'This was easier when people were just trying to kill me,' he muttered. After a while he reluctantly straightened up and headed for the main stair, where he found Tila and his Chief Steward waiting for him.
'They are well, my Lord?' Tila asked as he reached them. Her face was a careful study of calmness. Lesarl's was quite the opposite: he looked as if he had a thousand thoughts running though his mind.
Isak grunted in response and glanced suspiciously at the door leading to the Great Hall. It was shut, with two of his personal guard stationed on either side, but still he felt a little trepidation. It had taken months of preparation, but now every suzerain in the nation was assembled on the other side of that door, with the exception of the two eldest, who had been unlikely to survive the journey to Tirah; their scions would stand in their place.
Isak's investiture was to be conducted by High Cardinal Echer, and the other three Farlan dukes would lead the people in swearing fealty to their new lord. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but now Isak wasn't so sure. Would the room be large enough to comfortably contain so many powerful men?
Isak's fears were, of course, Lesarl's delight: the most powerful men of the tribe, all together in the same city. That meant deals, alliances, even friendships. The vast majority of the Farlan's eco-nomic wealth was in the hands of the nobility, and most of them would be looking to make the most of this rare gathering. For weeks now, men and women from different retinues had been running in all directions while Lesarl, like a gleeful spider, sat at the centre of this vastly complex web, the recognised master at this clandestine game. He hadn't even bothered to hide from Isak how much he was enjoying all this.
'My Lord?' Tila's voice interrupted his thoughts.
'Both well enough to be bad-tempered,' Isak said, 'but for the moment that's all I can ask. My father is at last on the road to recovery, but that means he's back to being a bastard. Lesarl, you have somewhere for him once he's well enough to walk? Enjoying the comforts of the palace means acknowledging I'm Lord of the Farlan every day — he can cope with the pain of his injuries, but that's beyond him.'
'1 have a place in mind, my Lord; one of Suzerain Tehran's stud farms needs an overseer. It'll keep your father out of the way and protected, even if he doesn't want a bodyguard.'
'So let's hope he doesn't refuse just because I'm the one to offer
it-'
'Let me handle that, my Lord,' Lesarl said with a grin. 'I'm sure I can help him to make the right choice — you have more important concerns to deal with right now.'
'Are you prepared for this, Isak?' Tila interrupted — friend now, rather than political advisor. 'If you want a few minutes to yourself, the suzerains will wait.'
Isak smiled with more confidence than he felt. 'I'm ready, better we get it over with. I've been practising the spell to block sound all week, and Lesarl's going to be right beside me, so you don't have to worry.'
The ducal throne had been brought from its normal position in the audience chamber and placed in the Great Hall, the only room big enough to accommodate every Farlan suzerain, duke, synod member and city councillor, as well as the heads of the College of Magic. Without retainers, bodyguards or advisors, they numbered close to a hundred, with twenty identifiable factions in the mix. There were several that Isak needed to speak to privately, so Dermeness Chirialt, one of the few mages Isak was sure he could trust, had taught him a simple charm to enable that.
'And you are certain that you'll be able to sense Cardinal Certinse's emotions?' Lesarl pressed. The cardinal remained the only member of that immediate family at liberty — he was a powerful man, and there was no direct evidence of treachery — but Isak had devised an alternative to having the man assassinated, albeit one they both found distasteful.
'If I can't, I'll bluff him. People know about the Crystal Skulls and he's not so stupid that he'll disbelieve whatever claims I make.'
'And the High Cardinal? That frail old man has put me quite to shame when it comes to terrorising his fellow citizens,' Lesarl said cheerfully. 'He's targeted Suzerain Saroc particularly, and I have reports of deaths in several other suzerainties as well.'
'He'll get a warning with our offer. If the offer isn't good enough for him, then your reports are obviously true and he's lost all sense of reason.'
Lesarl's network of informers had been busy, and once he'd put together their information, he had ascertained that every priest driven to sudden extremism and rage came from one of six cults: the six Gods given prominence in Scree, namely, Death, Nartis, Belarannar, Karkarn, Vellern and Vasle. It was the Gods most hurt by the actions of Azaer's disciples whose backlash of rage echoed out through the Land, infecting those bound to their spirits — the priests, who were tied when ordained — with a*similar fury.
Predictably, Lesarl's reaction had been to applaud Azaer's ingenuity, rather than cry horror at what had happened. Whether by accident or design, it had provoked a reaction from the Gods, which in turn would turn the common folk against them — and without the worship of the people, the Gods themselves would only grow weaker. 'Inspired!' Lesarl had muttered to himself. Isak, hearing him, had grimaced.
'Having Jopel Bern whispering in the High Cardinal's ear isn't helping,' Tila interrupted before he could take his Chief Steward to task.
Isak gave a curt nod. Bern, the High Priest of Death, had been as badly affected as the frail old man wearing the High Cardinal's robes. Unfortunately, at least as far as Isak was concerned, the elderly cleric showed few signs of dying, at least by natural means. Echer was clearly burning himself out with magic; he'd most likely be dead in weeks, but Bern was being more careful.
'We might have to put up with him for the time being.' Isak took a deep breath and signalled the guards at the end of the corridor. 'It's time; I don't want them to wait any longer.'
The soldiers pulled open the doors as he reached them. As Isak entered the Great Hall, Lesarl on his heel, he was met by a gust of warm, smoky air and a buzz of voices that lessened as soon as he stepped inside. The place looked completely different: the walls were now adorned with banners of all colours, the crests of every Farlan suzerain, all dominated by a central flag three times the size of any other — Isak's crowned dragon. It was displayed behind the heavy ducal throne in the middle of the room, facing the enormous fire on the other side.
The throne was an oversized seat carved from a single enormous tree-trunk. The dark wood was highly polished, and the sides were thick enough to stop an axe. The raised back was taller than a standing man. Though there were symbols of the Gods and the Farlan set into the throne in silver, gold and jet, the overriding impression was of strength and size rather than splendour.
Isak took a moment to inspect the crowd as the assembled men turned to face him. In a ripple flowing towards the back of the room, the nobles sank to one knee, their sword-hilts raised up in front of their faces. The assorted priests bowed. It was a riot of colour: the Farlan loved ceremony and ritual, and the noblemen of all ages took great pleasure in sporting the very best of their finery on occasions like this. On his left were the assorted clerics of the Farlan, with the Synod placed closest to the vacant ducal throne. Opposite them, the Dukes of Merlat and Perlir took prime position.
Beside the Duke of Perlir there was a conspicuously empty seat, and Isak could see a few people squinting around, almost as if the deceased Duke Certinse was about to make a dramatic entrance. Count Vesna, dressed in full formal regalia, stood beside the throne itself. He had not moved an inch. The silver gorget bearing Isak's crest that Vesna wore over his armour indicated that he was one of Isak's personal guard, ceremonially, at least, and that excused him bowing.