The white-eye laughed and pulled up his shirt, revealing the tattoo of Litania covering much of his chest. The tattoo there was still, the Trickster Goddess still weak, as all her kin were, but Daken’s point was made.
‘Nah, must have a few favours saved up — I’ve done some dirty work for this immoral bitch over the years. The rest o’ you bas tards might be fucked though, aye!’
Two days later the Narkang army arrived at the Chetse border. King Emin rode with General Lahk and Vesna ahead of a legion of Kingsguard heavy cavalry, each in full armour. Emin and Vesna were resplendent in their ornate plate; Lahk, in his usual austere battle-dress, Lord Bahl’s black-and-white tabard, was as famous a sight as the extravagant lion’s head helm hanging from Vesna’s saddle. King Emin’s armour echoed that of the Kingsguard, but was suitably finer in every aspect, surpassing even Vesna’s for artistry; mage-engraved runes incorporated into a design of bees and oak leaves.
Behind them, nestled within a screen of Kingsguard, rode the less prepossessing: Isak in his tattered leathers, Legana with a shawl covering her face from the weak sun and Daken in plain armour and a stained green scarf. Carel’s cream uniform was emblazoned with Isak’s crowned dragon crest, but weeks of travelling meant it was far from pristine.
‘King Emin,’ called the ageing Chetse at the head of the receiv ing delegation, ‘I am General Dev. I command the armies of the Chetse until a new Lord of the Chetse is Chosen.’
Dev’s thick arms were uncovered despite the cool air and steady drizzle, and gold and copper torcs framed the ritual scars on his biceps. He wore a warrior’s kilt, but carried no weapon. He stepped forward to bow low. Those behind him followed suit. Their clothing indicated they were ruling landowners and the remaining Tachrenn of the Ten Thousand, but they held back to make it clear the general spoke for all of them.
The Chetse borders were aggressively defended; their slow-burning war with the Siblis ensured that every man grew up a warrior and any Chetse would feel naked when unarmed. Emin knew it was a deliberate gesture of friendship, that Dev had met them without his axe in hand.
‘General Dev,’ King Emin replied in surprisingly good Chetse, ‘your reputation precedes you. I am glad to finally meet you.’
‘Yet you do so with an army at your back,’ Dev pointed out. ‘Not an auspicious start, would you say?’
King Emin inclined his head and dismounted, Lahk and Vesna doing likewise. ‘It remains my hope that I can prove Narkang’s friendship to your tribe,’ he said as he advanced a little way on foot, ‘if you would agree to hear my offer?’
‘I’m a soldier, not a politician. Friendship is something that is earned, not bought with gifts.’
‘A soldier’s friendship perhaps,’ King Emin replied, unruffled by Dev’s gruff words, ‘but a nation is a different beast. The business of a nation is improving the lot of its people, and the gifts I intend are to the Chetse tribe as a whole.’
‘It isn’t my tribe you need to persuade, it’s me,’ Dev said.
Emin nodded. ‘And if your reputation were that of a greedy man, I’m sure your friendship would be far more cheaply bought.’
Some of the Chetse gave an angry start at that, and more than one hand tightened around an axe-shaft until General Dev raised a hand without looking back.
‘I might not be greedy, but the Menin left our armies badly depleted and our capital city in turmoil. The expense of invasion is considerable.’ He ran a hand through his thinning grey hair and spent a while regarding the Narkang force stretching out for miles behind King Emin, no doubt looking for the Menin.
‘I’m not here to fleece you,’ Dev continued at last. ‘Well, not entirely. You want to take an army through Chetse lands, almost past the Gate of Three Suns itself, and you’ll pay, and you know that — so not a surprise to you, that one.’
He sighed. ‘But that’s not the problem. Money and concessions don’t buy off the blood oaths many under my command have sworn.’
‘The Menin,’ Emin stated gravely. ‘Is your hatred really so great that it defies reason?’
General Dev gaped at him. ‘You of all men can ask that? They obliterated Aroth! They slaughtered most of the population, civilians and soldiers alike, all wiped out without mercy. How can you ally your people with such monsters?’
King Emin turned back towards his troops and looked at the faces of his soldiers before replying to the general’s question. ‘How? Because I must. Do you think it was easy? Do you think my people are sheep, to be led unthinking whatever I decide? This war must be fought, and I am outnumbered. My choice was to kill them all and accept grave losses, or bring them to the fold and use their strength for something greater. You are a reluctant ruler of your people, but a king must make such choices.’
‘Why is this war so important to you?’
‘Because the child Ruhen will overturn the Pantheon of the Gods if we do not stop him. Because all of the Gods are threatened by his actions — your own patron included.’
‘Tsatach?’ General Dev said with sudden venom. ‘Then why does our God not warn us, or act? Do you claim greater knowledge than the Gods, or is he so weakened he cannot even find the dreams of his chosen people, his priests? Or does he not care? Are all the promises of the cults so empty our God himself will not stir to warn us?’
Emin looked into the ageing warrior’s eyes and saw the terrible strain Dev was under, and his heart softened at the sight. Here was a man struggling to hold his people together, alone, and no doubt challenged at every turn. The priests would prove little use, that powerful elite more of a hindrance than anything.
Have you prayed — is that the source of your anger? Does your God not answer you — now in your time of need, are you abandoned?
‘The Gods do not fully comprehend the threat,’ Emin started to explain. ‘Right now they are at their weakest; they fear any confrontation where artefacts powerful enough to kill them are used.’
‘So you do claim you know more than our God.’ There was contempt in Dev’s voice there, but it was weak; his heart was not in the scorn, Emin could see that. His political skill told him the Chetse leader was hoping for some way out, some ray of light, or sign from a power greater than himself.
‘The Gods know,’ he said softly, ‘but it is in the hands of mortals now.’
His words struck Dev like a punch to the gut. ‘What can mortals do where Gods dare not?’ he said hoarsely.
‘We-’ For a moment Emin’s words failed him, then he said, ‘We can match this threat. My allies are more than just Menin, and upon them I gamble the future of my nation. The future of the Land itself lies in our hands, and now we have the strength to win this war.’
‘The Devoted army is greater than yours,’ Dev warned. ‘They outnumber you comfortably.’
‘But they have only numbers on their side. We have Gods, and others besides. The Legion of the Damned march with the Menin; Karkarn’s Iron General and Fate’s Mortal-Aspect sit but a few yards from you, and then — and then there is another stronger than any of them.
‘General Dev, I urge you: allow us passage, our Menin allies too. I have given them assurances; they have fought and died for my cause. I would make the Chetse Narkang’s greatest allies in trade rather than make threats, but I cannot stand aside, and I cannot allow the enemy to escape.’
The general’s shoulders slumped. ‘My people will not accept it,’ he said, almost apologetic now. ‘Our honour demands blood.’
King Emin turned again, this time seeking out two sets of eyes among the crowd. They were simple enough to pick out; even hunched over, Isak was far taller than those around him, while Legana’s eyes shone in the shadow of her shawl. The white-eye slipped from his saddle and made his way forward, his cropped sleeves revealing the black and white skin of his arms.
The king’s guards opened a path before them.
‘General Dev,’ Isak said with a bob of the head, his Chetse rough, learned during his days on the wagon train, ‘my name is Isak.’
Already staring aghast at the mass of scars and unnatural lines visible on the white-eye’s hands, face and neck, Dev staggered back a step when he heard Isak’s name. His own men breathed curses or gasped in alarm, many making warding signs against daemons, but Isak did not react, not even when the boldest pulled their weapons. He stared into the old man’s eyes, watch ing the shock play out.
‘But you- It cannot-’ Dev glanced back at his own men and realised some were on the point of attacking. With
