'Gods! I'm not asking you to take Aracnan down.' Doranei shook his head firmly to emphasise the point though he was speaking loudly enough for her to hear him. 'Information will be our greatest weapon; information provided by someone with insight we cannot get elsewhere.'
– They would sense me if I spied on the duchess.
'Then let us find another way.' He paused. 'You do want revenge, don't you?'
Legana didn't reply. For herself she felt nothing, just the emptiness in her gut that had once been the divine touch of the Lady. But then she remembered that night in the temple; the brutality that had broken her body, and the sight of the Lady, skin flayed and scorched as she turned away from Aracnan.
– Why did she save me and not herself? Even if she couldn't save herself, why save me? Who gives up in a fight even if they're outmatched? Legana felt her hand tense at the memory of Fate's dying expression. The Goddess didn't think like that. The creed says we are her daughters, and a mother does not abandon her daughters.
– I want revenge. The image of Fate was clear and painful in her memory, the emerald green of the Lady's eyes shining out from the darkness of the grave.
– But not enough to abandon my sisters, she added, holding the slate out to Doranei for emphasis.
'Of course. I understand,' he told her. 'King Emin always spoke in fond terms of the Lady. If there is help Narkang can provide you, just ask.'
'Before all that,' Lell interrupted, 'I need to send a bird to Tirah. Lord Isak needs this information.'
– I will tell him.
'Can you reach him directly?'
She shrugged. Her divinity was so new to her that she hadn't had much chance to explore its potential; she'd been sleeping mostly, recovering her strength, not testing its limits. It was also risky -Lord Isak was also new to power, and he might react without thinking. The prospect made Legana's hands tremble, but she had made up her mind: her loyalty was to her cult and her sisters, but she had spent years fighting for the Lord of the Farlan, and she had respected Lord Bahl, and that meant she had to extend that to Bahl's heir. That in turn meant telling him to his face that she was no longer in his employ.
– I will find him, she wrote with crisp, certain strokes.
King Emin looked up at the massive man at his side: Coran, his bodyguard, was staring silently down at him, his face grave. Behind them Emin could hear the shutters rattle and shudder under a storm's assault.
'Well?' Emin turned in his seat to look at the white-eye. There were only two other men in the gentlemen's club, a retired captain of the Watch who was snoring softly in a corner, and Count Antern, who stood at the back of the room frowning down at a stack of reports. The king used the club as a front for various activities, and many of the members had been involved in those activities at one time or another. Coran would normally be happy to speak in front of either of those present.
Coran pushed up the left sleeve of his tunic. 'I'm going to cut that damn mage's balls off,' he said fiercely, and turned so King Emin could see the inner forearm.
'We can't blame Endine for his successes, can we?' Emin replied in a slightly forced way. It was clear to all that a weight had been lifted from him after his sundering, but the process had taken its toll.
Coran gave him an old-fashioned look as a trickle of blood ran down his fingers and dripped onto the carpet. T think I'll find a way.'
Emin peered at the bloodied skin. 'Just be glad he used the Brotherhood's shorthand, my friend! "Enemy sighted, Ilumene and others, purpose unknown, request orders",' he read aloud. 'Curious he doesn't specify what others – important enough to mention but not name.'
'Ilumene will be in charge, whoever else is there,' Coran growled, the reason for his dark mood now apparent. Ilumene had escaped him twice now, and Coran took such things to heart.
'No doubt, but I think it more likely Doranei has identified a new disciple, one we've yet to assign a shorthand symbol to.' Emin stood and looked at Count Antern on the other side of the room, who had looked up when Coran started speaking. He had heard the message.
'Antern, please fetch Sir Creyl and Morghien,' the king asked, and his first minister hurried away. Emin walked over and nudged the dozing man.
'Captain, time for you to go home to your wife,' Emin said gently.
The white-whiskered man twitched a few times before he opened one eye. 'Eh?'
'Bugger off home,' Coran said.
'Bugger off yourself,' the captain replied in a gravely voice. 'She don't want me there, not since Brandt died defending your palace.' His skin was creased like old, worn leather, and his white beard had grown rather patchily where there were scars. He was past sixty now, and losing the bulk that had kept him alive in many a street fight. When Coran didn't reply he gave a sigh and began to heave himself upright. The white-eye reached forward and took most of his weight until he was standing.
'I dreamed I was young again,' the captain complained to Emin, 'chasing a man through Queen's Square with all the gladness of youth.'
The king smiled. 'You were a growling old bear when we first met and I doubt it was any different twenty years before that.'
The captain laughed and began to walk stiffly towards the door. 'Hah – and you were the most arrogant man I ever met,' he said. He added softly, 'Still haven't come good on your promise though. I'll never forgive you if I don't live long enough to hear the shadow's dead.'
'I'll do my best, my friend,' Emin said as he watched him hobble out.
As the old officer passed them, Morghien and Sir Creyl, Commander of the Brotherhood, nodded respectfully. Once the door was shut, all was business again.
'Gentlemen, Doranei has sighted Ilumene in the Circle City,' King Emin announced. 'Suggestions?'
'Don't let anger get the better of you,' Sir Creyl said. He was a heavyset man dressed in the functional clothes of a hurscal. His arresting pale blue eyes had more than once been mistaken for white, though Creyl was a calm man who was entirely out of place on a battlefield.
'Thank you, the point has already been made.'
'What was the message?' Morghien asked, walking past Emin and settling himself into the chair just vacated by the captain. He stared at the fire, watching the flames dance in the occasional gusts of wind down the chimney.
Emin repeated it.
Since the ritual in the tower they had barely spoken. The wan-derer looked even more strung-out than usual. He had moved into one of the club's guestrooms and spent as much time in the Light Fingers as Doranei had before his latest mission. 'Another ruse?' Morghien said eventually.
'Bit close to playing the same trick twice, isn't it?'
'Double bluff, then. I wouldn't expect the shadow to be so stupid, and the bastard knows it.'
'We need to know how the information was come by,' Sir Creyl said. 'Last time it was thrown in our faces for their purposes. What if they have allowed Doranei to discover this?'
'The point stands either way,' Emin sighed. 'Come on; you've all thought about our next step; what are your suggestions?'
'Watch your own back yard,' Morghien said before the others could speak. 'If it's drawing your attention to the Circle City, then maybe it's got something planned for Narkang again.'
'Pah! The city's locked tighter than even the Brotherhood knows,' Count Antern said dismissively. 'The shadow wouldn't bother trying.'
'I trust Doranei,' Sir Creyl said slowly. 'He's watching for ruses; he's learned the lessons of Scree.'
'Your man's burned out,' Antern countered. 'There's no mention of Zhia Vukotic at all – and that's why he was sent there in the first place.'
'I trust him,' Creyl repeated, 'he knows what he's doing and he's not burned out. If Doranei has passed that message on, he came to this properly and this isn't a trap – unless the ruse is so fantastically clever every one of us would have been taken in.'