The Twilight herald

CHAPTER 21

Fordan Lesarl, Chief Steward of the Farlan, had spent his entire life in the service of his lord. He had been educated from birth to take his, father's place, taught how to use men like disposable tools. His foresight had led to the creation of a network within each city-state that was unrivalled throughout the Land. It was run by Whisper, one of Lesarl's coterie of unofficial ministers, and based on a web of local agents well-used to dark-eyed men and women looming out of the shadows with a list of requirements.

The Farlan agent in Scree was a corpulent merchant, Shuel Kenn, who had done well to hide his surprise when Lord Isak himself had appeared and demanded a base for his operations. Despite the glitter in his eyes that suggested Kenn was already calculating the profit he might make from playing the dutiful host, he had spared no expense to fulfil his employer's wishes. The house he provided for Isak was not his principal residence, but it was large and luxurious, and well situated in a quiet street a short distance from the homes of the truly wealthy, so they could enjoy the city guard's protection whilst maintaining their privacy. A walled courtyard surrounded three sides of the house, and a large old chestnut tree in the middle obscured the view should anyone consider watching the rear, while the street-door was fortified against anything less than a full-on battering ram.

Tila and Vesna sat on a covered balcony at the rear of the house, facing the morning sun and drinking warm tea flavoured with lime and honey. After the horror of the two previous evenings, Scree was peculiarly silent.

'All night, whenever I closed my eyes, I saw that stage covered In blood,' Tila whispered, clutching her cup. The shadows around hit eyes betrayed her disturbed sleep, and Vesna was worried that what lew hours' rest she had managed had led her even more troubled.

'1 know,' he told her. 'I've seen prisoners executed in public before, and never found anything in it to entertain me. To execute prisoners on stage, as part of a play – that's abominable, but to murder a priest, before the whole city? It beggars belief. I haven't the words.' Vesna pinched the bridge of his nose against the tired ache building behind his eyes. He was a seasoned campaigner, and his own uneasy rest had taken him by surprise. 'There was a time when death didn't move me,' he said, reflectively. 'I wonder what happened?'

'You grew up,' Tila said, squeezing his hand affectionately. 'I've de¬cided that to survive as a soldier, you have to live like a child – to see everything through the eyes of an adult would be too much to bear.'

Vesna looked down at her fondly. 'Perhaps you're right. In Tor Milist, a sergeant told me I was thinking too much. Doing that'll get you killed, but all I could think about was you. What a pathetic place to die; furthering the cause of a man I'd happily kill. All those who died there… for the first time I felt guilty. I'd dragged them some¬where they had no need to be.' He paused, his voice dropping low. 'What a pathetic way it would have been to lose you.'

'Don't think like that,' Tila said. 'Duty took you there. I might not agree with Lord Isak, but he believes it was in the best interests of the tribe, and that decision is now his to make. We must obey our lord.'

Despite his despondency, Vesna smiled at Tila's sudden vehemence. He frequently forgot the twenty summers between them, until some tiny detail brought him up short, and when that happened, the years sat heavier on his shoulders, even as Tila's bright smile lifted him up.

'Aye, we'll follow his will, though he's little more than a lad and you're not much better! Gods, to be that young again.' He pointed at the chestnut tree that dominated the courtyard. 'That reminds me of when I was a lad; we had one at Narole Hall and I'd climb it every time I did something wrong.' Vesna laughed suddenly. 'It happened so often my father threatened to cut the damned thing down.'

And did he?'

'No, it was an empty threat – he did exactly the same when he was a boy.' He shook his head. 'I've started missing that house recently, though I've not lived there in years.'

'What happened?' Tila asked. 'It's your family home, isn't it?'

Vesna gave a weary shrug. 'I inherited my father's debts. He was a good father, but a poor manager of estates, and I ran up a few more myself after he died. Don't think I appreciated the place when I was young; parts of Anvee are beautiful, which is why a lot of old soldiers go there to find a peaceful retirement. Of course, they still need to eat, so they train boys like me, whose parents want them to last beyond their first battle. It's only now I realise those old veterans found some¬thing genuine there. When I was a lad, all I could think about was getting to the city and joining the army.'

'So you had to sell your home?'

Almost. The local magistrate was an old friend of my father's and he found a merchant who liked the idea of living in an ancestral home. The merchant was a good man: he gave me a fair price, and agreed that if ever I could repay that money, with remarkably modest interest, I'd get my house back.'

'But you haven't?'

Her question provoked a flush of embarrassment. 'Somehow 1 never managed to save the money – first of all I had a lot of debts to pay off, but since I had inherited an Elven blade from my father, and I was my swordmaster's finest student, I decided paying debts wouldn't get my home back, so I commissioned my armour from the College of Magic and decided to win honours on the battlefield instead. I knew not hing of trade, so where else was the money to come from?'

'And the money you've made on the field has gone to servicing the remaining debts?' Tila finished his sentence. This was a common story; those who held a debt could sell it or pass it on. It was a cruel system, for one missed payment, maybe because of illness, or an emergency, was often enough to start the descent into bankruptcy. Once they were caught in this trap, few found a way to escape.

'Mostly,' Vesna admitted. 'When I was knighted I was given land, of course, but it's not worth enough to pay more than a third oi thi debt. Perhaps I should give trade a go, now I feel too old lor battle.'

'Nonsense,' Tila said. 'There's no one in the tribe Lord Isak trusts more than you; the sensible money's on him appointing you as General Elierl's replacement in Lomin. There's no duke there, so the eastern border needs an experienced commander more than ever.'

'Hut what if that's not what I want?' Vesna asked sadly. 'What if my nerve's gone, and all I've left is an unsavoury reputation, and not even a child to pass my weapons on to?'

'But that's not true,' Tila insisted fiercely. 'Your nerve isn't gone or you wouldn't have made it here; you'd have died outside lor Milist, Doubting yourself is only human, but 1 know you'd not even pause to think before stepping between danger and your lord – and while we're on the subject, do you think Lord Isak has never doubted himself? He's only a little older than I am and he grew up on a wagon-train, yet we now expect him to make decisions that affect nations! Suzerains, dukes and high priests defer to him on theology and prophecy; Isak must be horrified at the life he's found himself living.' Her voice softened. 'He'll need you to understand a sane man's doubts, otherwise you'll not be there when he no longer knows which way to turn.'

They heard footsteps ascending the stairs from the unused study below and turned to see Major Jachen's face bobbing up into view. Isak's Commander of Guards always looked sheepish when he was forced to disturb them. Clearly he'd come straight from his bed and hadn't passed a mirror on the way, for his hair was plastered down over his scalp on one side and sticking up on the other. He wore a loose linen shirt and, bizarrely, despite the hot weather, a Chetse warrior's kilt.

It was the first time Vesna had ever seen a Farlan in Chetse dress. It had clearly been made for Jachen, for he was taller than most Chetse and the kilt still reached his scarred knees – yet another sign of how far Jachen had gone to evade his past?

Vesna smiled inwardly and breathed in the faint aroma of Tila's skin. He had been forgiven his own reputation once he joined Isak's inner circle; perhaps redemption was also within Jachen's reach.

'Count Vesna, Lady Tila; Lord Isak requests your presence.' Jachen sounded awkward, as though the formality of his position still did not come easily to him. 'We have a visitor,' he added, 'a woman, appar¬ently one of the Chief Steward's agents.'

Vesna hauled himself to his feet and offered a hand to Tila.

'Major, have you managed much sleep recently?' he asked suddenly. Jachen's reddened eyes and sickly complexion made him look like he'd spent the last two days drinking. 'For a man who's just woken up, you don't look very well rested.'

'I find it hard to sleep in this heat, and my head's been aching ever since we arrived here,' he admitted.

'Surely you're used to the heat?' Vesna pointed at the kilt; the Chetse lived far to the south and much of their territory was little more than desert. Jachen must have served there to get into the habit of wearing a warrior's kilt.

'This heat's not natural,' Jachen said, 'but you're right, it shouldn't be enough to stop me sleeping. Feels like there's something in the air, like a song just out of hearing. I'll be glad to see the back of this city.'

'How about your dreams?'

A hunted look flashed over Jachen's face. 'What about them?'

'You don't look like you've been having normal dreams recently.'

The commander lowered his eyes and said quietly, 'Recently? Not lor years now.' He coughed and turned to leave. 'Lord Isak is waiting downstairs.'

'We're coming, but… Commander?' Jachen stopped and Vesna caught up with him and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. 'Get properly dressed first. You're not a mercenary any longer.'

There was a sparkle of defiance in Jachen's eye, quickly checked. He nodded, and excused himself.

The open reception room that served as the heart of the house was ringed by enough pillars for a temple to Nartis. There was a mezzanine balcony, and above, it was open to the sky. Lord Isak circled a young woman, who was sitting comfortably on a cushion, watching her lord. Gone were the trappings of state and title; instead, Lord Isak, clad in a loose sleeveless shirt and cropped breeches, looked more like the suspicious, bare-footed youth he had been a year ago. Only the sheathed sword that he kept switching from one hand to the other and the whitened skin of his left arm that bore the kiss of a hundred searing lightning bolts marked him as someone different.

Two of Isak's guards stood at the main door, armed with the shofl handled glaives favoured by the Ghosts of Tirah. On the balcony Sir Kelet prowled, his beautiful silver-inlaid bow at the ready. Perched on the edge of the balcony, her bare toes hanging over the empty space below, was Shinir, Lesarl's sour-faced agent. She was balancing her sickle-like khopesh, a brutal single-edged weapon, on her finger, and her long chain-link flail was draped around her shoulders. She never bothered hiding her dislike of Vesna, but he ignored her as he passed. Shinir could be a useful asset, but she was unstable, too close to being a Raylin for his liking. He knew that if he did get into an argument with her, he'd have to be ready to end it.

In contrast to Lord Isak, who fidgeted like a boy before his In.1 battle, the young woman sitting cross-legged in the centre ol the room was still and calm. Her hair was tinted red, like one ol the While

Circle, but she was undoubtedly a pure-blood Farlan.

Vesna felt a jolt as he realised he'd met her before… it took him a moment to place that beautiful face, then he had it: she'd been at a meeting in Lord Bahl's tent, after the battle of the Chir Plains. She'd been standing silently at the side and he had dismissed her as an assassin. It looked like she was rather more than that.

'Vesna, Tila, this is Legana,' Lord Isak announced. 'She is here to infiltrate the White Circle. Lesarl's orders.' He gave a sour laugh. 'And although we've discovered their plans the hard way, she's unearthed even darker secrets.'

'My Lord?' Vesna stopped. There was obviously more to Isak's agi¬tated state than just the sweltering nights and the magic unleashed throughout the city the previous night.

'The death of Lord Bahl, or so she claims.' Isak finally settled, lean¬ing back against the pillar in front of Legana.

'My Lord, I thought you would want to hear that part of my report first,' Legana said.

Vesna thought he detected a slight northern drawl. 'First the con¬text,' he said. 'I want to know how you have heard such things; how such secrets were brought into the open.'

Legana bobbed her head, a wisp of rusty hair falling across her face. 'Mistress Siala assigned me as an aide to Mistress Ostia – the name assumed here by the vampire Zhia Vukotic, as you know; Siala remains ignorant of her true identity. The night before last, Mistress Ostia – Zhia – captured the necromancer's associates during the assault on his house. One was his assistant, who told us that his master was Menin by birth, and had been trained in his arts by Lord Salen himself. He was sent west to stir up trouble in these parts, and became acquainted with Cordein Malich, later becoming his apprentice.'

'Malich?' Vesna gasped. 'The Menin have been planning their invasion for that long?'

'But how did this necromancer's apprentice bring about Lord Bahl's death?' Isak interjected.

'Did Lord Bahl ever mention his dreams?'

'Not that I remember. Why is that important?'

'Because they used his dreams, his memories of his lost love, against him. Lord Styrax has been planning this invasion for years – how else could anyone have brought an army across the Waste intact? The one thing he had not anticipated is you, Lord Isak.'

'Of course not,' Vesna said, pacing the room himself, 'How could he, when he was working so many years ahead? We knew some form of necromantic power was involved when Lord Charr usurped Lord Chalat. The Chetse were defeated because of this. Lord Styrax has used our own weakness against us: the Farlan had only one Chosen, and we have a history of insurrection, while the Chetse are prone to over obedience. Thotel fell because no one challenged Lord Charr's orders, even though any seasoned soldier could have seen the danger.'

'And Mistress Zhia believes Lord Styrax may have influenced the actions of the White Circle as well,' Legana added.

Vesna stopped his pacing and swung around to examine Legana. 'Thus directing their efforts towards eliminating the other great leader of the West?' he asked.

'So she believes.'

'I can think of no one more able to unravel deviousness, and at this point there is little I could not believe of Lord Styrax. I suspect he would even put our own dear Chief Steward to shame.'

'Impressed, Vesna?' Lord Isak asked.

'Enough to respect him as an enemy,' the count replied. I [e put bis hand on the hilt of his sword as he continued, 'Rather more im-portantly, it means we cannot forget the threat to Lord Isak. We will have to watch for assassins and instruct Mariq-'

'No.' Lord Isak's soft interruption stopped the count, A prickle went down Vesna's spine as he saw a hunted look in his master's eye. As he looked around the room, he saw they too had felt the change,. a sudden cloud crossing the sun.

'My Lord?'

'He will not send assassins.'

'How can you tell?'

'I know, leave it at that.'

Vesna checked his urge to question further. Isak had told them about his dreams, the Yeetatchen girl Xeliath, the soul of Aryn Bwr kept prisoner in his head, even what the dead Ell had claimed about Kastan Styrax being born the Saviour, until he chose his own route Isak had mentioned a connection between the two ol them, but not wanted to go into detail – and only a handful ol people had been told that much. Obviously he would explain no further in the prsence of Jachen or Legana, no matter how loyal they professed thctTW l\ I

Vesna did his duty and changed the subject back, '1 e|;ana, what did

this necromancer do to Lord Bahl's dreams?'

'He used them to torment Lord Bahl with visions of his lost love,

driving him to a certain place on the White Isle, where Lord Styrax

could ambush him.'

'Are we to assume that Zhia is aware of your true allegiance?' Tila asked suddenly, stepping forward from the foot of the stair where she had been observing the conversation.

Legana nodded.

'So she is aware that you are reporting to Lord Isak?'

Legana smiled. 'It is her hope that Lord Isak will kill the necroman¬cer, because he has made some sort of bargain with Mistress Siala and currently resides under her protection.'

'So this could be nothing more than some artifice of Zhia's, to have us do her bidding?'

'I don't believe so,' Legana said plainly, turning to look at the younger woman. 'Mistress Zhia had already come to the conclusion that Mistress Siala was more an obstacle than a help, even before we learned of Lord Isak's presence in the city.'

Vesna watched the two of them. It was rare to see a woman more arrestingly beautiful than Tila. Legana managed to command the room almost as much as Isak, who was a white-eye, and stood a foot and a half taller. To Vesna's experienced eye, Legana was not happy with the attention her beauty brought. White-eyes, he knew, were born to demand attention as entirely natural, and Isak had quickly shaken off the habits of his isolated upbringing, but Legana had obviously never grown too comfortable with the effect she had on a roomful of men.

'You keep saying "Mistress",' Tila observed, as though sharing Vesna's thought and taking it a step further. 'That's the form of address demanded by those of the White Circle, Have you have grown attached to the Sisterhood?'

Legana looked startled at the suggestion. 'It has become a habit out of necessity; it would be too easy to make a mistake if I wasn't careful to always keep to the forms – and the future of the Circle is hardly one I would want to tie myself to. The White Circle suffered grievous losses in Narkang. They have no expansionist plans at present. Shoring up their defences before they are slaughtered by Narkang and the Farlan is their only goal, and it's Zhia who is effectively in charge of four of Scree's five armies. They are finished as a power in the Land.'

Tila didn't respond, hut her expression was cool and her eyes fixed on Legana. When the agent turned away, Tila gave Isak a small nod and stepped back out of the conversation again.

'So we have an associate of Malich's in the city, one who was also involved in the death of Lord Bahl and remains an agent of the Menin.' Isak shrugged. 'It's a simple decision then; we kill him first.'

'My Lord, he is under Siala's protection, and a necromancer is con¬stantly on guard; the attack on his house will have made him doubly watchful'

Isak's eyes flashed. 'I don't care. This necromancer is an enemy of the Farlan and a threat to us all.' He pointed a finger towards Tila. 'Those of you who lack any defence against magic will be the ones hurt in the crossfire when he comes after me.'

A furious hammering on the front door broke off the discussion. They could hear angry voices in the street outside, growing louder, then the person beating at the barred door yelled out above the racket, 'For Vellern's sake, let me in; they're going to kill me!'

'It's Mayel,' Isak said, surprised, 'the kid we brought back here the other night. Let him in.'

The guardsmen raised their glaives and one used the butt of his weapon to knock the bolt open and raise the latch. The former novice barrelled through, barging the doors wide open as he rushed in, and Isak caught sight of the figures following him: half a dozen townslolk, armed with clubs and sticks and what looked like meat cleavers. Clearly the madness that had gripped the population was worsening,

One guardsman drove his door shut, but the other had moved outside to see what was happening. Seeing the onrushing mob, In-stepped away and raised his weapon; Vesna shouted for Tila to get up the stairs and pulled out his longsword. Isak had already drawn his, and when the first of the invaders hurtled in, the white-eye spun around as gracefully as a dancer and beheaded him neatly. Blood fountained from the attacker's neck as the body crashed to the marble floor.

As others followed, still shouting and screeching incoherently, they found themselves set upon on from all sides. The guardsmen slammed the door and bolted it against further incursions. By the time they |oined the fight, it was almost all over: Lord Kelet's arrows had taken two down, and a third was gaping down at Legana's knife buried in his chest. Count Vesna had battered aside a club and impaled the owner, while Shinir, leaping down from the balcony and swinging around a pillar into the fray, had used her flail and khopesh to good account, trapping a fat man who looked like a butcher and hacking through his collarbone. She left the khopesh there as she tossed her chain flail around one of the remaining two people and yanked hard; the chain caught the astonished invader under the chin and slammed her against the pillar with a sickening snap.

The last man standing, his bloodstained cleaver raised uncertainly, took a step back. He never even saw the guardsmen behind him, swinging their glaives in unison. The room fell silent as they listened for more voices outside. Vesna looked up to Kelet, who had another arrow nocked and ready.

He made his way around the balcony to a window and peered up and down the street outside for a few seconds. Finally the knight from Torl called, 'Looks clear, my Lord.'

'Shinir, get out to the back and check there,' Jachen said, his voice husky. He had drawn his sword, but he'd not had to fight – Lord Isak had made it clear that he had some very effective killers in his per¬sonal guard now, and that was not his job. He was to watch for what was going on beyond and around any fight, and to guard Tila from any threat.

'Karkarn's black teeth,' breathed Mayel, eyes widening as he watched Shinir scamper up a pillar and vault onto the balcony with consummate ease. 'You're like no mercenaries I've ever met.'

'You were a novice in a monastery; exactly how many mercenaries have you met in your life?' Jachen snapped, advancing on the youth.

'Being a novice doesn't make me brainless,' the boy said. He pointed at Shinir. 'No normal woman does that. Maybe a Harlequin could manage it, but no damned soldier.'

'Congratulations, you've just seen a damned soldier do it,' he said sarcastically.

'I say you're not normal mercenaries. No lord's tart- ah, begging your pardon, Miss,' he added hurriedly as he caught Vesna's expression, 'but no lord's mistress is so valuable she's protected by a white-eye his size-' he jabbed a grubby finger in Isak's direction, 'and a woman touched by magic, not both. Not when the city's terrified the entire Farlan Army's going to appear at the walls at any moment.'

'Why are you here?' Lord Isak interjected. 'I thought you were going to see if your cousin survived the other night?' After the chaos of the night at the necromancer's house, Isak had beaten a hasty retreat rather than get entangled in a fight witb the city guard. He'd seen some of the creatures crashing through the fence and decided on the spur of the minute that it would be too cruel to leave the boy to fend for himself, so he'd dragged Mayel along with him. Mayel had spent half of the next day in shock, huddled in a corner of the room, before he regained some semblance of his normal insouciance. He'd shaken himself all over, like a dog, and announcing he had to find his cousin, he grabbed some food and disappeared before anyone could talk him out of leaving the safety of the house.

'I did, but I hadn't realised the state the city's in. I'd never have made it back here if I'd not known the streets as well as I do. As It was-' Mayel gestured towards the corpses in the middle of the room. 'They came after me because I was alone. No other reason.'

'And your cousin?'

'Dead.' His shoulders fell. 'Dead, with most of his men, when the Dark Place spat out its creatures at them.'

'And he's the only person you know in the city?' Vesna asked, recalling what Ilumene, the supposed King's Man, had said to Isak: a priest on the run. He was beginning to think it was no coincidence that Mayel had been a novice at a monastery. The city was spiralling Into chaos with breathtaking speed, and Vesna was increasingly fearful that it was not by chance. Doranei had already told them Ilumene was now an enemy of Narkang and Morghien had hinted at a shadowy hand behind much to do with Isak too. What if this is only the next Step? Vesna thought.

'Who else could there be?' Mayel replied hotly. 'I've been in a mon-astery for the last few years.'

'IVrhaps someone from that monastery, then?' Vesna pressed. He hadn't sheathed his sword. Now he began to advance on the youth. There was something not right about this boy.

Mayel took a pace back.

'Perhaps someone who needed to hide in the city, someone who needed a native to help them?'

'I don't know what you mean,' Mayel blustered hut his eyes had already betrayed him.

'Balls you don't; you know exactly what I'm on about,' Vesna said angrily. Very deliberately, he tore a strip of clothing from one oi the dead men and used it to wipe his blade clean before sheathing it, Then, before Mayel realised what was happening, he'd stepped for-ward and grabbed the boy by the throat.

'You've been lying to us,' he said, 'so how about you spill what you know or I'll beat seven shades of shit out of you?'

Mayel struggled against Vesna's grip. 'I've not-'

He stopped abruptly as the count punched a fist into his gut, driv¬ing the wind from him.

'Not what?' he roared, shaking the youth like a terrier holding a rat. 'You're not going to tell me the truth?'

'I don't-!'

Mayel's gasping protests were cut off as Vesna slammed him into the wall. Terrified, he cowered, hands held out like a pleading supplicant.

Everyone else in the room kept silent and watched. They had all seen far worse; so far Vesna had been remarkably restrained. Mayel was obviously no trained liar; it wouldn't take much longer to get the truth they so desperately needed to hear.

'Trust me, boy; I can keep this up all day,' Vesna threatened, his voice silky. 'You'll want to give it up long before I do.' He snarled, and punched Mayel sharply.

The boy howled and flopped to the floor, and Vesna picked him up again and pinned him against the wall.

'Ready to tell me yet?'

'All right!' he gasped. 'Please, stop it, and I'll tell you.'

Vesna held him there for a few heartbeats, then let Mayel sink to his knees. He left the boy there as Isak beckoned and led him to a corner of the room where they could speak without being overheard.

Taking that as his cue, Jachen began removing the bodies as noisily as he could.

'Feeling better?' Isak asked softly. 'You've been boiling inside for days, my friend, something I recognise only too well. Now you've hurt someone, does that help?'

Vesna sighed. 'The boy's no good at lying. It looked worse than it really was; I pulled most of my blows. He's not really hurt much. I apologise if I went too far.'

'You were serving me as you should,' Isak said, laying a hand on the count's shoulder. 'It's just novel that I'm the composed one. Is there anything I should know? Not as your lord, but as your friend. What really happened in Tor Milist? Something there shook you up.'

'It's-' Vesna shook his head. 'Now is not the time, hut 1 would like to speak of it. Let us deal with the boy first.'

Isak led the way back to Mayel, who was sitting with his back to the way, grimacing.

He lifted the youth to his feet and inspected the damage. 'You'll have a fine bruise or two, but I don't think he's done much more than rattle your teeth. I'll be glad if I get no more than that before I get out of this city.'

Mayel touched a finger to his rapidly swelling cheek. The man who'd hit him was a strong man, and a fair bit taller. 'You'll be telling me he pulled his punches next,' he muttered, glaring at Vesna around Isak's massive body.

'And that shows it's just your pride that's hurt. A wise man once told me that was easily given up to save your life.'

'I'm sure the old sod would feel smug if he saw this then,' Mayel spat.

'I'm sure he would, but you don't get to call him an old sod,' Isak replied, and slapped him sharply on his bruised cheek.

The youth yelped and recoiled.

'Enough of the games. I'm losing patience,' Isak growled, loom-ing over the youth and glowering until he thought Mayel looked frightened enough to tell the truth. 'You had something to tell me.'

Mayel started shaking. Rubbing his cheek, he looked up at the huge white-eye towering over him. He had suddenly realised he was in over his head, and these men were not going to take it easy on him because he was just a scrawny ex-novice. 'Why do you even care about the monastery?' he whispered.

Call it professional interest,' Isak said, watching expressions dance across Mayel's face. Vesna was right; the boy was no accomplished liar. 'A priest was murdered last night, on stage, in front of a cheering crowd, From what I hear that's not the only priest who's been treated with something less than respect by the good citizens of Scree, and I'm curious as to why.'

1 don't know much about that,' Mayel said quickly. 'I came to Scree with the abbot of my monastery. We were hiding from a rogue monk; the prior of our order.'

'Who's called?'

Prior Corci, but everyone called him Jackdaw. We brought some holy relics with us and Jackdaw wants them.' Mayel shuddered visibly as he said quietly, He killed someone trying to get at them, so the abbot decided to flee.' By now all the bluster had disappeared and he was just a frightened boy.

Isak stepped back a pace to give him a bit of space. 'Do you know what the relics are?' he asked, his voice less angry now.

Mayel shook his head. 'No, the abbot was careful never to let me see them.'

'But you have your suspicions?' Isak pressed.

'I can't be sure, but both Abbot Doren and Jackdaw are mages. When I went looking for news of my cousin, I also tried to visit the abbot, but I was driven off as soon as I entered the grounds. I got a splitting headache – no, more than that, it was a pain in my head, but not like anything I've ever felt before. It was as if I could feel his presence all around me, but suddenly he was terrifying, not the sickly old man I know. It felt-' He paused. 'It felt like he'd gone mad, and I could feel his fear.' Mayel scowled at the floor and rubbed his cheek. 'I know that sounds ridiculous but I could taste it on the air before I even reached the house. He was a mage, I suppose.'

'Driven mad by fear?' Isak looked fascinated and worried at the same time, a look that was echoed around the room.

Mayel shrugged. 'The house was quite close to your necromancer's; perhaps the relic attracted one of the daemons when they escaped the grounds. The abbot was really paranoid, right from the moment we left the monastery, so a daemon attacking the house could have pushed him the rest of the way.'

'And what is your plan now?'

Mayel didn't answer at first. Nervously, he looked around at the others in the room and tried in vain to read their expressions.

Isak did the same. The only person showing any emotion was Tila, and she was doing a fair job of hiding her anxiety over Vesna's sudden show of fury. Only the set of her lips and poise betrayed her. He wasn't surprised at the other blank faces; it was second nature for spies and career soldiers to hide their feelings.

'I don't have a plan now,' Mayel said reluctantly. 'My cousin's dead, and I can't go back to the abbot. With the city the way it is, I don't know what I'm going to do. No one's going to be hiring while mobs are roaming the streets. Even my cousin's house has been ransacked – by his own men.' There was a trace of indignation in his voice now, and he raised his chin a little defiantly.

'Have you ever considered the life of a fighting man?' said Isak with a grin.

'Not really,' Mayel admitted as he weakly returned the smile. 'People trying to kill me has never appealed; even a monastery sounds better than that.'

'As soon as you go out of that door, people will try to kill you,' Isak said baldly. 'My way, you've at least got a sword in your hand and comrades to keep you alive.'

Relief and suspicion clashed on Mayel's face. 'You mean a sword like that one?' he said hopefully, pointing to Eolis.

'Hah, perhaps not quite like mine,' Isak said with a laugh, instinc-lively jerking the blade away from MayePs attention, 'but I'm sure we can find you something to suit your abilities. One of the men will show you how to avoid sticking yourself with it.'

'Why would you want me?'

'The same reason your abbot did; we're not locals here. We've good Hackers, but none of us are from Scree, so that probably makes you worth feeding.'

He turned to Jachen. 'Take him to whatever dark corner Tiniq and Leshi are lurking in. Our newest recruit is going to tell them exactly how to get to his abbot, so they can go and investigate.'

'Of course.' Jachen remembered not to salute, and beckoned for Mayel to follow him.

'My Lord,' Legana said, once Mayel was out of ear-shot, 'what are my orders?'

Isak cocked his head, trying to decide whether he should send her hack to Zhia Vukotic's side. And what is our next step? he wondered to himself. Is there anything more to do in this city beyond finding a safe way out? I think we've come too late for much else.

'Hoes the vampire know what is happening in Scree?' he said finally.

'She has her suspicions,' Legana answered. 'She believes the on‹ running the sunken theatre are casting some sort of spell thai is affect-ing the whole city. They're followers of Azaer, if King Emin's men are to he believed.'

'Looking at what's going on outside, there's not going to he a city left for much longer, so their plan must he nearing completion.'

Legana inclined her head in agreement.

Isak scratched his neck, 'No doubt the theatre will be exempt from the curfew tonight. Perhaps we'll find our answers there.' He beamed and raised his left hand. Curls of orange flame began to twirl around his white fingers. 'If not, let's burn the bastard down instead.'