The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (27 page)

Jelana Amanas gave a curt nod of the head and rose, patting her husband on the shoulder on her way past. She said not a word to the newcomer. When she had left, the man took her seat and leaned forward, fingers interlocked, as he studied Amanas with a predatory expression that reminded the Keymaster of the Chief Steward.

‘So, Amanas, how is life in the Heraldic Library?’

‘As it always is, Dancer. You have interrupted my dinner for a good
reason, I hope?’

The man called Dancer chuckled at the use of that name. He was one of Lesarl’s personal advisors, a member of the Chief Steward’s very personal coterie. Few knew that name for him; it was reserved for business done well away from the public eye.

‘You have a set of files here that my employer asked you to prepare a few years ago; you have not destroyed them?’

‘Files?’ Amanas asked. For a moment he had no idea what Dancer
was talking about, then he realised. The Malich affair? Yes, I still have them, though I resent the Chief Steward using me as his personal blackmailer. Why do you need them? Surely we’re no longer in danger of civil war now that Malich is dead.’

‘I have just received a message from the army in Lomin. Duke
Lomin is dead.’

‘Murdered?’ Amanas asked, aghast.

‘By elves, not by Farlan hand. The problem is his son, Scion Lomin.
He has taken the name of Duke Certinse.’ Dancer’s eyes narrowed. The Certinse family now directly controls a suzerainty, a dukedom, the Knights of the Temples and it may soon control the Cardinal
branch of the cult of Nartis.’

Amanas sighed and heaved himself to his feet. From the sideboard
he picked up an oil lamp and used it to gesture towards the door. ‘Well
then, you’d better come with me. We have a long night ahead of us.’

Isak’s horse almost sagged with fatigue. The snowflakes turning to water as they landed on the cloth covering weighed down the poor beast even further as it laboured on through the dirty sludge that passed for the forest highway. The local suzerains employed road
men to maintain these routes, but several thousand horsemen coming
through in the depths of winter made it impossible to tell whether those duties had been neglected or not. Since they were in Amah, a
rich and prosperous suzerainty, it was likely there was someone sadly
shaking his head as the troops passed, wondering how he’d ever get
his road back into top condition.

‘Remind me why we need to do this,’ Isak muttered, eyes fixed
on a single snowflake that was precariously balanced on the rise of a
seam.

‘Because wintering in Lomin would be as inconvenient as it would
be fraught with complications.’ Vesna’s reply sounded mechanical: he
was quite as bored and cold as the Krann, and he had answered this question half a dozen times already. ‘Quite aside from the fact that
you’d probably end up fighting Duke Certinse, Lomin is eight hundred miles from Perlir. With life as it is, that’s too far. Duke Sempes
hasn’t caused trouble for quite a while and the Chief Steward is probably mad with suspicion by now.’

‘Have we reached Danva yet?’

‘Soon. The next village we come to should be flying red banners.’

‘Why red?’ Now Isak looked a little more interested. ‘Surely it should be white if they’re mourning their suzerain?’ He looked at his bondsman, who looked significantly more noble than his master
- Isak’s heavy fleeces were stained with mud after an ignominious spill
from his horse when the hunter had stumbled and fallen badly. At least they’d had a decent meal out of it - the break had been too bad
for the horse to be of any further use and the Farlan were a practical
people. Horses were the lifeblood of their nation, valued by all, but they were a tool. Isak had heard the Yeetatchen treated their horses
like family, but the Farlan were much more sensible.

‘No, my Lord, they fly the red when the suzerain dies in battle. I
thought everyone knew that.’ Vesna looked puzzled. ‘Where were you
born?’

‘On the road to the Circle City. My mother went into labour just
as they sighted Blackfang, I’m told. That’s where she’s buried, at the
foot of a willow by the road.’ There was a tinge of pain in Isak’s voice.
Like all white-eyes, he knew exactly why his mother died.

‘I’m sorry-‘

‘Long in the past,’ replied Isak, shaking himself free of the memory. ‘I might not remember her, but at least I’ve seen where she was buried
- that route was my life for ten years. Three trips every two years, and I had to sneak off to visit her grave and get a whipping when I
returned.’

‘Your father hates you that much?’ Vesna sounded like he couldn’t
believe a parent would act that way, but Isak had seen men worse than
his father. At least Horman had a reason to hate his son. Some men
did worse, for no cause other than that they had been born vicious.

‘Father never forgave the loss of my mother. He named me to mock
Kasi Farlan - maybe he hoped the Gods would take me young because
of that. Without Carel to keep me in check I’d probably have hung as a result of our combined tempers.’

‘I’ve heard you speak of Carel before; who is he?’ the count asked.

‘Carel - Sergeant Betyn Carelfolden,’ Isak said. ‘He taught me eve
rything I know, not just how to fight, but to rein in my temper, to think before reacting - it may not look like it, but I could have been
much worse!’ He laughed, then explained, ‘Carel was a Ghost, so he
was fair. He didn’t despise me just because I was a white-eye, and he
didn’t hate me for killing my mother like my father did.’ He smiled,
remembering. ‘He’s probably the reason my father and I didn’t end up
killing each other.’

‘Why don’t you send for him, this Carelfolden, if he’s your friend.
Vesna asked curiously.

Isak shrugged. He’d thought of doing just that from time to time, but somehow he’d never actually done anything about it - he wasn’t
sure why that was. Carel’s smile and gruff voice composed almost the
entirety of Isak’s good childhood memories. He was the one who had

urged Isak to be more than just a white-eye, who’d borne in silence
the brunt of a young man’s frustration as it boiled over. Carel was almost the only person Isak gave a damn about, and the only person he wanted to be proud of him. Still something held him back.

‘My Lord? Would it not be good to have another man you could trust
? One whose opinion is worthwhile? If he was a Ghost, then he’ll
be trustworthy and capable, and will already know that the life of the
nobility is often less than noble. You’ll need men of your own, men
who are loyal to you before anyone else.’

‘Are you saying I can’t trust whoever Bahl does?’

Vesna shook his head. ‘Not at all. But the Chief Steward is the servant of the Lord of the Farlan, no matter who that is. Suzerains like Tori or Tehran, or Swordmaster Kerin, they’re devoted to Lord
Bahl himself: they’re friends as well as vassals. I’m not saying they’re
a danger to you, not at all, but you have to recognise that you now wield great political power in your own right. But you’re only one man, and a young one at that. I’m loyal to Lord Bahl, and Nartis of
course, but my bond is specifically to you, Suzerain Anvee. My point
is: Lord Bahl has his own people to worry about his interests, and
friends to act as confidants.’

Isak held up a hand to stop the count, already convinced. He didn’t
want to think too hard about the political situation right now: all the
secret agendas and wheelings and dealings were still a mystery; he was
having a hard enough time remembering who could be trusted and
how much now without adding a whole new layer of intrigue. ‘You’re
right, you’re absolutely right. I’ll send for Carel - don’t ever call him
Carelfolden; he saves that for formal occasions only. Can you send a messenger for me? Probably best to leave it at the Hood and Cape in the Golden Tower district.’ He didn’t add ‘before I change my mind’, though the words were lurking at the back of his throat.

He sighed. Carel had truly made him what he was - he recalled
as if it
_W
ere yesterday, his fifteenth birthday, when, after yet another
brawl with the other boys of the wagon-train, Carel had taken him
aside, dismissing Isak’s whining complaints with one sentence:
You
have
to act as more than the colour of your eyes.
Those words imprinted
themselves on to Isak’s heart, and when worry or anger clouded his thoughts, he tried to cling to that conversation to help him come to his senses… but now he had the memory of his behaviour in the battle. His disadvantages might not be obvious, but Isak knew they were there, and that he had to overcome them.

Bringing Carel to the palace was the sensible course. His mantra whenever Isak’s fiery temper got the better of his brain was more
soldiers’ wisdom:
You’re not perfect, life isn’t perfect. There are more
important things to be pissed off about, so save your temper for a real
problem.

‘I’ll do so immediately,’ said Vesna, relieved. ‘He’ll be good for you to have around. If Carel knew you in your previous life, he’ll give his
opinion to the man, not the title.’

And is that what
I’m
afraid of?
Isak wondered. Do I
want Carel to
continually tell me
I’m
wrong? Do I want to be the errant child all my life?
He turned back to the road ahead, and to the same view they had
had for the past two weeks. Only the Palace Guard and one legion of
light cavalry were returning with them, and to the casual observer it
looked as though every Ghost held the reins of a spare horse. A fog
of gloom surrounded them: their losses had been severe, both on the
field and in the days following as men succumbed to their wounds. When they arrived home in Tirah, the citizens would have to tread
softly for a few weeks.

‘And to what do you give your opinion, the man or the title?’ There
was an edge to Isak’s voice that he’d not intended. Uneasy nights as
growing pains racked his body coupled with the relentless days of travel
were making him irritable and restless. His newly developed muscles
were crying out for exercise beyond hacking chunks from unfortunate
trees that he passed by. With Bahl in a similar mood - albeit for different reasons - Isak fought extra hard to keep control of his temper,
but there was always a trace of pent-up anger when he spoke.

‘To both, my Lord.’ Vesna’s reply was assured and immediate.

‘Both?’ Isak laughed, a little bitterly. ‘You’re remarkably honest, especially when compared to your peers. They watch me like a wolf
that’s just arrived in camp.’

‘That’s because they are not from Anvee; they are not
your
bonds
men. You have no reason to trust them; they have no need to earn
your trust.’

‘And you do?’

Vesna smiled and nodded. ‘As my liege and holder of my bond,
you could destroy me with a few words. You are also one of the most
powerful men in the tribe, so as your star ascends, so will mine. That

means I speak to your title in part, but not all. If I’m going to tie mys
elf so closely to your cause, I might as well try to like you; I can
always fall back on being owned by you if that doesn’t work.’

In spite of his mood, Vesna’s words made Isak laugh out loud. He
did like the man, for his confidence as much as his honesty. All he
needed was a reason to trust him, and this one sounded as good as any.
Bahl certainly seemed to approve; Isak was quite sure he’d have made
any disapprobation clear if he thought Count Vesna to be a danger.
Isak had been glad of his presence over the last week or two: he was
proving to be a useful man to have around.

He made a decision and turned to face his bondsman. ‘In that case,
Vesna, I would be grateful if you would not forget that I have a real
name. It might not be impressive, I might not like it all that much,
and it might have been given as an insult, but it’s mine. Isak is who I am. If you’re to be a friend of mine, you had better remember that.’
‘I will, my Lord. Thank you.’

Isak turned sharply, in case he was being mocked, but found only a broad smile on Vesna’s face. ‘Unfortunately, I suspect I have more enemies than friends,’ he said, quietly. ‘I don’t pretend to understand why I was made Krann, or why I was given these gifts. I’m far from
being a Saviour-‘

‘Perhaps it is something you have to become, rather than be born
into?’ Vesna didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

‘Me? Not in this lifetime!’ replied Isak with a bitter laugh. ‘But it
doesn’t matter what I think. Within a few hours of being Chosen, two
men I’d never met tried their best to kill me. That’s too much of a
coincidence for me.’

Vesna looked surprised. ‘I heard about the training ground, but I met Sir Dirass Certinse several times. I can’t see him offering to be
assassin for anyone - and his family would hardly have wanted him to
do it that way if they’d been involved.’

I know, which makes me think there’s someone watching from the shadows. They both looked like rabid dogs, like they were not themselves.’

Vesna made a choked sound and his face paled. ‘That sounds like
the sort of magic necromancers play with.’

Let’s not get too excited. Half the Land is worried about what I
might be - either Aryn Bwr returned to life, or an obstacle to his rise.
How many of them would think it better I just died?’