The Grave thief

'Those two are talking to Legion Chaplain Dare, and have been for the last twenty minutes. That bastard's personally hanged six of their comrades in the last few weeks, and yet there they are, making small-talk. I'd have cut him in half by now, but I'm a white-eye – we don't civilise easily.'

Mihn looked at him. 'You don't react in the same way to crisis the way normal folk do either. For everyone else, custom and protocol cushion the blow. It gives them time to accept and rationalise what has happened, and the greater the upheaval, the more easily they accept the established structure. It may not last for long, but it doesn't have to. What sets men apart from beasts is the ability to learn, to adapt.'

'And so they suddenly accept my blessing on their crusade?' Isak said, nonplussed.

'Tradition papers over the cracks in society. When an army leaves Tirah, it should do so under the flag or blessing of the Chosen. The zealots are too delighted with the growing size of their army to care about challenging tradition right now.'

Isak glared in disgust. 'Why should they care? They get to tyrannise those they think aren't sufficiently godly.' He pointed again, this time to the opposite corner of the square. 'Look: men in the uniform of the bloody Knights of the Temples, at least a division of them, and under a runesword standard big enough for a legion. The law hasn't changed overnight, Lord Bahl's edicts on the Devoted haven't disappeared, but today they're allowed to gather under arms because we're all dressed in our finest for a parade. It would be considered…' Isak hesitated, groping for the right word for a moment, 'it would be impolite to arrest them right now.' He shook his head. 'I'll never understand rich people.'

Before Mihn could reply, loud voices rang out over the hubbub and they looked up to see a procession of carriages clattering into the square. Six heralds dressed in a livery of white, blue and red rode ahead, standing in their stirrups and bellowing at the soldiers to clear a path. Each held a fluttering banner, like a suzerain's hurscal.

'Those banners have the snake of Nartis on,' Isak said, narrowing his eyes, 'but those knights don't look like penitents to me.'

'The Cardinal Paladins,' Mihn supplied, almost without thinking. 'I remember Chief Steward Lesarl talking about them; he was amused that the Synod had resurrected the regiment that once protected them. It's made up of devout knights, and the cream of the mercenaries they employ.'

He hesitated and lowered his voice. 'My Lord? Speaking of Lesarl- My Lord, where are your advisors? This is a ceremonial occasion, however false the sentiments, and-'

'They're busy,' Isak said abruptly, shutting his jaw with a snap. He stared off into the distance for a few heartbeats, then turned back. There was a rare look of concern on his face. 'I ordered them to stay away. The reason we came early was because I needed to think.'

'Do you wish me to-?' Mihn began before Isak waved the suggestion away.

'No, not at all. You don't disrupt my train of thought. If anything, you've helped. Did Xeliath not tell you about last night?'

Mihn looked down. 'I wasn't in much mood to listen, I'm afraid. I hadn't realised how draining the ritual was going to be. By the time Xeliath, ah, returned to herself, I was asleep.'

Isak put a hand on the small man's shoulder. 'Of course. I'll give you the brief version.' He rubbed a hand over his stubble and Mihn suddenly realised his mood was not just because of a poor night's sleep – and whatever was something bothering him was serious enough make his eyes look haunted. 'I pretty much grew up on a soldier's potted wisdom; you know that, right?'

Mihn nodded. 'Of course – but Carel's no fool, and it's not led you far wrong, has it?'

'Last time I asked him, the old bugger said he had nothing more to tell me.' Isak gave a sour laugh at the notion that there was nothing more for him to learn. 'He just repeated something he's said before to me, "if it's fear guiding your horse you're riding straight to the ivory gates" – but I guess I ignored it the first time he said it. I didn't think it applied to a white'eye. But now… now I realise it's the answer I've been looking for, the one I think you've been nudging me towards for weeks.'

'What was the news?' Mihn asked quietly, keeping an eye on the cardinal's carriages. They had stopped in the centre of the square. The cardinals would, of course, want to inspect their troops – and show they were in no great hurry for Isak's approval.

'Lord Styrax has moved north faster than we could have possibly imagined; he's taken Tor Salan and will be at the gates of the Circle City soon, in days perhaps. For years – years – I dreamed of Lord Bahl's death; and for the last few I always woke in the certainty that the same man would one day kill me. The man who's marching this way.'

'That means nothing,' Mihn protested. 'Whether the dreams are true or not, the Circle City is a long way from Tirah. It would take one order to have Tor Milist under your direct control, and that gives us miles of open ground to exploit our advantage: the cavalry. However good a warrior Lord Styrax is, he cannot win a battle all by himself- and the Farlan cavalry is the finest in the Land.'

'I agree, so isn't it ironic that I'm sending a chunk of my army chasing after him? This isn't something I can stop without inciting civil war, and if I don't give them support I'm throwing away valuable troops.'

Mihn looked puzzled. 'What are you saying?'

Isak pulled a rolled parchment from inside his tunic. 'This is Special Order Seven, one of Lesarl's pre-prepared contingency plans. You want to know where my advisors are? They're off enact' ing my orders. This order puts the Farlan nation into a state of war.'

'You're marching south?' Mihn gaped at him. 'But why?'

'Because I will have to, and that you know better than you're making out, my friend.' There was no accusation in Isak's expression, just a knowingness more suited to Carel's careworn face. 'You said a few weeks ago that I was haunted by prophecies and other forces that have shaped my life. You told me to accept and work around them, to turn them to purpose, just as I have tried to turn the zealotry of the cults to my gain, You know I can't continue to submit to fear, and if I let my dreams dictate my actions, I will die like Lord Bahl, alone and haunted – and faithful bondsman that you are, you're trying to prepare your own contingency plan.'

Mihn opened his mouth to argue but shut it again when he saw the look in Isak's eye. The Chosen of Nartis was in no mood to be contradicted, especially when he knew he was right.

'I will go south because I believe I must. My goal is not to meet Lord Styrax on the field but to buy enough time to get into Byora. Lesarl's agent Legana – well, former agent – she told me that Azaer's disciples are controlling the Duchess of Byora, that the next step of their plan will be enacted there.'

The white-eye paused and checked to see if the cardinals were close enough for his attention yet. He looked at Mihn once more and thumped his fist against his chest. Mihn felt the echo though the rune linking them.

'At the very thought of going I feel fear; a cold, tight band around my heart. That isn't something I'm used to and it terrifies me, but it also tells me Legana's right: Azaer knows I am a danger – I am strong enough to kills Gods, so a shadow would be no great feat. It has survived so far by being unknown, but now it is my enemy it must use the threat of Lord Styrax to ward me off.'

'It has underestimated a white-eye's aggression then,' Mihn muttered.