know to be impossible. Therefore what if the only way it could be accomplished is if we could easily recognise it as im¬possible? That the clandestine deed could only succeed if its secrets were betrayed.'

'That was an explanation?'

The king laughed at Doranei's bemused expression. 'Hah! Not quite, merely my thoughts on the subject. The message on the tablet in my room was not written by conventional means, else it would still be here. You cannot erase such a message once the tablet is broken. So the message was done by unconventional means, as a way to lure us here. The fickle nature of magic means that it can only be accomp¬lished if the task fails.'

'But we are here,' Doranei objected.

The king raised a finger. 'Here, and yet aware that we have been lured here, and thus forewarned of any ambush in the making; per¬haps even protected until we have the opportunity to realise the trap exists.' He shrugged, one long finger sweeping away an errant strand of chestnut hair. 'It is only the makings of a theory, nothing more. I have yet to make sense of the idea.'

'I wish you luck. Have you been able to find out what happened to Cetess? Was it – him?' Doranei was hesitant to speak Ilumene's name in King Emin's presence, the Brotherhood's only traitor, and loved as a son by his king.

Emin shook his head. 'No, nothing certain. The servants tell of voices in the night, laughter echoing through the walls and shadows in empty rooms. There is little sense to be made of it, yet it is reminis-cent of Azaer's deeds in Narkang.' Emin bit his lip thoughtfully. 'All we know for sure is that every single member of his staff swears that Ceess locked up the house as usual and retired to bed. When they awakened, the house was still locked, but he was gone. He hadn't slept in his bed. There was no sign of violence, no body, no keys.'

'So what do we do now?'

Emin raised an eyebrow. 'I think I should hear about your evening.' He sat at the small desk protruding out into the centre of the room and fixed his piercing blue eyes on Doranei, who eased his pack off his shoulders as gently as his injured arm would allow and let it fall to the floor with a metallic thud. He did likewise with his leather tunic, eager to be rid of its steel-strengthened weight, and dropped into the other chair in the room.

He cradled his left wrist. 'My night at the theatre,' he muttered with a rueful smile, 'came about because of the good aim of a Farlan agent.'

'Now you're just teasing me,' the king said.

Doranei held up his hands. 'We're not the only ones interested in Scree, not by a long way. Here's what happened…'

King Emin and Doranei spent more than an hour, going over the faces in the crowd, the actors – and the vampire Zhia Vukotic. Doranei hadn't been able to concentrate much on the play itself – a tragedy of mistaken identity centred around three princes all falsely claiming to be the Saviour – as his pain grew throughout the evening, but he tried to recall every detail. He watched a grim resolve fall over Emin's face as he suggested, a little nervously, that one of the masked actors could have been Ilumene.

'But you could not swear to it?'

'No, his role was small.' Doranei grimaced as he tried to clarity his suspicions. 'There was something about the man's poise. He over shadowed the lead actors without having to speak a word.'

The king didn't reply. His chair creaked alarmingly as he leaned back, scowling into the distance. Doranei began to wonder what state Cetess' wine cellar was in. All he could think about was spending what was left of the night in the loving embrace of a bottle.

'Come,' the king said at last, and made for the door. 'We should speak to Endine and Cetarn. I think they will have to provide our first lead.' He opened the door and stopped, his hand wrapped around the brass handle.

For a moment Doranei saw his king as a weary old man, embittered and burdened. The brilliant blue of Emin's eyes looked dampened by age, and his hair in the weak light looked momentarily grey.

'Don't let me make this about revenge,' Emin whispered. Doranei almost reeled in shock at the sudden show of weakness, but the king was lost in his thoughts and did not even notice. 'Promise me that when it comes to it, you'll stay my hand.'

'I-you don't mean to kill Ilumene?' Doranei asked in confusion.

'That's not what I meant. Ilumene is now a valuable servant for Azaer, there can be no doubt about that, but that was not the only reason he was turned. It was one betrayal I could not stand, the one 11 in would cloud my judgment. When the time comes you might have i" remind me that our true goal is not revenge. Azaer grows stronger now – the twilight reign may soon be upon us, especially given that We believe the prophecy mentions this city, and then there will be no time for petty vengeance.'

Doranei's eyes widened. 'And Coran? He'll kill me if I get between him and Ilumene.'

'Let me worry about Coran; our bond is strong enough to restrain him. We must find Ilumene and the minstrel, and work out what they are doing. Revenge will have to wait.'

'In that case, I will be there to remind you.'

'Thank you.' The king straightened his back and stepped through the doorway. 'But first, we have to find them.'

The two mages they had smuggled over the wall into Scree while

Doranei led most of the guards away were an unusual pair. No doubt

there had been a good few jokes about getting Shile Cetarn's bulk over the wall, though they all knew it was Tomal Endine who would cause the most problems – Mage Endine looked like a sickly child, with thin arms and pale, squinting eyes. He barely reached his colleague's chest, but though he looked continually wary of being crushed by Cetarn's bulk, be could usually be found in the larger man's lee. If he had to run more than twenty yards, he would probably expire in a wheezing fit.

As weakness produced a constant nervousness in Endine, so Cetarn was infuriatingly cheerful, and as was often the case with close col' leagues, the pair bickered and squabbled like an old married couple. Despite his physical frailties, Endine was also a fair battle-mage, and both bad a grasp of the subtleties of magic that made them invalu¬able,

Doranei and the king found the pair at last in the attic, a dusty c‹ ›r ridor runnining the length of the peaked roof and piled with discarded furniture, where they stood glaring at each other over a sheet-draped table that bad been placed in the middle.

Gentlemen,' the king said, a note of warning in his voice, 'we will not be having an argument at this time of night. Cur presence here is supposed to be secret. There will he no repeal of last year's incident at

the queen's birthday celebration.'

Cetarn's head snapped up. 'If you think I'm going to let him get away with-'

'You fat lying oaf,' squeaked Endine furiously, pounding his fist on the table.

'I said enough! the king barked, cutting both men off. 'We have more important things to do than dwell on past squabbles. I asked you to discover what magic has been used in this house; have you discovered anything?'

The pair eyed each other warily until, with a shrug, Cetarn stepped away from the table.

'If there was magic done here, it was not recent enough to detect. Considering the time period you mentioned, and the subtlety I would expect from the spell, that is hardly surprising.'

'But what we can tell you,' Endine joined in, 'is that there is a great deal of magic in this city; enough that my ears were fair ringing before we'd even got over the wall. Scree has no College of Magic, so either there just happens to be a lot of mages conducting research here, or something else is going on. There are a number of quite distinct flavours in the air.'

'Can you tell them apart, identify their nature?'

'Certainly, given time,' Endine said with a nod. 'Tonight we will prepare this place and make it secure. I shall give Tremal a list of our needs and the Brotherhood can secure them tomorrow for us.' Endine gave a nervy grin; he was a compulsive thief himself, and he was much attached to Harlo Tremal, a man who could steal almost anything. 'Then half a day of rituals will ward this house in the normal way, and another half'day will suffice to consult our daemon-guides and begin the process of unravelling the weaves in this city.'

'Good. You should know before you start that process that Doranei here spent the evening with Zhia Vukotic'

Endine blanched.

'I do not believe she poses a threat to us,' the king continued, 'but I hope I don't have to remind you that all vampires tend to be touchy, and Zhia possesses a Crystal Skull. Steer clear of her.'

'Yes, your Majesty,' Cetarn replied, nudging Endine, who, looking like he was about to be sick, nodded. Suddenly, Cetarn looked thought¬ful. 'That would explain some things. Are you likely to see her again?'

Doranei felt a prickle run down his neck as they all turned to him with expectant expressions. 'I- ah, well, perhaps I could.'

'Excellent. Try to find out how much she is using it.'

'How do you propose I do that?' Doranei asked, aghast.

'I don't care how.' Cetarn's plump lips widened in a smile. 'However you can – my point is that the sheer scale of magic being used in the city could be largely explained by her use of the Skull, though 1 would be disappointed by her inelegance.' He paused, lost in his thoughts, and frowned at the floor. 'But the situation may have demanded it, I suppose.'

'And you should know, your Majesty,' Endine continued as his col¬league trailed off into silence, 'that there is a necromancer in the city.'

Emin glanced at Doranei. 'Could that be Zhia?'

'Certainly,' replied Endine, as Doranei said 'no'. The King's Man hadn't intended to speak and felt a flush of embarrassment as soon as the word escaped his lips. Emin gave him an inscrutable look that lasted longer than Doranei would have liked, but eventually decided not to comment.

'I would expect an immortal vampire to be more than proficient in necromancy. That is logical. Whether she would bother with it is less certain – the discipline may be beneath a mage of her skill.' Endine's tone was one of professional admiration. It reminded Doranei of how the king had spoken of his first meeting with Zhia on the streets of Narkang. 'I would not expect her to lower her skills to that level often, and the activity we have felt is on a much larger scale, done by someone with great skill and strength, who does not fear detection.

'Of course,' Endine continued with a preening expression, 'we would not expect much of Scree's mages, or those left within the White Circle. I doubt they are as accomplished as Cetarn or I, so it might just be that the necromancer has a healthy contempt for the city's mages.'

'Let us hope so,' said Emin. 'Well, Doranei, it looks like we will have to find you something more suitable to wear to the theatre next time. Gentlemen, finding this necromancer is your first priority. I sus¬pect there will be few coincidences over the coming weeks, perhaps even this damned heat is part of it all. Azaer's games are complicated, usually obscure, but never lacking in purpose. That there is a powerful necromancer in the city will be part of that game; I want him or her found. The more of this puzzle we uncover, the better our chances of stopping whatever Azaer intends for Scree. I suspect this will be the shadow's boldest venture yet and I intend to spoil it.'