'Not at all. We hope it will be less of a taking of power, and more of a shift in values. I come to tell you that we will bring you a gift, something that should convince you of our genuine motives. It is under careful guard, so we haven't yet managed to secure it, but within two weeks we shall. The head of our group suggests you and your men, however many guards you wish, of course, meet us at the Ivy Rings on Silvernight. It is an abandoned temple of standing stones, a week's ride from the city.'
'As simple as that? Do you think I'm soft in the head? You'll have to give me a reason to believe you or I'll break your legs and pack you back off to Piety Keep.' Isak didn't bother to disguise his anger, but then he paused.
Calm again, he asked, 'What's this secret you've hidden from the Knight-Cardinal?'
'It would mean nothing to you, it is merely the circumstances of the finding of the gifts we offer you – though he is unaware of what we offer. I myself do not know.'
Isak didn't bother trying to unravel the words, which made little sense to him. The major obviously thought whatever it was would go over his head. Try me.'
The man swallowed nervously. 'Very well. The gifts – what we will
offer to you – were brought back by a man of our Order from an expedition into the elven waste years ago-'
'To Keriabral?' Isak had a sly smile on his face as the major's expression turned to one of bewilderment.
'You've heard of it? But he was the only survivor- How could you possibly know?' There was near-panic on his face as he ran the names of possible traitors in his group through his head.
'There were two survivors,' Isak said, 'well, three with this new one. If we carry on at this rate there'll have been no one killed there at all.' Isak's comment drew a furious look from Carel: every soldier feared dying on a field far from home. Your family and friends might never know how or why you died, let alone where: to be lost without burial or the administering of rites was what petrified most men going into battle. It was not something to be belittled.
Isak shot him a look of apology.
'I had no idea,' whispered the major. 'The man was sent back alone, soon after they arrived at the castle – he was a woodsman, an expert, able to survive almost anywhere. He made it back to Embere and found an escort to accompany him to the Fortress of the Devoted. When he heard that the others had never returned, he hanged himself in guilt at having abandoned them.'
'Not much of a secret, considering the consequences if your own leader finds out.'
'There are ramifications that would cloud our purpose in this Age.'
Isak laughed. 'How convenient. Well, I'll think about what you've said and let you know.'
'My Lord, this is a matter of the utmost secrecy; we can afford no contact or the Council will put a stop to everything. If the Knight-Cardinal knew about this, he would have us all killed and take the gifts, perhaps even try to kill you.'
Isak sat back with a sigh. For a few heartbeats he didn't move, then he looked to both Mihn and Carel. Neither took the opportunity to speak.
'I still have to think about this,' Isak said. 'Count Vesna will be wearing a lady's favour for the joust. If it's red on the last day, I will be there. White, I refuse. That gives you enough warning?'
'It does, my Lord,' Major Ortof-Greyl said, rising. 'I thank you for your time.' He bowed low, then followed Mihn out.
Carel sat down next to Isak, their concerned expressions almost identical.
'I though life could not get any more complicated.' There was no wry humour in Carel's voice, just fatigue. He was beginning to feel his age. 'I'm assuming that you'd have told me if you ever believed yourself to be the Saviour, or anything else. So what are we going to do about all those who think you are?'
Isak scratched at the stubble on his cheek. 'I don't know. I just hope we can avoid too many people dying over it. I've never had much of a plan for my life, certainly nothing so grand as becoming Lord of the Farlan. That was surprise enough.' He sighed heavily.
'If we have to go to war over a lie, or over the misinterpreted ram-blings of madmen, then perhaps the Land would be better off without me.'
Carel turned in shock, but he saw nothing more than weary resignation on Isak's face. He placed a hand on Isak's huge shoulder. These days, whenever he touched his boy, it didn't feel quite like flesh under his palm. It made him uncomfortable, but he put that aside for Isak's sake. Then let's make sure it never comes to that,' he said quietly.
CHAPTER 32
The day of the Spring Fair came too soon for the brooding Krann. He'd told the others about the major's visit, but they'd not been able to provide the answers he'd hoped for. Tila pointed out that the Devoted had been founded on decent principles, so there had to be some true men within their ranks.
Vesna worked from the other side: he thought it was a trap, and wondered whether it could truly be an ambush. The Ivy Rings were halfway between Narkang and the Fortress of the Devoted. While killing or abducting Isak was a risky venture, it was certainly feasible: it was no secret that the Devoted considered Siulents and Eolis too dangerous to be at large in the Land.
That would be a dramatic move, and one that would mean they'd have to abandon their strongholds in Emin Thonal's kingdom, but if they thought the prize worthwhile, it wouldn't be beyond the Devoted.
The Ivy Rings? Who in the name of Vrest's beard told you about them?' Emin actually looked surprised when Isak asked about the temple. They were sitting on a high terrace looking out over the city, overlooking the tents and banners of the Spring Fair. The morning's rain had lessened and Isak had joined Emin for the midday meal.
The king was dressed as resplendently as ever and Isak could see no trace of the strain that he was surely under. In two days his life and city were to be threatened, yet he was relaxed and at ease.
'I overheard a conversation, that's all.'
Then it must have been an odd conversation.' Emin sounded curious. 'Few people like to talk about the place. But since you asked, the Ivy Rings are a disused temple, once dedicated to Belarannar, but few people go there these days. They're in Llehden, a strange place.'
'Strange?'
'Yes, strange.' Emin sniffed. For a moment he became reserved, serious, before he forced the mood away. 'A friend of mine was lost there a few years past. The shire is a reasonable size – no towns, but a number of villages that are prosperous enough.'
'And the lord of the shire?'
'Does not exist. There's not been a Lord of Llehden for generations. As I said, strange things happen there and folk prefer to steer clear. The inhabitants aren't hostile to outsiders, but they live under rather different rules. I have yet to find a tax officer who is willing to go there for me – at least more than once,' he added darkly. Emin's smile was ambiguous, not angry, but he clearly didn't relish his lack of control.
'Llehden is like an island: the region feels much more isolated than it actually is. If you go there you'll find the landscape feels – well,
'So not a great sight-seeing destination then,' Isak said quietly, and changed the conversation, asking instead about the origins of the Spring Fair.
Emin smiled, relieved, and launched himself into a potted version of Narkang's history.
On the second morning of the Spring Fair, Isak awoke to see a single bright shaft of sunlight piercing the shutters of his room. The gloom of previous days had dissipated and as he opened the windows, he was met by a warm sea breeze. Yesterday the air had been full of the murky tang of seaweed and sodden driftwood. Now he could taste the life and energy of the waves. It put a smile on his face as he pulled on Siulents and belted Eolis
