He straightened up. 'You know of Verliq, the mage, yes? What you perhaps didn't know is that he founded a school, one unlike any the Land has known since before the Great War. To ensure his teachings were not lost, Verliq sent many of his works away with his pupils, before the Menin invasion; that's how the West knows of him at all. His students were persecuted in every city, but they endured, and taught pupils of their own, in secret. Among those who know, they're referred to as Verliq's Children. In every city-state in the Land there are men who have his works hidden in their libraries, who believe that learning should never be heresy, even if it contravenes political dogma of the day.'
‘And why are you telling me this? If anyone represents political dogma it's me.' Isak felt a familiar uncomfortable stir in his gut. There was more to this than he was being told; he could practically taste schemes, plots, and secrets.
'And that is why I dislike this, but Morghien says we must trust you.'
'Morghien? He'd not even met me then – and why didn't he tell me this when he did find me?' Isak knew he was sounding petulant, but he was trying hard not to lose his temper.
'Morghien takes his time over everything. You'll never learn the full story in one sitting from him, sometimes for his safety and sometimes for your own. It doesn't take a Seer to know that we've entered the Age of Fulfilment, and we should fear it. What little powers I do have show me a shadow falling over the future.'
'What sort of shadow?' There was something in Fedei's tone that Isak recognised all too well.
'How does Morghien know so much?' Isak asked, crossly. 'The man looks like a tramp; how in Nartis's name is he in league with the King of Narkang?'
'There is more to Morghien than is apparent: he and Emin are a pair in that sense. It dates back to an expedition into the Elven Waste more than a hundred years ago, led by one of Verliq's Children. They went to explore a ruined castle, with a division of Knights of the Temples providing escort. The locals were supposedly friendly, but…'
'So they never came back from the waste? That's not even surprising, hardly some dark mystery.'
'Morghien came back, alone. I doubt anyone but Emin knows the truth of what actually happened, but if you mention the expedition to Morghien- Well, best that you do not. It was after that Morghien started travelling the Land, tracking down Verliq's Children, keeping the links between them alive. King Emin employs a handful of men who assist him in this, perhaps only twenty or thirty in all, but they're as lethal as Harlequins, and utterly loyal to him.'
'You've met them?'
'They deliver messages, ask for news, offer help if I need it-'
'Help?'
'I have no use for them myself, but I've heard rumours: competit-
ors disappearing, mysterious fires, city rulers suddenly going back on decisions. There's never anything definite, of course, nothing that could be laid at their door, but they bring letters whenever they come and sometimes I can trace the hand of fortune to their footsteps.
'There's a famous gang of criminals in Narkang, the Brotherhood. That's the name they use. You can recognise them by a black tattoo on their left ear, very small and easy to miss, an elven rune meaning 'heart' – though I don't know the significance.'
Isak's entire body went rigid and only by a huge effort did he manage to prevent his hand going to the scar on his chest. How many years had they been using that symbol? Could they have known? He was certain Xeliath had been telling him the truth, for the connection to her was undeniable, burned into his skin and quite sensitive enough to recognise a lie.
Isak barely registered the knock at the door; it was Fedei who jumped at the sound, flushing guiltily as he hopped up from his seat. Isak saw the panic on Fedei's face: this man who'd taken a white-eye by the arm and virtually dragged him inside was nervous even talking about the Brotherhood.
'Come,' Fedei eventually called and Ahden strode in with a tray piled high balanced carefully in his hands. Isak helped him lay out the dishes on a side table, then set about them with a will, suddenly starving, and glad of the interruption. The scar on his chest felt tight, constrained, against the beat of his heart.
Eventually, Fedei could stand no more and noisily cleared his throat. 'Speaking of symbols, I see your crest is a crowned dragon. Did the Heraldic Library properly appoint it?'
Isak nodded. 'What of it?'
'Well, the dragon is a portentous symbol. I suppose it is to be expected, but those who have also worn it include Deverk Grast and Aliax Versit.'
'Versit? The Yeetatchen Lord who sacked Merlat?'
'And was only defeated within sight of Tirah. That was him. Grast was the Menin ruler who almost wiped out the Litse, before forcing his tribe to take the Long March. Both men were followed by destruction their entire lives.'
'Did either have a crowned dragon?'
Fedei squirmed under Isak's gaze. 'No. I've never heard of any man to have that,' he said quietly, staring at the floor.
'Tell me about your work,' said Isak suddenly.
Fedei began to relax as he detailed a variety of projects, chattering on for the best part of an hour while Isak ate his fill, then sat nursing a large goblet of warmed wine. It was clear that Fedei relished the opportunity to talk to someone who showed a real interest in him-most of his colleagues were correspondents rather than visitors. While Isak couldn't provide much in the way of intelligent questions, he did display sufficient enthusiasm, and the Seer made the most of it.
Finally Isak interrupted him, changing the subject entirely. 'So if you're a Seer, can you tell anything of my future?' He remembered Xeliath, and what Morghien had said, but he couldn't resist hearing what Fedei might be able to tell him.
The Seer nodded slowly and reached out to take Isak's hand. He closed his eyes, and started breathing deeply, rhythmically. Isak felt more than a little foolish; had it not been for the focused, entirely serious expression on his host's face, he might have pulled his hand away and laughed it off as a joke.
Fedei's hand was perfectly still for a time, then it twitched suddenly and Isak flinched at the unexpected movement. For the first time he felt a slight rush of magic from the Seer, just a trickle. The candles guttered under a draft that didn't touch Isak's skin; he sensed rather than saw a movement, something flashing around the shadows of the room. He twisted in his seat to follow it over his shoulder, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He would have dismissed it as fancy before he saw Fedei looking in the same direction.
'What was that?'
'I'm not sure, my Lord.' The Seer's voice was level but Isak could smell his fear. He shivered and took a deep breath. 'When I touched your hand, I had a vision of some sort – not a portent of the future, but something else. I saw Aryn Bwr – or perhaps you, but the figure seemed lighter, less substantial than you are – fully armoured, with dragon horns on his helm. He casts a perfectly black shadow. He stands within a circle of twelve crystal columns, each one twisted and bent into some awful shape. Facing him is a figure, a knight with a fanged sword in one hand and a hound's leash in the other.'
Isak couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through his body as he pictured the knight in black armour and his massive fanged sword. He could remember the icy bite of its edge all too clearly from his dreams.
'The leash runs to two figures that sit at his hgelC a naked Chetse on one side and a winged daemon on the other.' The Seer's voice shook a little.
'What does it mean?' Isak could hardly bring himself to ask the question, but he forced out the words.
The Seer, pale as a ghost, slowly swivelled his head to match Isak's gaze. The movement appeared to break the stupor he was in and he sank back into his chair as though drained of strength.
Isak got up and moved quickly to his side. The Seer's breathing was shallow and for a moment Isak thought his heart had given out. He lifted him into a more comfortable position and asked what he should do to help. He
