The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (30 page)

‘I know. And that’s precisely why I don’t tell people my first name - though most of them wouldn’t admit to recognising it.’

The count’s pleading tone got through and Tila began to feel quite sorry for him. She had two brothers and knew how cruel boys could be to their friends. The martial life was not a forgiving one, and even
less so for those who shone brightest.

‘You’re right, I apologise. I shall not say a word. Please forgive me for laughing.’ There was a smile on her face still, and Vesna nodded
eagerly.

‘Forgiven, Lady Tila, if you in turn will forgive me my reputation.’

The smile faded from Tila’s face, but she could see nothing to provoke her earlier dislike. She inclined her head regally and stood. ‘Perhaps I should not listen to tales. You appear loyal to Isak, so I shall
not judge you yet. In the meantime, I believe I should be showing you
to the barracks.’

She felt a pang of guilt towards Isak for being so friendly, but only for a moment - when Isak had greeted her earlier, she had seen great
affection in his eyes, but nothing more. She wasn’t quite sure how she
felt, but if there had been something there, it had already faded for Isak. At some point they would have to talk alone, but there was no
rush. She smiled wryly: Lord Bahl would be pleased.

They said their farewells to the veteran Ghost, then Count Vesna, bowing slightly, ushered her out of the room with all the grace of a
practised courtier. Carel watched them go out side by side: at that mo
ment he felt very old, so out of touch. That thought stirred him into
action and he got up to go in search of Chief Steward Lesarl’s offices.
Surely there was something even an old man could do.

The guardsman on the door outside Bahl’s study nodded to Isak and eased the door open. The old Lord had removed his hood and Isak could see the concern etched on to Bahl’s face. The light from the
stained glass windows was weak, and a number of huge candles were al
ready alight, their flames casting strange shadows on Bahl’s furrowed
brow as he sat at his desk.

‘You’re glad to have your friend in the palace?’

Isak smiled inwardly. Bahl was not one for small talk, but Isak hadn’t been the only one to notice that he was making an effort - a
minor thing, but it made him less remote. The people of Tirah had all
heard the last joke Bahl had made at his Krann’s expense, and that
had helped dispel some of their fear.

‘I have more friends here than I’ve ever had in my life, but it’s good to see Carel again,’ he agreed.

‘He was
a
Ghost, was he not? Well, he may be more use than just
as a friend.’

Isak tried to stop his Lord: ‘I don’t want to have to ask that of him. He retired to a quieter life for
a
reason. I don’t want to be ordering
him to kill, or to spy for me.’

‘I understand, but never forget that he was a Ghost. I hear he thinks
of you as a son.’

Obviously Lesarl would report on every new face, but it still rankled that Carel - his friend - had come under the Chief Steward’s scrutiny. He didn’t say anything, but dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

‘I suspect he’ll demand to be involved soon enough,’ Bahl continued, then changed the subject as swiftly as always. ‘You know Count
Vilan is in the palace to see his old friend, Sir Cerse?’

‘I do, but I’ve told Vesna to be patient about getting court apartments,’ said Isak firmly. ‘I’ll deal with Vilan soon enough.’

‘Good. If you need a man to do it - or woman, he has several quite capable - then ask Lesarl. I know you don’t like him, but you don’t
want blood staining your livery.’

‘I’ll be careful. Was that what you wanted to see me about?’ He was
puzzled that Bahl would bother summoning his Krann for something
they’d already discussed.

‘No. There are two other things. Firstly, I have decided you should
leave Tirah.’

‘Leave?’ spluttered Isak, incredulously. ‘But I’ve only just returned!

‘Why would I want to leave?’

Bahl held up a hand to silence Isak’s protest. ‘You will hear me out first. I will not force you to go, but I believe it is for the best.’
‘Was this Lesarl’s idea?’ snapped Isak, unable to keep quiet.

‘I said
listen!’
bellowed Bahl, half-rising from his seat. His great hands gripped the mahogany desk as he leaned forward into Isak’s
face, the curl of a snarl appearing from nowhere. Isak matched it, ris
ing himself. The shadows darkened in the room and the copper tang
of magic suddenly filled the air as Bahl’s anger flared. Isak’s mirrored
it, his eyes blazing, but before anything more could happen he felt a near-irresistible demand from Eolis. His hand twitched down of its own accord before he snatched it back in horror.

The shock restored his senses and he leaned heavily on the desk as the strength fled from his body, hardly aware that White Lightning was now nestled in Bahl’s grip. The old Lord narrowed his eyes. He
had expected an attack, but Isak was so stunned by the power of what
had just happened that a breeze could have toppled him.

Isak looked up, slowly recognising Bahl’s own readiness; his great blade was swept back and ready to strike. The younger man dropped
to one knee, realising how close they had come to blows for no reason
other than his own impatience. There was real contrition when at last he found his voice. ‘My Lord, forgive me. I-I don’t know what
came over me.’

Isak slowly unbuckled his bleached leather sword-belt, a gift from the new Suzerain Fordan, and let it drop to the floor. Only then did he dare lift his head.

Bahl hesitated, wary of a ruse; it was a moment or two before centuries of instinct let him relax again.

Only then did Isak stand and retrieve his chair, waiting for Bahl’s
consent before sitting again.

‘That’s one reason why you should leave for a while. We’ve had enough of each other’s company for a while. Also, with this Shalstik matter, I think it is safe to say they could try again. I want you to go west, to Narkang. It’ll be a long way for trouble to follow unnoticed,
and that aside, King Emin would be a good ally.’

Isak considered Bahl’s words. He knew a little about Narkang, the
emerging kingdom in the west, where all of the cities were populated
by people of mixed blood, not pure-bred members of any of the Seven
Tribes. The tribes had always looked down on half-breeds, but King Emin had created a nation to rival them all.

‘Emin Thonal took the crown at the age of twenty-one, and three years later he conquered Aroth, the larger of his neighbours,’ Lord Bahl said. ‘Two years after that the renowned warriors of Canar Fell surrendered on the field rather than face utter destruction, and five years on, Canar Thrit bowed to economic pressure and voted to join Thonal’s kingdom. In the space of twenty years, Narkang has grown to one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the entire Land.

‘King Emin could be a valuable ally. Our man there is sure that the
king has halted his expansion and there is room now for friendship. He could be vital if there’s more trouble on the horizon, and you’ll find more to learn about court politics in Narkang than even Lesarl
could teach you here.’

‘I will do as you command,’ said Isak quietly, bowing his head
again.

‘I don’t want you to do as I command,’ Bahl replied, softening his
voice a little. ‘I want you to understand why this is a good idea. We’ve
spent too long together on the journey back; I do not wish to let bad
blood come between us. You’re still young and hot-headed, I am perhaps rather set in my ways.’

Isak kept his eyes on the floor to hide his smile in case the old Lord
had missed the humour in his words. The Krann knew he was rash,
but Bahl’s temper was at least as much of a danger to those around.

‘Then I do agree, my Lord. I have no wish to be a prisoner in the
palace, constantly on my guard for the next Estashanti assassin. And
who could turn down the chance to visit Narkang?’ He forced a smile to diffuse the last of the tension.

‘Good. We will discuss this again later, but there is a rather more
pressing matter, one that will, to a degree, explain your short temper.
Tell me, do you feel anything different? Anything out of place?’

Isak shot his master a questioning look, unsure what Bahl was expecting from him. The Lord sighed.

‘No matter, I was not sure whether you would be able to actually tell, but I think it is affecting you anyway. You’ll no doubt recognise it in future, once you’ve felt his presence more strongly.’

Isak’s face remained blank. Bahl stood and spread his hands in exasperation. ‘We have a visitor. I only noticed him once we had driven the elves out, but now he’s in the city and about to arrive at our gate. Pick
up your sword and come with me to greet him. Just keep your temper in check. He isn’t as forgiving as some.’

Isak looked for a name, but was ignored as Bahl walked around him, a slight smile twisting his mouth, and opened the door. The
main wing of the palace was four storeys high, with a warren of cellars extending beneath. Bahl’s chambers, which occupied much of the
small top floor, had a balcony running around them to give a view of the city over the peaked roof of the Great Hall. The palace was
rather more functional than the name suggested, lacking the decor
ation that characterised the homes of the richest noblemen in the
city. Only small things, like the number of glass panes, belied Tirah
Palace’s martial image.

Both men wore soft leather boots; despite their size, they padded down the main staircase as stealthily as panthers, shocking the soldier and maid who were chatting conspiratorially at the bottom. Both jumped when Isak cleared his throat just behind them, bowing as Isak smirked, then moving swiftly out of the way as Bahl strode past imperiously.

In the Great Hall the two white-eyes drew curious glances, but
those were cut off when the warning horn sounded through the clear
winter air. Men jumped to their feet, bowls, glasses and goblets and
cutlery flying in all directions as they scrabbled for their weapons. A
pair of guardsmen had been just entering when the horn rang - by the
time the louder steel clang of the attack alarm followed, they were
ready, their weapons drawn.

Bahl, a vision of calm, walked through the open door, Isak still close behind him. The stone steps that led to the training ground were icy and treacherous, but he trotted briskly down and made his
way straight to the barbican. Isak noticed a bright light flaring from
the normally murky depths of the tunnel.

As he hurried to keep up with Bahl, a wave of awareness broke over
him and rocked him on his heels. He could feel a burst of magic echo
out, an alien feeling that set every nerve screaming danger. His hand
flew to Eolis so quickly that the Ghosts scrambling past leapt back in
surprise.
He had half-drawn the blade when he realised that the old Lord
was still quite unconcerned. No doubt he could feel the same, but he
appeared not to mind. Ramming Eolis back into its sheath, Isak broke
into a jog and caught up. Now he recognised the difference that Bahl had mentioned, the feeling of something that was out of place.

As they entered the tunnel, they saw six men with weapons drawn,
frozen into silhouette by a gigantic figure. A deep bellow of laughter
echoed towards them while massive flames danced from the outstretched hands of the monstrous visitor. Isak felt Bahl draw magic
into himself and followed suit, fighting the urge to tear Eolis out and
charge straight in.

As he closed, Isak took a better look at the newcomer, and realised
with a gasp that it was a Chetse white-eye, a huge man whose barrel
chest almost surpassed description. The Chetse was shorter than Isak,
only a hand taller than the guards levelling drawn bows at him, but
lack of height did not detract from his unbelievable size.

All Chetse were muscular compared to the Farlan, and this man could have been a caricature if it hadn’t been for the aura of raw, limitless strength that surrounded him. He was cackling with sheer
pleasure as the leaping slices of fire raced up to the roof and played in
loops about his arms.

‘Lord Bahl,’ boomed the man as he saw the pair approaching. The
Ghosts almost sagged in relief as Bahl motioned for them to lower
their weapons.

‘Lord Chalat, welcome to my palace,’ replied Bahl warmly as the
Chetse released the magic. ‘May I present to you my Krann? Lord Isak
- Lord Chalat, Chosen of Tsatach.’

Isak bowed awkwardly, his obvious discomfort merely widening the
Chetse’s grin. Bahl then cocked his head to one side and Isak tore his
gaze away from the white-eye, finally noticing the curious sight beside the Chetse: pinned up against a wall was a fully armoured guardsman,
his weapons on the floor at his feet. The foot of some small foreigner
was planted firmly on his throat. The little man held a steel-tipped quarterstaff ready and showed no sign of putting up the weapon.
Looking over to the other Ghosts, Isak saw one was sheepishly wiping
blood from his mouth and another looked less than steady, his helm
knocked askew.