The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (28 page)

‘True enough. If you weren’t Farlan, I’m sure the Chief Steward
would have your murder planned already. Anything else that might
make sense of all this?’

Isak hesitated. There were some things he didn’t mean to tell any
one, not until he understood them himself-he had no idea what was
significant or not. The Gods didn’t work in obvious ways; the Age of
Fulfilment was just that, an Age. It could last centuries. Still he found
himself saying, ‘There is one thing. A voice.’

‘A voice?’

‘I hear it in my dreams sometimes, a girl’s voice. I think she’s calling
me, but I can’t understand her.’

‘Looking for you? I doubt that would impress Lady Tila.’ He
winked.

‘Tila? You’ve never even met her!’

‘You forget that soldiers gossip worse than washerwomen.’ Vesna
laughed. ‘From what I hear, your pretty little maid’s taken quite a
fancy to you.’

Then you’re as bad as the rest of them,’ he growled. ‘In case you
hadn’t noticed, I’m a white-eye. She isn’t.’

‘She
might not mind what you are, not all do.’

‘And not all have parents expecting to marry their daughters off well, and expecting children. I may well live long enough to fight
beside your great-grandson, but I’ll never have one of my own.’

‘I’m sorry, my Lord-Isak. I didn’t mean to offend.’

Isak gave a sigh and stretched his arms up into the air, then rolled
his shoulders forward and back, attempting to work the stiffness from
them. ‘I know, and I’m not, really, but Tila’s nothing to do with all
this, so let’s keep her out of it. As for the girl in my dreams, I feel I
recognise her, and yet I don’t.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘What can I do? It’s just another mystery about me that I can’t do
anything about. Maybe it’s just designed to drive me insane wondering about it. But I
will
find out one day, there’s no doubt about that,
and all I can do is be ready for whatever’s waiting.’

The following weeks saw the army getting ever smaller as knights and
hurscals slipped away in small groups to their own holdings. The rest
of the troops searched the horizon for the peaks of Tirah’s towers as
the miles passed away beneath their tramping feet. When they reached
Fordan, the sombre mood deepened. The new suzerain, a greying man of forty summers, had struggled into his father’s armour despite a deep
wound in his shoulder. Now he walked before the coffin, leading the
cortege home.

That evening, the suzerain crammed as many as possible into the manor’s great hall and spoke for a few minutes with dignified grief
about those they had lost. As a last gesture to his beloved father, he
ordered up the contents of their cellars, and barrels of beer and wine
were rolled out for the endless toasts to the regiments who’d fought and the men who’d died. Everyone knew the late Suzerain Fordan
would have hugely approved of having a hundred drunken soldiers as
his memorial.

Isak sat back from it all, feeling out of place, though he’d been as
much a part of the battle as any of them. A pang of guilt ran through
him as he saw a tear in the new suzerain’s eye as he raised a glass to
his father’s memory. That was something Isak would never be able to
do - not even if his father managed some great feat of heroism. Isak
doubted he’d feel much at all when Herman died.

His hands tightened into fists as part of him cried shame. Rising
abruptly, he slipped away from the increasingly drunken mourners,
following a servant’s directions to a tight spiral staircase that led away
from the hall. He told himself he didn’t belong there, belting out
marching songs, and stepped out on to a high terrace overlooking the
fields. The crisp quiet of evening, with the hunter’s moon dropping
behind the distant pines, was a better place to remember the dead.

Isak idly caressed the emerald set into Eolis’s pommel. The cut surfaces were silky in the sharp winter air; the silver claws that held the
stone were wet with cold. The wide river that cut through the neat
lines of fields looked calm in the moonlight, but it ran both swift and
dangerous. Isak watched the phantom clouds of his breath push out over the crenellations, then they were swept away into nothing.

A finger of cold suddenly flashed down Isak’s spine and he flinched in
surprise. Then an icy prickle on his neck made him look abruptly
over
his shoulder. The terrace was only ten yards long, and it remained
resolutely empty. Alterr’s light from high above had cast a deep shadow the wall behind him, but no one - or thing - loitered in it, as far as Isak
could see. There was no window where someone could observe
him, and when he embraced a sliver of magic, he was assured that there
truly was not a soul nearby.

Still Isak felt uncomfortable, as if there were a physical presence standing at his shoulder. The bite in the air crept inside his clothes,
and the shadows grew deep and ancient. His hand closed tight about Eolis. Still he could see nothing. A flicker of panic set in. As a cloud
moved over Alterr’s face, Isak shuddered: this bitter, dark place was not for mortal breath. He turned and hurried back inside.

From the shadows, the boy’s precipitous flight was noted with some
amusement. His uncertainty, melancholy and jumbled fears left a
sweet aroma lingering in the air.

So
blind, still, but have no fear. Not yet. You hardly know who you are
-
you’re not yet ready to know
my
name.

Isak was glad of the silk mask covering his face as the column of horsemen clattered their way through the streets of Tirah. The crowds had
braved a brisk wind and swirling eddies of snow to line the streets all the way to the palace. Under scarves and caps skin was reddened and
raw, but lifted by the smiles and cheers that greeted the troops. A
victory parade through the city always brought out the people, if only
to gawp at the Parian cavalry in all their colourful finery. Even the
Ghosts had made the effort to look their best, and the knights were as
gaudy as ever, but it was Isak who drew everyone’s attention.

At Bahl’s request, the Krann was in full armour, the only concession to the cold a bearskin around his shoulders, He managed not
to shiver too obviously. No matter how uncomfortable, he could not
deny the effect he was having on the people -
his
people. They might
still be fearful of what lay behind these particular gifts, but the sight of Siulents and Eolis, and the proud emerald dragons decorating the
flanks of Isak’s hunter, were irresistible.

The people of Tirah cheered their army, and they cheered Isak at
its head. Bahl was beside him, but Isak felt their eyes on his back long a
fter he had trotted under the barbican gate. Flaming brands lit the thirty yards of dank stone tunnel, then the column emerged into the
familiar surrounds of the palace grounds, to be received formally by
the entire staff and residents of the palace and barracks. Guardsmen
and recruits, all in full dress uniform, stood in neat ranks off to the left, with the palace staff lined up on the right. Fearful wives and
children, still not knowing who had survived and who had died, huddled behind the ranks.

Swordmaster Kerin, standing before his men, saluted, beaming, as
the troops clattered past to the sound of his men cheering. Even the noblemen and officials grouped beyond the palace staff added their
voices to the tumultuous reception.

Bahl, having acknowledged his Swordmaster, ignored the rest and
slipped from his horse as soon as he reached the steps. Lesarl had
already broken away from the group of officials, a pair of clerks in his
wake, and fell in with Bahl as he strode into the palace. It was left up to Isak to acknowledge the greeting, bestowing on each group a regal
wave or a smile before he was able to dismount.

The Swordmaster took that as the signal to dismiss everyone and his curt order was echoed by the bellow of a sergeant-at-arms. The orderly lines melted back to their barracks and duties as a stream of
weary knights trotted past and on to the stables on either side of the
south gate.

Isak gave his horse one last pat on the neck and smiled at Kerin, who saluted him again as he passed, on his way to Sir Cerse. The
colonel of the Ghosts turned with a smile as Kerin patted him on the
shoulder, then Isak’s attention wandered to the hundreds of reunions
going on across the ground, with friends, families or lovers. A touch
of sadness stirred in his belly as he watched some collapsing in tears, others laughing in relief.

He was about to head off to his chambers when he noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye, standing motionless in the teeming crowds. The man was staring straight at him, not moving a muscle,
even as a woman behind him bewailed the loss of a husband. With a
shout, Isak tore the mask from his face and sprang forward as the man
broke into a broad smile and stepped forward to meet the bounding
giant.

‘Gods, boy, look at the size of you - I wasn’t sure it was really you for a moment there!’ exclaimed Carel as Isak reached him.

Not waiting for any formal greeting, Isak discarded his gauntlets and reached down to hug him. Carel was now significantly shorter
than him. Isak lifted him off his feet with fierce affection.

‘Aargh, put me down, you ox!’ cried Carel as Isak squeezed the breath from his body. He took Isak’s hand in his, feeling the hard
muscle under his palms. Looking him up and down, Carel’s expression was one of amazement. ‘Isak, boy, you’ve grown near a foot since I last
saw you - and if you fill that armour out the way it looks-Such a change in half a year! Merciful Nartis, your hand feels like it’s been carved from oak!’

‘And you look smaller than ever,’ Isak countered, grinning widely.

Count Vesna walked over from his own horse, a satisfied smile on his lips as he watched the reunion. It was the first time he’d seen the
Krann like this.

‘Hah, and I’m softer in my old age too. Don’t hug me like that again, please, you might snap me in two. Don’t think you’ll be feeling the back of my hand any more now either - your skull was always over-thick even before you were Chosen. Gods, even now I can hardly believe I’m saying that. You, one of the Chosen-‘

‘I know, but you can save the jokes for later.’

‘Those’ll wait.’ Carel stopped and reached up to grasp Isak by the shoulders. ‘I’m not joking now, boy. I hope you realise the honour
done to you.’

‘The honour of having half the Land after my blood?’ Isak laughed at Carel’s expression and stuck his tongue out at him in mock petulance. ‘Oh don’t scowl at me like that, I know what you mean. I’m
just glad you’re here. I was afraid that you’d have gone off on another
trip.’

‘No, with the attack on Lomin, work stopped dead. I wouldn’t have gone anyway. I resigned my position; took work as bodyguard for a merchant. All you need’s the white collar to do that without fear, and
I knew you’d be needing my help sooner or later.’

Isak stopped and looked down at the ground, guiltily aware of the length of time since he’d seen his old friend. I’m sorry, I-‘

Carel shut him up with a wave of the hand. ‘Boy, I know your mind better than you do. I’d have been able to tell you on your first day that
you’d start it off alone. And now I see you like this - oh Gods, I’m so
proud of you. You’ve nothing to apologise for,
nothing.
You’ve settled in, and now you’ve realised you’re in need of someone to clip your ear
from time to time - took your time, but you got there in the end.’

Both men turned to Vesna as the count stifled a snort of laughter.
Ahem, my apologies, Lord Isak.’

‘Tsatach’s balls! You’re Count Vesna?’ Carel grabbed the man’s hand and continued, ‘An honour to meet you, my Lord. Wait a moment—’ He looked from Vesna to Isak, then another smile broke over his lined face. ‘You took a bond of service, didn’t you? Because of the College of Magic. You’re from-Hah!’ Carel suddenly laughed
so hard the men behind him jumped in alarm. ‘You’re bonded to this
great lump of wood?’

‘I have that honour, sir,’ replied Vesna smoothly, his eyes twinkling
as he recognised a kindred spirit. ‘But can I suggest we continue this
conversation inside, away from the troops?’

‘That’s a good idea,’ agreed Isak quickly, realising that the two were
going to get on well, probably at his own expense. He draped an arm
over Carel’s shoulder and turned towards the main wing where hot
food would be waiting. ‘I see you’re well, then.’

‘As well as can be expected for a man who feels his age around all
these boys.’ Carel waved his hand towards the soldiers, unconsciously
touching the white collar on his tunic as he looked at them. Only then did it occur to Isak that Carel was better dressed than Isak had
ever seen him before. A fine coat of short black fur reached down to
his knees, edged in pristine white fox fur. Under this were bleached
soft leathers and a fine pair of high green boots, all of which seemed
unusually foppish for the former Ghost.

‘You’ve taken advantage of our hospitality then,’ Isak remarked,
touching a finger to the coat’s edge.

‘I’ve been here only a few days, but your maid has been looking
after me - since you’re the Krann, I thought I’d better get myself some
new clothes; didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.’ Carel gestured
towards the approaching figure of Tila.

‘Welcome back, my Lord,’ the girl said, curtseying neatly to Isak,
then bobbing her head and adding, ‘Count Vesna.’

‘Have you two met before?’ Isak asked, curious.

‘No, my Lord,’ Tila said, ‘but the count’s armour makes him easy to recognise, and of course his reputation precedes him.’

The count hesitated a second, then bowed low to kiss Tila’s hand
in formal greeting. ‘My Lady.’

As Tila’s face remained impassive, Isak remembered she wouldn’t
share a soldier’s admiration of Vesna’s reputation.

There was a frosty edge to her voice when she at last did speak. ‘Your apartments have been readied, but unfortunately there has been some storm damage to one of the court apartments, and the other two are already allocated. I hope you will not mind using
guest chambers instead. I have had your belongings delivered to the
rooms beside Sergeant Carelfolden’s, since you are both of Lord Isak’s
party.’

Isak gaped at the meek girl he had said goodbye to. The hostility was not open enough to be insulting, but it was obvious all the same.
It was the first time he really saw her as a Farlan woman, taught from
birth that her position would never be equal to that of a man. For the Chetse, that meant women held no opinions; they were docile,
obedient and polite to their masters, never even raising their voices.
The Farlan were different, for Farlan womenfolk turned weakness into
strength in classic military manner: they ran everything from behind
the scenes. It wasn’t shaming for a man’s peers to know his wife made
the decisions, and girls with wit and fierce intelligence were well educated and keenly sought in marriage.

‘Who’s in the other apartments?’ Isak demanded when he found
his voice.

To his surprise, her gaze never wavered, even in the face of his obvious anger. She stared him down as she replied, ‘Suzerain Tehran is still technically in residence, and Count Vilan has been allocated the other apartment.’

‘But we met Tehran at his manor. And Vilan? Fetch Lesarl, now,’
Isak snapped.

The count raised a black velvet-clad hand. ‘My Lord, I am quite
happy with the arrangements. I believe Sir Cerse invited Count Vilan
here, and I would hate to interfere with that.’

Isak looked at his bondsman for a moment and then realisation dawned. He nodded briefly at Vesna, then turned back to Tila and
said politely, ‘My lady, the arrangements are most satisfactory. Please
convey my warmest regards to the Chief Steward. I’m sure he would
have given me a stable if he could.’

Tila curtsied again and swung about to return to the palace.

Vesna breathed in deeply as a brief gust of perfume washed towards
him. ‘I think she likes me.’

‘She has certain opinions, about-‘ Isak blushed, and continued,
his voice softer, ‘about sexual relations. I don’t think you quite meet
her standards.’

Vesna laughed dryly. ‘I should hope not. Those sort of “relations”, as you
so coyly put it, are not for unmarried girls.’

‘I feel sorry for your wife when at last you do marry,’ Isak said with
a laugh.

‘Why? If I get all my dalliances out of the way beforehand, she will reap
the benefit of my hard work and practice!’ He smiled, and Isak
didn’t push the subject further. It was clear Vesna had reeled out his
defence time after time, whether he actively believed in it or not was
not Isak’s problem.

‘Anyway, enough of this,’ the count continued. ‘I can decide how to win Lady Tila’s heart some other time. What’s more important is
that Count Vilan is on a certain list in my possession.’

‘I know; just don’t be too impatient to get his chambers; understood?’

Carel watched Isak. Whether the boy knew it or not, he was growing into his position as much in attitude as he was in body. He felt a
welling of pride in his heart, and gladness: for once his wild boy didn’t
have his usual look of wariness on his face. Now he didn’t have to
keep out of the way, or keep one eye open for a passing blow, nor did
he have to endure the scowls and distrust of everyone he met.

Isak stood tall and proud. He’d shaken off the slouch he’d adopted
as a child to disguise his height and he looked more alive than he
ever had. No longer would Isak have to skirt around society: now life
would shape itself about his battle-hardened figure. It was more than the child Carel had first met could ever have dreamed of. Now, with
an enchanted blade hanging casually at his hip, a dragon on his cloak
and clad in magical armour, he would be the envy of every boy in the
tribe.

As Carel’s gaze paused on Eolis, Isak’s head snapped around. The youth’s face was suspicious for a fraction of a second, then he forced
out a smile again. ‘Enough of business; we need food and wine.’ He
ushered Carel and Vesna towards the Great Hall, where the men
crowding around the roasting boar parted respectfully. Isak piled as
much food as he could carry into his bowl, then directed Carel to the
head table with a nod of his head.