‘Are you threatening me, Arnoan?’ asked Tessaya sharply.
‘No, my Lord. But ordinary men and women respect us and believe in us. Put us aside and perhaps you will lose their support.’
Tessaya chuckled. ‘No one is putting Shamen aside and I believe in you as much as the next man,’ he said. ‘But you have a very short memory. I do not. I thank you and your Calling for the job you have done. It is now over. You are merely returning to your rightful position as spiritual leaders of the tribes. Power is not the province of the Shamen but of the Lords born to it.’
‘Pray that the Spirit will still support you, Lord Tessaya.’
‘I need no spirits. I need skill, tactics and courage in battle. Things I already possess. Tend to those who need you now, Arnoan, I will call you when I do. You may go.’
‘There are times when we all need the Spirit, my Lord. Do not turn your back or risk losing favour.’
‘You may go,’ repeated Tessaya, his eyes cold. He watched Arnoan walk from the inn, stance erect and proud, his head shaking in disbelief. Regretting the harshness of his words for a brief moment, Tessaya wondered whether he had made an enemy of the old man and whether it mattered if he had. He decided that, barring assassination, it did not. A short while later, he was delivering final words to his now mounted riders.
‘It is critical that I receive details of ours and enemy strengths, field positions, ability to move and supply other battles, consistency of supply lines and magical resistance. It is all in the briefing notes which I expect you all to learn in case of separation or loss. There is another thing. Make the point forcefully, with my authority, that any news of The Raven, General Darrick or this dread force must be communicated to me immediately, outside of normal messaging times.
‘I expect you to travel back here separately, carrying the same messages despatched with my first birds. You will also bring back birds from Lords Senedai and Taomi. I cannot risk a hold-up at this stage. Do you understand everything I’ve told you?’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Excellent.’ Tessaya nodded at each man. It was a mark of respect for courage and these men would almost certainly need that. He had toyed with the idea of sending them back through the pass and then north and south to the water crossings at the Bay of Gyernath and Triverne Inlet. But that would increase travel time by two days at least. It was time he did not have.
‘Ride with courage, ride with passion, ride for the Wesmen tribes. May the Spirit aid you.’ The last rang hollow in Tessaya’s mouth and he could imagine Arnoan’s expression had he heard those words.
‘My Lord.’ The riders turned their mounts and spurred them to the north-south trail where they split, three heading north for the College Cities, three south towards Blackthorne.
Tessaya turned and set about organising the fortification of Understone.
‘I have an idea,’ said Baron Blackthorne. Dawn had lit up the hillside on which his men had slept. Now its light probed the cave and overhang that had served as his command post. And with the light came a slow warming of the cold rock and a fresh, crisp scent that pervaded the old dampness of the cave. It would be a day clear of rain, something for which Blackthorne was very grateful.
Gresse turned to him. The older baron was still seated, the bruising of his concussion reaching down his forehead and temples, blackening one eye as if he wore a half mask. He looked pale beneath the discoloration, his eyes bloodshot and tired.
‘Will it stop this thudding in my head?’ he asked, his weakened voice, just slightly slurred, further evidence of his condition.
Blackthorne smiled. ‘No, I’m afraid not. But it could get us back into my town sooner.’
‘I could do with a proper bed,’ said Gresse. ‘I’m getting a little old for lying on rock floors.’
Baron Blackthorne scratched at his thick black beard and looked down at Gresse, feeling a surge of admiration for the older Baron he had quickly come to think of as his friend. Among the members of the Korina Trade Alliance, that shambolic body that did nothing but fuel the Baronial disputes it was supposed to mediate, he had been the only man who had seen the danger posed by the Wesmen. More than that, he had been the only man with the guts to speak out and the only man to believe in himself enough to ride to Balaia’s defence.
He had fought long and hard alongside his own and Blackthorne’s men, knowing that his lands were being plundered by short-sighted, greedy men like Baron Pontois. He had come within an ace of death as the Shamen’s black fire tore flesh from the bones of man and animal alike. His own horse had died beneath him, pitching him headlong into the rock that had been the cause of his injuries. But he was still alive and by the Gods, Blackthorne would see that he not only stayed that way but reclaimed his lands. All in the fullness of time.
‘We’re going to Gyernath, I take it?’ said Gresse.
‘Yes. The Wesmen will reach Blackthorne well ahead of us and we aren’t enough to lay siege or retake the town on our own. At Gyernath, we can brief the command and sail back to the Bay with reinforcements enough to cut their supply lines. And, with further detachments coming by foot and hoof, we could be back inside the walls of Blackthorne a week after arriving in Gyernath.’
‘Assuming the army at Gyernath agrees,’ said Gresse. Blackthorne looked at him askance.
‘My dear Gresse, I haven’t annexed the city for nothing,’ he said. ‘That army will do anything I say.’
‘I wish I could say I was surprised,’ said Gresse. ‘Gyernath has always given the appearance of being a free city.’
‘Oh it is,’ assured Blackthorne. ‘I have no authority within its borders.’
‘But . . .’ led Gresse, a smile creeping across his dark lips.
‘But travel isn’t necessarily secure . . . Gods, Gresse, don’t make me state the obvious.’
‘So, there are deals to be done.’
‘Of course. Like I said, I don’t run the council but I do have considerable sway in the trading community.’
‘I bloody knew it,’ said Gresse, respect overshadowing the irritation in his voice. ‘The KTA has consistently refused to censure your actions with Lord Arlen. It now becomes clear.’
‘My coffers are plentiful, if that’s what you mean. Or rather, they were. It depends a little on what the Wesmen have discovered.’ Blackthorne squatted down next to Gresse who shook his head, a smile playing about his lips.
‘I think I must be the only honest Baron left,’ he said.
Blackthorne chuckled and patted Gresse’s thigh with his left hand.
‘That class of Baron is extinct and, try as you might, you will never convince me you are actually its long-lost last member. My people have experienced your brand of honesty in Taranspike Pass on more than one occasion.’
‘It’s a treacherous place,’ said Gresse, his smile broadening.
‘Tell me you don’t levy any charge on passage to Korina via Taranspike.’
‘It’s not a blanket fee.’
‘Oh thank the Gods. Not everyone pays.’
‘It rather depends on allegiance and cargo.’ The older Baron shifted. ‘But don’t forget I provide security along the length of the pass.’
‘Pontois, no doubt, feels the burden of this non-blanket levy.’
‘His negotiations have left him a little short of a fair deal,’ agreed Gresse. ‘But if we ever get out of this mess, he’ll feel the burden of something far heavier than a few gold pennies.’
A soldier appeared at the overhang.
‘My Lord?’
‘Yes.’ Blackthorne picked himself to his feet and dusted himself down.
‘We are in readiness. We await your orders to march.’
‘Excellent,’ said Blackthorne. ‘Gresse, can you ride?’
‘I sit on my arse, not my head.’