leading off to the farm buildings dotted about the fields and pastures. Goats were everywhere, freely wandering the heathery slopes, the young boys responsible for them following their charges aimlessly dragging their long switches along the ground.
'There it is!' declared Noran. He pointed to the right, at a low white building on a hotward-facing slope half- hidden amongst the vine terraces. The pair split from the main road onto a narrower path that wound up the hill through half a dozen switchbacks, until they came to a walled courtyard. The wooden gates were open, a handful of Noran's servants waiting for them just inside.
'You can see down to the bottom from the kitchens,' explained Noran, nodding towards a long, narrow wing of the villa that ran along the outer wall to the right. 'Gives them plenty of warning when someone is coming.'
Ullsaard looked around and nodded appreciatively.
'Pretty defensible position. Not bad.' Ullsaard swung off Blackfang and a young stableman trotted across the courtyard, head bowed, and took the chain from him. Noran laughed as he dismounted and handed Thunderbolt's reins to a waiting attendant.
'Doesn't count for much these days, nobody's wanted to attack the Astaans for at least three generations. But yes, you're right. This place started out as a marching fort when my greatgrandfather Asoniu was a general subjugating the Okharans. He didn't bother pulling it down when they capitulated and instead it grew into this lovely place.'
The whole front of the villa was open, a semicircle of ten pillars holding up the front of a domed stone roof in the shade of which lay storerooms and stabling on one side and reception chambers on the other. Noran led Ullsaard between them into a grassed garden, also circular, in the middle of which there was a square pool. Colourful waterfowl floated casually on the pond, bobbing their heads to feed on fronds of weed just below the surface. Wooden benches surrounded the pool and white gravel paths cut across the lawn to the three main parts of the villa.
'Dining and entertaining over there,' said Noran, pointing to the right-hand stretch of the arcing building. 'Next to the kitchens, obviously. On the left are the bedrooms and lounges. I suggest we head to the baths, get rid of this travel-dust.'
'I live in the king's palaces and I don't have my own baths!' complained Ullsaard. 'How do you get your own all the way out here?'
'I told you, this used to be a marching fort… My great-grandfather was a clever fellow, built the whole villa around the baths the legionnaires dug! Actually, they aren't as good as the real thing, wood-heated you see; the Brotherhood refuses to sell us lava.'
'It's a pain in the arse to transport, anyway,' said Ullsaard. 'Well, not just a pain in the arse; it's dangerous stuff. You'd be better off having one of the Brotherhood on hand to keep an eye on it, and I'm sure you would love that.'
Noran's lip wrinkled in distaste at the suggestion. Servants waited to take their clothes as they entered the steam-filled bathrooms. There were only two baths, in fact; one cold, one warm. Despite Noran's modesty it was a rare civility to find in a private house outside Askh. Ullsaard lowered himself into the water with a groan of pleasure. He splashed around for a while before he noticed Noran had not joined him.
'Better than washing in river water, eh?' he said.
There was no reply and he turned to see that Noran had left. A blank-faced functionary stood by the door, holding a fresh robe for Ullsaard.
'Where did he go?' Ullsaard demanded. The servant looked towards the doorway pointedly and returned his gaze to impassively staring ahead. Ullsaard pulled himself from the bath with a snarl at the mute orderly. 'Fucking Maasrites.'
As Ullsaard was pulling on the robe, Noran reappeared, a concerned look on his face.
'Shit!' he said. 'It seems that you can't ride a couple of ailurs through the centre of a town without someone running off to tell the governor. Probably someone from the Brotherhood. Nemtun's invited us to his palace for a feast tonight.'
'Tell him we're very sorry but we're in a hurry and are setting off at first light. It's not really a lie, after all.'
'It's Nemtun, he won't take no for an answer, and if we don't go to him he's bound to come to us, with all of the fucking about that will entail. Shit, I really could do without this.'
Ullsaard tied the belt of the robe tight and smirked.
'I'm not sure why it's such a problem. We'll go to the palace, have a few drinks, eat some of his food and then be back here before midnight.'
'It's Nemtun! How many times do I have to say it? Aalun was very explicit that he didn't want any of the governors, least of all the king's brother, coming to Askh at the moment. I've no idea why, but he only wanted you.'
'Then why in Askhos's name did you have us stop off here? We could have sailed on to Paalun in another two days and Nemtun would have been none the wiser.'
'Because I'm a fucking idiot, sometimes.' Noran strode back and forth across the bathroom cursing inaudibly. He rounded on Ullsaard with a gleam in his eye. 'I've got it! You can go and see Nemtun and I'll stay here. That way Aalun can't blame me if Nemtun finds out about Kalmud's illness.'
'Not a chance,' growled Ullsaard, crossing his arms. 'If you think I'm going to be the one to tell Nemtun his nephew might be dying, you can think again.'
'No, think about it. You can just tell Nemtun you've been summoned to Askh, and don't know why. Nemtun doesn't have to find out anything.'
'I'm not lying to Nemtun just because you wanted to show off your fancy villa. He may be an arsehole, but he was a commander of the legions and is still a Prince of the Blood. That deserves some respect.'
Noran paced some more while Ullsaard watched with wry amusement. The general quickly grew bored and threw off the robe, slipping back into the relaxing bath. A thought occurred to him.
'Wait a moment,' he said. Noran fixed a hopeful stare on Ullsaard. 'Don't get excited, it's just something that doesn't fit. Kalmud would have come back along the Greenwater from where he was campaigning. How is it that Nemtun doesn't know already that the prince is ill?'
'Well, clearly…' began Noran. He scratched his chin as he sought an answer. 'You're right. Word gets around, no matter how clever you are. The ship carrying him back to Askh would have to put in somewhere along the Greenwater, and it's only a sailor's tongue away from becoming common knowledge.'
'That still doesn't help you out of the shit you're in.'
'Maybe it does, maybe it does,' Noran said slowly, wagging a finger at Ullsaard. His gaze drifted away as he fell into thought. 'Yes, that might work.'
'What might?'
Noran looked down at Ullsaard lounging in the bath, startled from his contemplation.
'Oh, nothing. Just let me do the talking when we first see Nemtun.'
'Is this going to be political?' asked Ullsaard with a wary sigh.
'Oh yes. The heir to the empire doesn't fall dangerously ill without a whole shitheap of politics falling on the rest of us…'
II
A troop of forty legionnaires stood in ranks either side of the palace portico. They had white crests on their helmets, denoting that they were the governor's guard. Ullsaard didn't like that; he never had, even though he had started as guard to Allon of Enair. To his mind there were just legionnaires of Greater Askhor. Giving them different coloured hats didn't change that. What it did was make some governors think they were military commanders, when most of them — Nemtun excepted — had never come closer to a battle than hearing about it from a herald.
Something else irritated Ullsaard as he and Noran walked towards the shallow steps leading to the palace entrance. He stormed towards the guard captain, who recoiled as the general stopped just short. He couldn't have
