'All right. Leave us. No, use the other door.'
The aide went out, looking relieved to be going.
Grentor wore a perplexed expression.
'A word of advice, High Cleric,' Hacher told him. 'You'll find that the emissary is… let's say strong willed, and does not easily tolerate dissent. This is a person of enormous power and influence. It's as well to keep that in mind.'
Grentor would have replied, had not the double doors leading into Hacher's chambers not flown open with a crash.
Two figures walked in. They were human. At least, nominally so. Both were males, and impressively muscular. They were dressed for combat, in black leather trews, jerkins and steel-tipped boots, and they carried scimitars.
Beyond these superficialities, they were wrong. Their eyes were wrong. They had a fixed, glazed quality that seemed devoid of any spark of humanity. Their faces were wrong. The skin appeared overly taut and expressionless, and it had an unhealthy yellowish tinge. The way they moved was wrong. They progressed inflexibly, as though their spines were too rigid, and there was a slight tendency to shuffle.
The pair inspected the room, looking behind drapes and opening doors. They said nothing. Seemingly satisfied that no assassins lay in wait, they shambled to Hacher and the priest. One extended a beefy, parchment-coloured hand.
'I hope you've no intention of searching me?' Hacher complained indignantly.
'We'll let it pass this time.'
As they turned to the source of the voice, a female swept into the room. Even Hacher, who had seen her before, was taken aback by her appearance. For Grentor, it was a new and startling experience.
There was something perplexing, not to say downright disturbing, about the way she looked. The structure of her face was strangely off beam. It was just a little too flat and wide, especially across the temples, and her chin narrowed almost to a point. Her skin was curious. There was a light silvery green patina to it, as though stippled with tiny fish scales. Her nose was slightly convex, and her shapely mouth seemed overly broad. She had ink-black hair that fell to her waist.
What held Hacher and Grentor were her eyes. They were dark and undoubtedly mesmeric. But they had a deeper, more unsettling feature. Like portals, they allowed a glimpse into a realm of shadowy matter; infinite, merciless, chaotic.
Ignoring any rational definition of the word, she was beautiful. Beautiful in the way of a carnivorous plant, a wolf spider or ravening shark. Nightmarish yet alluring. Unwholesome.
She snapped her fingers. The sound was loud and brittle. In the silence that had settled on the room, it was almost shocking. The two dead-eyed bodyguards responded to it as surely as a spoken command. Turning as one, they strode out, Hacher and Grentor staring after them.
Hacher collected himself first, and greeted their guest. 'My Lady Jennesta.' He bobbed his head respectfully.
'Hacher.'
'May I introduce Brother Grentor, High Cleric of the Order of — '
'Yes, yes.' She waved away the rest of his sentence with a lazy motion of her hand. 'I'm aware of who he is.'
Grentor was halfway through a low bow. He straightened, looking uncomfortable.
'Please, ma'am,' Hacher said, gesturing to the best chair in the room, 'be seated.'
She regarded it with the disdain of someone expecting to be offered a throne. But she suffered the indignity, the silk of her emerald gown giving a gentle swish as she sat.
'Those bodyguards…' Hacher began, his gaze flashing to the door in anticipation of them returning any second.
'A fitting way to employ miscreants, don't you think, Governor?' Jennesta smiled.
Her teeth were small and white and quite sharp.
'Miscreants?'
'Enemies of the state. Dissenters. Those who would challenge our authority.'
Hacher felt sure she meant her authority, but kept that to himself. 'One of them… I thought I recognised — '
'You probably did. Disloyalty has no respect for position. The blight can even infect those quite high up in the administration.'
Hacher had no doubt that was a not very veiled warning directed at him.
'How better to punish traitors than having them serve the state they sought to undermine?' Jennesta went on. 'Dead yet undead; an exquisite fate.' Her relish was palpable. 'But I'm not here to discuss my pets. There are concerns, Hacher.'
'Ma'am?'
'You know my meaning well enough. The situation here is displeasing.'
'It's true we've had our problems. But there are stirrings in all the provinces from time to time. We have things under control.'
'Really? And what happened yesterday, was that an instance of how in control you are?'
'Ah, you heard about that.'
'I hear about everything, Governor. Have no doubts on that score.'
'We have a small seditious element. They got lucky.'
'They had a human with them.' She glared balefully. 'Is treachery rife here, too?'
'It was some kind of fluke. Such a thing has never been known.'
'Until now. How many more humans can we expect to side with the beasts?'
'The event was serious; I'm not denying that, ma'am. But it would be a mistake to take one incident and — '
'But it isn't just one. You have the makings of a rebellion here.'
'I wouldn't go that far.'
'Of course you wouldn't. You're complacent. What measures have you taken against the military who allowed the raid to succeed?'
'Reprimands have been issued and — '
'Have all those responsible executed.'
'Our own people?'
'To think they call you Iron Hand.' She laughed derisively. 'You're soft, Hacher. That's why the governance of this region is so dismal. Discipline will be imposed, and you'll start by signing death warrants as I dictate.'
'I protest at this blatant — '
'And if you don't want to see a warrant bearing your name nailed to the castle gate, they'll be some changes of attitude in this administration.'
In deference to her superior position, Hacher suffered the threat in silence.
Jennesta turned her attention to Grentor. 'There's no call for you to feel smug about this.'
'I can assure you, ma' am — '
'The Order has done as badly in Acurial as the military,' she ploughed on. 'The martial and magical wings are expected to cooperate and support each other. That obviously isn't happening.'
'I beg to differ. We've never faced this kind of situation before.'
'But it's just a handful of rebels, according to the Governor.' Her words dripped sarcasm. 'Oh, and a lone human who's made cause with them. But that's too much for you, even with the sorcery you have.'
'With respect, members of the Order have lost their lives fighting these rebels,' Grentor informed her gravely.
'Then they deserved to, and good riddance. Any who aren't up to the task have no place in any Order I lead.'
'That's a little harsh, if I may say so. As you know, ma'am, magic can be an imprecise art.'
'Fool. It's only as crude as those practising it.' Jennesta deftly unwound the silken scarf she wore, and bunched it. 'Here, catch.' She lobbed it at the priest as though it were a child's ball.
