Isak realised a grin had stolen onto his face. He made a dismissive gesture. ‘I was just thinking how much of a swaggering braggart you are these days.’
‘And after all those demonstrations of humility you gave me,’ Mihn said with a bow. ‘Now come on, the others are waiting for you to show them how a sack of potatoes really rides.’
They went down together to the courtyard at the rear of the castle where horses stood waiting. Twelve of them would cross into Vanach, that specific number one of the many ostensibly pious instructions Vorizh Vukotic had described in his journal. Doranei had gone ahead to arrange fresh horses and supplies, accompanied by the night-dwelling Zhia. Only Isak was taking two horses, Megenn and Toramin, with him; the others would change on the road regularly. The ever-practical General Lahk had looked after Isak’s incredible beasts; he had taken the smaller, Megenn, himself and given the other to Swordmaster Pettir, who was a fine horseman and well-capable of handling the fiery, nineteen hand stallion Toramin. They had been more than happy to return the horses to Isak, and while he hadn’t been able to remember the pair, his hands had seemed to know what to do and he found himself grooming them as each preferred.
As Isak exited the tower his companions all mounted up, but for a moment he stood and surveyed the small party willing to follow him into Vanach, a city-state notorious throughout the Land for its savagery towards both outsiders and its own citizens. Daken sat uneasily on Isak’s far right; the white-eye was barely recovered enough from his injuries to ride, but he would not be left behind. Legana looked just as uncomfortable, despite her regal detachment.
General Lahk’s twin, Tiniq, from Isak’s personal guard, stood alongside Leshi, his kindred spirit, and the savage Ascetite agent Shinir, while Mihn, Vesna and Veil, waiting with the Narkang battle-mage Fei Ebarn, formed a more friendly coterie.
‘Goin’ ta give us a speech?’ Daken asked with his usual antagonism.
Isak shook his head slowly. He realised the white-eye would be constantly pushing him over the course of the journey. King Emin had been confident that Daken would follow orders when there was danger nearby, but less sure how he might act during the quieter moments.
‘Daken,’ Vesna called, and when the white-eye ignored him, Vesna nudged his horse forward until he was directly in Daken’s line of sight, then moved close enough that the white-eye couldn’t help but see it as threatening. ‘We’ll have no white-eye bullshit here, you hear me?’ With the spirit of Karkarn inside him, Vesna’s voice carried authority and power with every word.
Daken’s fingers twitched, aching to go for his axe, but he held out and did not respond to Vesna’s challenge — but it was a real effort to tear his eyes off the Mortal-Aspect and turn his horse away.
‘No speeches, not from me,’ Isak said. With an effort he hauled himself up into the saddle and looked around at his companions. ‘I’ll be glad if I manage not to fall off my horse today.’
‘You better not,’ said Shinir; ‘we really don’t want to be in Vanach too long after harvest. They’re going to want our horses any time of year, but once winter hits they’ll eat anything, so strangers get really welcome all of a sudden.’
A roughly stitched scar ran back down the side of her head, and that tight, swollen skin added to her usual expression of contempt. The supernaturally-skilled Shinir was, along with the ranger Leshi, one of the few who managed to penetrate the state of Vanach — and return. Neither were keen to try to repeat the performance, let alone travel to the city of Vanach itself.
‘Nothing like a bit of incentive,’ Isak muttered to Mihn.
He paused a moment, then remembered to touch his heels to Toramin’s flanks and the huge warhorse started off eagerly, barging a path past Shinir’s mount as he had been trained to do. With a click of his fingers Isak summoned Hulf. The dog raced ahead, still nervous of so many horses. Mihn sighed and fell in behind Isak, as Isak’d no doubt intended Hulf to do so. He ignored the muttered comment and sniggering behind him; the journey was going to be long enough already without bickering to start them off. This wasn’t the first time he’d travelled in similar company. Isak might not be quite the white-eye he had once been, but there were still more strong personalities here than you’d want in an entire army.
Sorting that out can be Vesna’s problem, Mihn decided, watching Isak, who had lost much of the natural balance he’d once possessed and was clearly struggling to match Toramin’s natural rhythm.
Most likely Isak will manage to provide me with enough problems to deal with. He usually does.
Knight-Cardinal Certinse held back in the shadows and watched the soldiers eying each other suspiciously. They might all be dressed in the uniform of the Knights of the Temples, but each man displayed subtle differences, declare their allegiances. Their lords sat in Akell’s magnificent council chamber, the Hall of Flags, through the pair of grand doors. Certinse had no doubt that the same posturing and sizing-up was taking place within as well as without.
He recognised only one of the faces, the one man who sat with his eyes half-closed and ignored the rest. He was a hatchet-faced knight from Canar Fell, a renowned fighter even among that city of warriors, but wearing the white braiding that indicated he was General Afasin’s man, the other half of the Mustet delegation. The rest of the young bucks came from Embere and Raland; they were here as escorts for their lords, and desperate to win names for themselves if the opportunity presented itself.
Certinse sighed, his fingers automatically moving to the old coin hanging around his neck. He briefly ran his fingers over its grooved surface, then tucked it inside his tunic.
The point of no return, he thought, but in his heart he knew it was not; that was long-past. Now he had to come good on the promises he had made. His thoughts returned to the coin. Even when he took it off he could feel it resting against his chest, a reminder of the bargain he had made.
The Knights of the Temples had no mages and Certinse had not met many, but even so he fully understood the acceptance of a bargain with a creature of magic. He hadn’t appreciated it at the time, but the more he considered it, the more he realised the significance of taking Ruhen’s coin.
‘Planning your strategy?’ whispered a voice in his ear.
Certinse managed to hide his jolt of surprise. Ilumene moved like a cat, but the big mercenary had crept up on Certinse half a dozen times in the past weeks and the Knight-Cardinal was growing accustomed to soft voices from the shadows.
‘Just reflecting,’ he muttered in reply. ‘Now I know your true allegiance, it occurs to me my family has not profited from its association with Azaer.’ Cetinse’s broken nights of sleep had culminated in a waking dream where he’d conversed with a figure of shadow and learned much about his family and the future of the Land.
The comment didn’t appear to surprise the man he’d known until recently as Sergeant Hener Kayel.
‘You don’t think so?’ Ilumene asked. ‘High Cardinal of the cult of Nartis in Tirah, the Dukedom of Lomin, Knight-Cardinal and Supreme Commander of the Knights of the Temples — what were you hoping for exactly?’
Certinse faced Ilumene, who wore a white brigandine and trousers; his weapons were barely hidden beneath the long white cloak that was as much of a uniform as Ruhen’s Children had. That he was openly dressed that way in Akell spoke volumes, given the violent response Ruhen’s followers had received in recent weeks from the fanatics of Akell.
‘My father is dead. My brothers are dead. My sister and nephew are dead. It’s enough to give the last remaining Certinse pause for thought, don’t you think?’
‘Mebbe, true, though we all die in the end — it’s what happens before most folk care about. Could just mean you’re not so rash as some members of your family.’
‘Or they were sacrificed when their time came?’
‘Wasteful of us, then.’ Ilumene’s face went suddenly serious.
‘More the style of the Gods than Azaer, if you think about it. They like to play with their toys, then throw ’em away, careless of the mess they leave behind.’
Certinse frowned in thought. ‘What does that remind me of? I’m sure I’ve heard of something similar said before.’
‘Aryn Bwr’s first charge against the Gods,’ Ilumene said. ‘I wouldn’t mention that to your colleagues, though; he’s not so popular in these parts.’
‘Yet you want me to follow the path the great heretic once trod?’
‘The last king wanted to tear down the pantheon,’ Ilumene corrected, ‘to break the power of the Gods. Our goal’s to redraw the lines, not tear up the map.’
Certinse didn’t look convinced. ‘And Azaer had no hand in his rebellion, in the Great War?’
