seemed to allay their concerns.
'You might be something important in a great city like that,' Randur said, 'but the Council Atrium is so far removed from these people that they can't fathom any of the decisions affecting their lives. Policies get formulated and accepted elsewhere – out here issues are so local.'
'You would say, then,' Rika asked, 'that these people distrust a central government?'
'How can anyone in Villjamur understand the needs of someone living out here? That's why Munio won't even know who you are.'
The old swordmaster returned, 'I'll admit these wines aren't as good as my own cellar, but they'll do. Besides, on your third bottle, you can barely taste that much anyway.' He put down a bottle of red and after a moment's consideration, in which the conversation happened in glances, he filled their glasses. 'My boy Kapp tells me you're city girls from Villjamur. So how did two Jokull lovelies end up this far from home?'
'We need to visit someone in Villiren,' Rika declared.
'My dear lady,' Munio said, 'it has been too long, too long, since I have heard such a pleasantly spoken woman as yourself. In my day, I would work with many a landowner, and there would nearly always be some well- spoken lady present. Many took a shine to me. Back then.'
Rika glanced at Randur. 'He taught you more than just swordfight-ing, I see.'
'Vitassi', Munio observed, 'is not merely swordfighting. It is a way of life. Now, ladies, Kapp, are you staying in this absolute dive of a tavern?'
'We are,' Eir said.
'This is no place for such refined women as yourselves. Come, I have a small manse less than an hour away. We will go there instead and there will be splendours the likes of which you have never seen!'
I seriously doubt that, Randur thought.
*
'It is, admittedly, in a state that needs a little attention.' Munio paced the main hall, lighting coloured lanterns on the tables and sideboards. From gloom to glow to gaudy, they could soon see everything. The exterior was as grand as any small-estate residence, but the design not as pleasing as it might have been. This was no military fortification, that much was certain, but no raiding army could want much from it. There was something of the classical in its symmetry, although no pillars, no nature-inspired flourishes in the stonework.
'I'm not sure how old it is,' Munio whispered, 'but when I bought it I had it refurbished. Many Villiren-branded weaves make up those carpets and tapestries. Wall hangings to rival anything you'd see in Villjamur. But I have neglected to keep things clean.' He leaned towards Rika, a look of optimism in his gaze. 'It is such a chore when one lives on one's own. I have, unfortunately, no wife or servants to assist me.'
Perhaps there had once been sumptuous decoration in this double-cube room. Tapestries were now saturated with mould, and the carpet's pattern suffocated under dust. Paintings were smeared with smoke, the unknown faces within having faded to ghostly apparitions. Ornaments that Randur couldn't identify, silver-coloured and clunky, sat gauchely on the mantelpiece and on the side tables, as if they had been collected by whim. Most of the furniture was made from the same dark wood, quercus, and everything needed a good polish. Leather chairs were arranged neatly enough by the fireplace, at which Munio was now working to introduce some warmth into the room.
'I have several bedrooms upstairs,' Munio offered optimistically. 'I do hope you think it suitable to stay.'
'I'm sure we will,' Rika agreed. 'Very kind of you to invite us.' She turned to Eir and Randur questioningly.
'Yes, it is,' Eir replied. 'Thank you.'
What does the old bugger want? Randur wondered. It's not like him to be so altruistic.
*
In the middle of the night Randur lay awake, on a bed in the centre of the 'suite' they occupied, an uncared- for corner of the manse. Eir huddled next to Rika in a double cot near the window, through which nothing but darkness could be seen, no distant lights to suggest a town or a village. Wind raked constantly against the glass. A candle glowed in one corner.
Sleep didn't come. His mind continuously sifted through his memories, contorting them into obscure forms and references. He grunted a laugh: his old sword tutor, a ruined drunk. How things had changed. Munio was no longer someone who bullied him, who pushed him around.
With a glance at the girls, Randur rose to his feet and left the room. Cautiously, he shuffled downstairs in the pitch-black, one hand against the wall for navigation. Because the rest of the manse was so dark, a glow from one of the rooms was immediately obvious.
Randur nudged the door further, the hinges groaning. There, next to one of the leather settees, stood Munio, and he was sobbing.
'What's wrong?' Randur headed over to the old man, his words muted by the vastness of the decaying room.
'Oh, Kapp.' The silhouette of his swordmaster shambled towards him, past the light of the one candle that was left burning. 'Kapp…'
He could smell the alcohol even from this distance, his sense of smell being pretty much all he had to go on. Randur approached and paused before him. 'Why the hell are you crying?'
'I wasn't,' he blubbered.
'Yes, you were, I could hear you.'
Silence, then Munio shuffled back to his chair, and collapsed into it with a grunt. 'Join me, won't you?'
Randur searched for the best way there, now and then kicking against tables or footstools by accident. He located the settee only by bumping into the arms of it with his thigh, then he sat down beside Munio, though some distance from the alcoholic fumes. 'You've been drinking all night long?'
A contemplative sigh. 'Indeed I have, young man.'
'Why on earth have you become like this?' Randur said. 'You'd once have clipped me round the ear just for hinting at such a lack of discipline. What the hell's happened to you?'
'I came here and I was rich. I had no need for anything any more. I no longer even had to try.'
'So you just gave up then,' Randur said. 'Just like that.'
'You have never found yourself in a position where so much money comes into your possession in one go,' Munio mumbled. 'It ruined me – quite simple, really. I have no excuses.'
'When I saw you in the bar, I wanted to hit you at first.'
'You would have been well within your rights to do so. Nothing more than I deserve.'
'How could you just abandon your students?' Randur demanded, annoyed and yet sympathetic to Munio's resigned attitude to his failure.
'I taught you all I could. You no longer required my services – not in the end.' Then, 'So, this Rika lady,' Munio continued, his tone spuriously optimistic. 'Is she wedded? Some strapping lad waiting for her? You think a gentleman of my age stands any chance with such a refined individual?'
'No, it's not that,' Randur sighed. 'She's not really, uh, in the market for that kind of thing.' Being here in the manse, Randur felt he could trust the old man a little more. So he decided to reveal a little about who the girls really were.
Munio merely gaped at him for a long moment. 'Empress?'
'Well, not any more. But shush now.' Randur glanced around sheepishly. He whispered a few more of the basic details. 'So that is why you can't hope to get together with someone like her.'
'Destined to be alone. Oh, my life is such a mess…'
'Why not talk more about it?' Randur offered.
'Talk! You can tell that a woman raised you. Talk, indeed, as if talk could make me better. Whatever happened to just shutting up and getting on with life? You want to talk, let me tell you this: I once was something, Kapp. And moments of my life are now only memories – if even that. I'm nothing. You will be one day, a nothing just like me. You're filled with the hopeless optimism that blesses youth, but which then taunts middle age. We will all of us fade, like this world of ours will. Cultures come and go, and nothing remains of them. So what else is there to do but drink?'
'Don't be so bloody miserable,' Randur snapped at him. 'People are dying in this world for less that you have – I've seen them pleading outside the gates of Villjamur, no food or opportunities. Refugees crammed up against
