‘So, are you planning a trip?’ Zhia asked brightly, sapphire eyes carefully noting all the faces of the group they were joining. ‘Somewhere nice, I hope?’
She made a particular point to embrace Legana, casting her eyes over the remarkable changes that had taken place since they last met. Though physical contact with the woman she’d taken under her wing in Scree discomforted Zhia now — Legana’s divine spirit was anathema to the vampire — it was not enough to stop her running tender fingers down Legana’s cheek. The fierce Mortal-Aspect seemed to soften at the gesture, the emerald glow of her eyes lessening as she smiled in welcome.
The Farlan men had all risen as Zhia joined them. ‘Does it sound likely?’ growled Vesna as he retook his seat. The Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn scratched the ruby teardrop on his cheek irritably, as though the War God objected to her presence. ‘We’re following a trail left by your mad monster of a younger brother; it’s a long way from nice.’
‘Which is to be expected really,’ Mihn said. ‘There is reasoning behind it, if you think like an insane heretic.’
Zhia turned to scrutinise the unassuming man. She had not realised his status among the Farlan nobles was high enough to permit him to freely join the conversation. She was a great politician, and she knew the Land’s customs well, especially those of the Farlan, for they had endured for centuries.
‘Vanach,’ Vesna said sourly, ‘that happy little hole of religious fanaticism and brutal tyranny. According to your brother’s journal, all that misery is his way of hiding Termin Mystt until the time comes for some saviour to claim it.’
Isak grinned at the group in general, the broken lines of his face serving only to enhance his dark humour. ‘So you’ve got to pick your saviour then: me or Ruhen?’ He shared a look with Mihn, but the man didn’t join his mirth. ‘I’ve said it before: you lot need to be more careful when you hand out jobs.’
When no one responded, the witch of Llehden took that as her cue and rose. She was swiftly followed by all the Farlan men but Isak, though she ignored them as she made her way around the table. She gave Legana’s hand a squeeze in passing before beckoning to Isak. The white-eye left his seat without a word and fell in beside her, with Mihn and Hulf close behind. They went into the next room, the lord of Moorview’s study in more peaceful times.
The air was redolent with the scents of old, polished wood and leather and pipe smoke. Over a small fireplace was a tall gilt-framed mirror that dominated the room, and for a while the witch faced it, as if subjecting herself to the same exacting scrutiny everyone else received.
‘I must leave too,’ the witch said once the door was closed behind them. ‘Llehden needs me, now more than ever, and Zhia’s presence is not one I relish.’
Isak ducked his head in acknowledgement. ‘Someone has to clear up after me,’ he said, apologetically. ‘Will you- Will you be safe?’
Her face was unreadable. From somewhere she had found an old silk shawl of faded green and brown. He guessed it was a cast-off of Countess Derenin’s, but suited her: autumnal colours on a cool summer’s day.
Isak suspected he knew the woman as well as any man now, but still she remained a mystery to him. Even on the journey to Moorview she had shared little of her opinions and nothing of her history. Mihn said that was the way of witches; part of their power was in being apart from the rest of humanity. Isak didn’t envy her having to make that effort. Having had it thrust upon him, he knew how heavy a burden that could be.
‘There is no way of knowing,’ she said eventually. ‘Daima will be well clear of the lake; only the gentry will go near it now. They know he is dangerous, but I suspect they have much in common with each other now, the Ragged Man and the gentry.’
He lowered his head, both an acknowledgement of her point and a pang of shame that she was handling the fallout of his actions. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
‘For what? I share in the responsibility for what we did to him, Isak. And my task will be easier than yours.’
Isak leaned heavily on the back of a chair, drained by the memory of what they had done. ‘Not just for this, for all you’ve done. My home is Llehden, but I give it up to another. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, and I’ve much to thank you for.’
She put a small hand on the twisted scars of his arm. ‘I am a witch of the Land; it is my place to do what I must, what is right, so there is no need for thanks — but I’ll take it gladly, all the same.’
Before he could say anything more the door burst open. Mihn and Hulf were already moving towards the intruder before he was even in the room, and he yelped with fear at the sight of both of them. Isak watched with a slight smile as Endine hopped backwards and collided with the wall, ending up in a small heap with Hulf standing over him barking defiantly.
Realising the little mage was no threat, Mihn dropped down and hooked his arm around Hulf’s chest in one practised movement. The powerful dog squirmed to get out of his grip, but Mihn managed to manoeuvre him back far enough for Isak to take Hulf by the scruff of the neck, at which he finally quietened.
‘My- Ah, my Lord, my apologies!’ Endine gabbled, hands still protectively over his head. ‘I didn’t realise the room was in use.’
‘I was just leaving,’ the witch said. She inclined her head to both Isak and Mihn and stepped neatly over the floundering mage, taking the opportunity to leave before anything more could be said. Isak watched her go with a strange sense of loss, but he suppressed the feeling and reminded himself of everything he still had to do that day.
‘Come in, Master Endine,’ Mihn said, helping the man up.
‘You are recovered then?’
It was rare that Mihn physically overshadowed any man, but he looked large and powerful compared to Tomal Endine. Though they were of a similar height, Endine was as frail as a decrepit old man. He reminded Isak of someone back in Tirah, but as the thought struck it was accompanied by a sharp pain in his head and he lurched sideways against the armchair, bandaged arm flailing wildly as the chair scraped across the parquet floor before catching on something.
Mihn grabbed his good hand and hauled on it as hard as he could, fighting to keep the huge white-eye on his feet until he had steadied himself.
Moaning, he sank to his knees, one arm draped over the chair’s armrest, as sparks of pain flashed through his head and a cold, empty void opened up in his mind. ‘It’s not there,’ he gasped, blinking back tears. ‘His name’s darkness, just darkness-!’
‘Darkness?’ squawked Endine. ‘What do you mean my name is darkness?’
‘Quiet,’ Mihn ordered before crouching at Isak’s side. ‘Isak, breathe, just look at me and breathe. His name is Tomal Endine, you remember?’
Isak shook his head. ‘Not him, another man, looks like him.’ He shuddered and screwed up his eyes until he found the strength to take a long heaving breath, then a second. ‘The holes in my mind — it’s not like forgetting,’ he whispered.
‘I know — I wish it were; but some of your memories could not be forgotten — we had to cut them out,’ Mihn said compassionately.
‘Who’s the man? The man in Tirah?’
Mihn turned to the bemused Endine. ‘Who looks like him?’
‘A priest? I see his face, a man in robes, and Death’s hand on his shoulder.’
‘A dead priest? High Cardinal Echer, perhaps?’
Isak looked blank at the suggestion, and Mihn decided that was probably correct, if Isak couldn’t remember the name of the man who’d performed his investiture as Lord of the Farlan.
‘The High Cardinal, yes — there is a superficial similarity between them, though Echer was an older man.’
‘Ruggedly handsome, I presume?’ Endine asked with tentative humour.
Isak shook his head drunkenly and allowed Mihn to help him up into the chair. ‘A worm,’ he gasped as he recovered himself, ‘a madman we had to kill.’
‘Well, honestly!’ Endine bristled, his attempt at wit eclipsed by the white-eye’s antagonism.
‘Calm yourself, Master Endine,’ Mihn interrupted, ‘he was killed by his own. It was the High Priest of Death I murdered, so you are quite safe. Now, you came in here for a reason?’
Endine opened his mouth, then shut it again with a snap. He had been unconscious for days after the battle,
