was calm, the image of a man at peace in the Land. Rarely did the failed Harlequin give away much, but surely he'd have thought about what horrors he would face if he stayed at Isak's side.
How is it I'm served by a man whose qualities surpass my own so completely? Isak wondered, not for the first time.
A sharp pain in his wrist brought him back to the present. He looked down and saw Xeliath had jabbed her thumbnail into the skin, leaving a red mark. 'Stupid boy,' the hazel-skinned white-eye growled before switching to Yeetatchen and spitting a dozen or so angry words.
Without pausing to think, Mihn translated for Isak. 'You claim I have a problem with prophecy? You, a fulcrum of history, should know better than to speak so carelessly.'
Isak was stung by the admonishment in her voice. 'I'm sorry,' he said after a moment of silence. 'All I meant was that such a thing would be too much to ask of any man, no matter how loyal.'
'Too late,' Xeliath replied, closing her eyes. 'It is said.'
Isak looked at Mihn but the man just shook his head. 'We all have our parts to play.'
'What if I have to ask something monstrous?' Isak asked in dismay. 'You accept the burden too easily!'
'I am proud to serve you, whatever you ask of me,' Mihn replied with rare openness. While he had the colouring of a Farlan, his hair and eyes even darker brown than most in Tirah, Mihn lacked the sharp, pronounced features of the tribe; his were small and neat, every edge smoothed off, every expression minimal.
'Is my part simply to ask things of others, then?' Isak said softly.
Mihn blinked. 'In that, I do not envy you. I am glad I merely serve.'
' Mihn, you don't even carry a proper weapon! You never wear armour, I've already asked too-'
He raised a hand to cut his lord off mid-sentence. 'I will do what I must. You should too.' He gestured towards the door. 'For now, we should let Xeliath sleep.'
CHAPTER 5
In the lee of a tall warehouse in the southernmost district of Tirah, two men waited uneasily as midnight passed into the new day. They kept close to the building that bore a reputable clothier's name and watched the small door at the other end of the warehouse. It led to a watchman's room, that much was apparent, but as yet neither of them had any idea why a man with a Lomin accent had cornered the smaller of them three weeks before and arranged for them to be waiting here, at this time, on this night. A silver crescent each had been enough to make it clear the offer of a job was serious, but they suspected their next payment would require rather more than just their presence at a certain time and place.
They were dressed as common travellers, with only long knives at their hips despite the mystery and late hour. The Ghosts would be asking serious questions of people walking the streets armed for battle-there were so many noblemen, hurscals and liveried soldiers in Tirah for the new duke's coronation that anyone without the protection of a title had to tread carefully.
T don't like the look of this.'
The taller of the two looked at his comrade, sighed and reached into a pocket for his tobacco pouch. 'Nothing not to like yet, Boren.'
'You reckon?' Boren's sceptical look earned only a short laugh. The sound echoed back from the high brick walls surrounding (hem and instinctively Boren looked around to see if anyone was coming to investigate. Aside from their breath on the cold night air and Boren's eyebrows twitching, all was still.
'Now I don't say this is the best situation to be in,' the other man continued, 'but you just remember one thing; we've done nothing wrong. We've got few enough enemies as it is, and none this far west. We're not armed to start a fight, we've broken no law within fifty miles, and no thief announces hisself by smoking while he watches a building, so that's exactly what I'm going to do while we wait.'
'Still reckon we're mad to be here without knowing a damn thing, Kam.'
'Well, I like to think that's why I'm in charge,' Kam replied in a muffled voice as he lit his pipe. 'Your friend told us to be here and that there'd be money in it for us – isn't that enough? Unless there's something you've not told me, you're as hard up as I am, so a bit of mystery for a bit of cash don't bother me.'
'It bugs me.'
'Lots of things bug you.'
Boren sniffed and scratched his straggly beard. 'So you're happy that some noble-born stranger tells me to meet him here at midnight? Hunter's moon went down over'n hour ago and I don't see the bugger. Looks suspicious to me.'
'Everything looks suspicious to you,' Kam said, 'but we've covered ourselves and the others'll be watching out too, so leave me to worry about this. If I was your noble friend I'd be doing a tour of the district, checking to see who's come with us. That means making us wait, and since we need the job bad, let's give him time.'
Boren's only response was a mutter but Kam nodded at it all the same and took a long pull on his pipe. The shadow fell into silence once more and Kam resumed his drifting scrutiny of the dark buildings and alleys surrounding them. His ears were sharp; a lifetime of being a hunter in the forested suzerainty of Siul had given him instincts he trusted. They weren't mercenaries – they didn't lead that sort of life – but their home was close enough to the unsettled parts of the Great Forest that they learned how to fight at an early age. Such men were normally the mainstay of the Farlan Army, but Kam's village and those close about were all too vulnerable from Elven predation to spare anyone. Army wages weren't enough to tempt men into leaving their homes unprotected. He lifted his head suddenly; he'd heard footsteps.
'Gentlemen, you look cold.'
They whirled around. Behind them, in what had been an empty alley when Kam had last looked, stood a man wearing a bearskin coat and thick gloves. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face. The clothes were indication enough that this was no night-watchman.
'He the one?' Kam asked, keeping his eyes on the newcomer. He could see the rapier at the man's side and was very aware of his own lack of real weapons. Boren nodded in reply.
'I'm the one, yes,' the stranger replied, 'and I have someone for you to meet.' From his voice Kam realised the man was a good few years older than he, but he wasn't taking any chances that he was so old that he'd not be quick with his rapier. A thin blade was of little use on the battlefield, but in an empty city street it had the reach and the speed to best most weapons. The man hadn't offered his palms in traditional greeting, not even when Kam and Boren, after a hesitant pause, did so.
'Where?' Kam asked before the small insult had time to grow.
The man pointed towards the door they were watching and started off towards it. Instinctively, Boren sidestepped to let him pass and lead the way and he inclined his head, choosing to take it as courtesy rather than precaution. At the door he gave a quick double-rap with his knuckles before turning back and gesturing to Kam and Boren to approach. They did so warily, hands by their knife hilts, watching the surrounding streets. When they reached the door the man pushed it open and stepped inside, then held it open for the pair.
Kam peered inside. There was a lamp on the table in the centre of the room, illuminating a woman clad in a long cloak, her hood still raised, seated by a small black stove, and a few stacked boxes. The warmth from the stove made him ache to go straight in, but he was careful to take a second good look round the room first. When they did enter the man lost no time in closing the door behind them.
He gestured towards the boxes. 'Sit.'
Kam froze at the change in the man's voice; the polite veneer had fallen away; now he was unmistakeably a nobleman used to having his orders obeyed instantly.
And what's changed? Just the woman – and a dog wants to perform well in front of its mistress. Interesting. He looked at his companion and they sank down onto the boxes as ordered. The nobleman stood at the door with his hand on his sword, and that told Kam what he needed to know. Dog's on guard now, but who uses a nobleman as messenger boy? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…
'Jendel Kam and Litt Boren, my Lady.'
'Gentlemen,' the woman began, 'please don't be alarmed by the theatrics.' Her face was in darkness, carefully hidden from the lamp's light.
