The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (152 page)

‘So let’s hope he doesn’t refuse just because I’m the one to offer it-‘

‘Let me handle that, my Lord,’ Lesarl said with a grin. ‘I’m sure I can help him to make the right choice - you have more important concerns to deal with right now.’

‘Are you prepared for this, Isak?’ Tila interrupted - friend now, rather than political advisor. ‘If you want a few minutes to yourself, the suzerains will wait.’

Isak smiled with more confidence than he felt. ‘I’m ready, better we get it over with. I’ve been practising the spell to block sound all week, and Lesarl’s going to be right beside me, so you don’t have to worry.’

The ducal throne had been brought from its normal position in the audience chamber and placed in the Great Hall, the only room big enough to accommodate every Farlan suzerain, duke, synod member and city councillor, as well as the heads of the College of Magic. Without retainers, bodyguards or advisors, they numbered close to a hundred, with twenty identifiable factions in the mix. There were several that Isak needed to speak to privately, so Dermeness Chirialt, one of the few mages Isak was sure he could trust, had taught him a simple charm to enable that.

‘And you are certain that you’ll be able to sense Cardinal Certinse’s emotions?’ Lesarl pressed. The cardinal remained the only member of that immediate family at liberty -he was a powerful man, and there was no direct evidence of treachery - but Isak had devised an alternative to having the man assassinated, albeit one they both found distasteful.

‘If I can’t, I’ll bluff him. People know about the Crystal Skulls and he’s not so stupid that he’ll disbelieve whatever claims I make.’

‘And the High Cardinal? That frail old man has put me quite to shame when it comes to terrorising his fellow citizens,’ Lesarl said cheerfully. ‘He’s targeted Suzerain Saroc particularly, and I have reports of deaths in several other suzerainties as well.’

‘He’ll get a warning with our offer. If the offer isn’t good enough for him, then your reports are obviously true and he’s lost all sense of reason.’

Lesarl’s network of informers had been busy, and once he’d put together their information, he had ascertained that every priest driven to sudden extremism and rage came from one of six cults: the six Gods given prominence in Scree, namely, Death, Nartis, Belarannar, Karkarn, Vellern and Vasle. It was the Gods most hurt by the actions of Azaer’s disciples whose backlash of rage echoed out through the Land, infecting those bound to their spirits - the priests, who were tied when ordained - with a similar fury.

Predictably, Lesarl’s reaction had been to applaud Azaer’s ingenuity, rather than cry horror at what had happened. Whether by accident or design, it had provoked a reaction from the Gods, which in turn would turn the common folk against them - and without the worship of the people, the Gods themselves would only grow weaker. ‘Inspired!’ Lesarl had muttered to himself. Isak, hearing him, had grimaced.

‘Having Jopel Bern whispering in the High Cardinal’s ear isn’t helping,’ Tila interrupted before he could take his Chief Steward to task.

Isak gave a curt nod. Bern, the High Priest of Death, had been as badly affected as the frail old man wearing the High Cardinal’s robes. Unfortunately, at least as far as Isak was concerned, the elderly cleric showed few signs of dying, at least by natural means. Echer was clearly burning himself out with magic; he’d most likely be dead in weeks, but Bern was being more careful.

‘We might have to put up with him for the time being.’ Isak took a deep breath and signalled the guards at the end of the corridor. ‘It’s time; I don’t want them to wait any longer.’

The soldiers pulled open the doors as he reached them. As Isak entered the Great Hall, Lesarl on his heel, he was met by a gust of warm, smoky air and a buzz of voices that lessened as soon as he stepped inside. The place looked completely different: the walls were now adorned with banners of all colours, the crests of every Farlan suzerain, all dominated by a central flag three times the size of any other - Isak’s crowned dragon. It was displayed behind the heavy ducal throne in the middle of the room, facing the enormous fire on the other side.

The throne was an oversized seat carved from a single enormous tree-trunk. The dark wood was highly polished, and the sides were thick enough to stop an axe. The raised back was taller than a standing man. Though there were symbols of the Gods and the Farlan set into the throne in silver, gold and jet, the overriding impression was of strength and size rather than splendour.

Isak took a moment to inspect the crowd as the assembled men turned to face him. In a ripple flowing towards the back of the room, the nobles sank to one knee, their sword-hilts raised up in front of their faces. The assorted priests bowed. It was a riot of colour: the Farlan loved ceremony and ritual, and the noblemen of all ages took great pleasure in sporting the very best of their finery on occasions like this. On his left were the assorted clerics of the Farlan, with the Synod placed closest to the vacant ducal throne. Opposite them, the Dukes of Merlat and Perlir took prime position.

Beside the Duke of Perlir there was a conspicuously empty seat, and Isak could see a few people squinting around, almost as if the deceased Duke Certinse was about to make a dramatic entrance. Count Vesna, dressed in full formal regalia, stood beside the throne itself. He had not moved an inch. The silver gorget bearing Isak’s crest that Vesna wore over his armour indicated that he was one of Isak’s personal guard, ceremonially, at least, and that excused him bowing.

‘Duke Tirah,’ called High Cardinal Echer in a thin, wasted voice. He scuttled over from the centre of the room and bowed a second time. Isak remembered the first time they had met, when he had presented himself humbly before the Synod. Then, Echer had been a feeble old man who had deferred to another cardinal; now, Isak could feel a thread of magic running through the man’s body, easing the pains of age and lending a ghastly animation to his lined face. How long he could last like that was anyone’s guess, but until Lesarl came up with something to aid nature’s course, the frail old man had been transformed into a spitting, remorseless fanatic.

‘The leaders of the Farlan greet you and honour you,’ Echer continued, ‘Chosen of Nartis, blessed above mortals.’

Isak could see a bloody welt on his cheek, contrasting with the rest of his skin, which was so pale it was almost translucent. The toll was already showing and Isak felt a wave of revulsion at the sight. It made him think of necromancy… He forced himself to put such thoughts to one side and concentrate on the moment. He gave a shallow bow.

Echer advanced and grabbed the front of Isak’s tunic with one skeletal hand. ‘Do you serve no master but your patron and Death himself?’ he asked, his wavering voice at odds with the fierce light burning in his eyes.

‘I serve Nartis and Death alone,’ Isak replied.

As soon as he had spoken, Echer tugged and they both took a step towards the throne. Lesarl had explained the tradition: the new lord was taking his place upon his throne reluctantly, each step reminding him of the heavy responsibilities of office. Isak couldn’t imagine Lord Bahl going through this same process - his predecessor had become Lord of the Farlan after killing Lord Atro in a close-fought running battle that had destroyed entire streets in Tirah - and the victorious Bahl had then had to bury the love of his life, the white-eye Ineh. Isak was pretty sure any priest trying to manhandle him, ceremonially or not, would have died in a heartbeat.

Echer’s next question brought Isak back to the present. ‘Do you declare your hatred for all daemons of Ghenna?’

‘I do.’

Another step. Isak felt the hum of magic through Echer, and his fingertips itched to embrace his own power. In the distant part of his mind where he had banished Aryn Bwr’s spirit, he heard the dead Elven king scream and howl for murder to be done.

‘Do you swear to lead the warriors of your tribe; to protect your people with strength and blood?’

A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered Bahl’s words when he’d given Isak the blue hood of Nartis to wear: ‘Your blood, your pain, shed for people and Gods who neither know of it nor care.’

‘I do.’

‘Do you swear to show reverence to all Gods and follow their teachings as an example to your people?’

Make your fucking mind up, renounce or revere? ‘I do.’ I know you’ll be reminding me of that before the week is out. I wonder how many ridiculous laws he’ll be asking me to enact?

‘Do you swear to show mercy to the faithful?’

‘I do.’ Except you, you twisted old bastard.

‘Do you swear to punish heretics and enemies of the tribe with the fury of the storm?’

‘I do.’

That last question took Isak up to the ducal throne. Count Vesna saluted him stiffly and held out a velvet cushion on which sat a circlet of silver and gold.

High Cardinal Echer peered up at Isak for a moment, sly glee on his crumpled face. Isak sat and Echer plucked the circlet from the cushion and held it up for everyone in the room to see.

‘Isak Stormcaller,’ he proclaimed, ‘Chosen of Nartis, Duke of Tirah: the Synod of the Farlan acknowledges your claim to the title Lord of the Farlan as valid. The line of the Farlan kings has ended and we accept no majesty other than that of the Gods, yet this circlet signifies you are Lord of all Farlan. I call on all Farlan, noble and low-born, to kneel before you and acknowledge your rule over them.’

Every man in the room went on one knee and echoed, ‘Lord of all Farlan,’ even Count Vesna - although he kept his eyes raised and his sword-hand ready.

A moment later, as arranged, the Dukes of Merlat and Perlir stepped out of the crowd and moved to either side of the High Cardinal. They both bowed, then the Duke of Merlat, as the elder of the two, stepped forward and knelt in front of Isak with the hilt of his sword held towards his lord. Isak touched a finger to the pommel and he withdrew as the Duke of Perlir stepped forward to repeat the formal greeting.

Finally Isak settled back on the throne and looked around the room in what he hoped was a suitably dignified manner before gesturing that everyone should get off their knees. He inclined his head to the dukes and they sat, followed shortly thereafter by the entire room.

‘Duke Lokan, Duke Sempes, I thank you for the honour you do me,’ Isak said smoothly. I beg a boon from you both.’

The unexpected words made the High Cardinal’s nose twitch with irritation, but he had enough sense left to know he could not interrupt.

‘My Lord,’ Lokan replied smoothly, ‘ask it, and if it is in our powers, we shall grant it.’

Isak inclined his head again. ‘My thanks to you both. As you are aware, there is a vacant seat here, for Lomin has no duke and there is argument over who should fill the post. I intend to appoint the son of the last Duke of Lomin as heir, to dispel this confusion. I call upon all those present to witness this - for the good of the tribe I appoint Major Belir Ankremer to the title of duke. My Lords, do you concur?’

‘My Lord, I do,’ Lokan said, the hint of a smile on his face as muted gasps of surprise filled the air.

‘My Lord,’ added Sempes, bowing low, ‘I also concur.’ His expression was rather grimmer, but he spoke without hesitation, and that was crucial. Neither man could have refused so public a choice, but every second they had waited would have been noted by the watching crowd.

‘I thank you. Lesarl, summon Belir, Duke of Lomin.’

All pretence at a respectful silence collapsed as the door opened a second time and in strode the powerfully built new duke, his black curls neatly trimmed and his uniform replaced by a crimson tunic emblazoned with the twin-towered keep of the Lomin family. As the duke approached, his face tight with nerves, Isak could see that while the clasps of his cloak bore the family crest in its entirety, the larger symbol on his chest had only one of those towers remaining, and a partially occluded moon hung above it.

Isak quickly spoke the words of the incantation he’d been practising, and let a sliver of magic trickle from his fingers, sensing how the arcane words shaped the energy and gave it a sudden purpose. By the time the new Duke of Lomin had knelt at Isak’s feet, the chatter of voices whispering around the room had dulled and whatever snatches of sound that crept through were garbled beyond recognition. He saw the heads of several priests and mages jerk up and stare at him, but he ignored them, even as Lesarl carefully noted who had reacted.

The Duke of Lomin also sensed the change in sounds around him and looked around as he held his hilt towards Isak.

‘A spell,’ Isak explained. ‘I expect several of your peers to have things to say that’ll require privacy.’

‘So no one else can hear us, my Lord?’ he asked.

‘They can hear a few garbled sounds, not individual words.’

‘May I ask a question then?’

Isak smiled. ‘You want to know why I chose you?’

‘I actually wanted to know what would be expected of me, my Lord, having had this honour bestowed.’ Berlir spoke through pursed lips. He clearly disliked the idea of being anyone’s pawn.

‘I expect you to perform your duties well. I need a duke in Lomin, not a lapdog.’ Isak leaned forward and looked Berlir in the eye. ‘You were chosen because Lesarl told me you’re a fine soldier, an intelligent leader and a strong man. The coming years will be hard and cruel, and I will expect as much from you as I will every other Farlan nobleman - more perhaps, because I have chosen a warrior, something that cannot be said of your fellow dukes, Sempes and Lokan.’

‘I - ‘ Berlir lowered his eyes. ‘Forgive me if this is blunt, my Lord, but I find it hard to accept an honour that is so lightly given.’

Isak grinned. ‘Good; if you weren’t a suspicious bastard you’d be no use. Now rise and take your seat; you should enjoy these few moments of peace, for there is much to do in Lomin. There is one thing to remember, and it is crucial: it is only united that we’ll survive what’s coming.’

The duke stood and took a half-step back before a strange look crossed his face. ‘I don’t pretend to understand your decision, but I’m a soldier, and as long as you ask me to serve the tribe, I will obey,’ he said, and bowed once more.