The people of Tirah cheered their army, and they cheered Isak at its head. Bahl was beside him, but Isak felt their eyes on his back long after he had trotted under the barbican gate. Flaming brands lit the thirty yards of dank stone tunnel, then the column emerged into the
familiar surrounds of the palace grounds, to be received formally by the entire staff and residents of the palace and barracks. Guardsmen and recruits, all in full dress uniform, stood in neat ranks off to the left, with the palace staff lined up on the right. Fearful wives and
children, still not knowing who had survived and who had died, huddled behind the ranks.
Swordmaster Kerin, standing before his men, saluted, beaming, as the troops clattered past to the sound of his men cheering. Even the noblemen and officials grouped beyond the palace staff added their voices to the tumultuous reception.
Bahl, having acknowledged his Swordmaster, ignored the rest and slipped from his horse as soon as he reached the steps. Lesarl had already broken away from the group of officials, a pair of clerks in his wake, and fell in with Bahl as he strode into the palace. It was left up to Isak to acknowledge the greeting, bestowing on each group a regal wave or a smile before he was able to dismount.
The Swordmaster took that as the signal to dismiss everyone and his curt order was echoed by the bellow of a sergeant-at-arms. The orderly lines melted back to their barracks and duties as a stream of weary knights trotted past and on to the stables on either side of the south gate.
Isak gave his horse one last pat on the neck and smiled at Kerin, who saluted him again as he passed, on his way to Sir Cerse. The colonel of the Ghosts turned with a smile as Kerin patted him on the shoulder, then Isak's attention wandered to the hundreds of reunions going on across the ground, with friends, families or lovers. A touch of sadness stirred in his belly as he watched some collapsing in tears, others laughing in relief.
He was about to head off to his chambers when he noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye, standing motionless in the teeming crowds. The man was staring straight at him, not moving a muscle, even as a woman behind him bewailed the loss of a husband. With a shout, Isak tore the mask from his face and sprang forward as the man broke into a broad smile and stepped forward to meet the bounding giant.
'Gods, boy, look at the size of you – I wasn't sure it was really you for a moment there!' exclaimed Carel as Isak reached him.
Not waiting for any formal greeting, Isak discarded his gauntlets and reached down to hug him. Carel was now significantly shorter than him. Isak lifted him off his feet with fierce affection.
'Aargh, put me down, you ox!' cried Carel as Isak squeezed the breath from his body. He took Isak's hand in his, feeling the hard muscle under his palms. Looking him up and down, Carel's expression was one of amazement. 'Isak, boy, you've grown near a foot since I last saw you – and if you fill that armour out the way it looks- Such a
change in half a year! Merciful Nartis, your hand feels like it's been carved from oak!'
'And you look smaller than ever,' Isak countered, grinning widely.
Count Vesna walked over from his own horse, a satisfied smile on his lips as he watched the reunion. It was the first time he'd seen the Krann like this.
'Hah, and I'm softer in my old age too. Don't hug me like that again, please, you might snap me in two. Don't think you'll be feeling the back of my hand any more now either – your skull was always over-thick even before you were Chosen. Gods, even now I can hardly believe I'm saying that. You, one of the Chosen-'
'I know, but you can save the jokes for later.'
'Those'll wait.' Carel stopped and reached up to grasp Isak by the shoulders. 'I'm not joking now, boy. I hope you realise the honour done to you.'
‘The honour of having half the Land after my blood?' Isak laughed at Carel's expression and stuck his tongue out at him in mock petulance. 'Oh don't scowl at me like that, I know what you mean. I'm just glad you're here. I was afraid that you'd have gone off on another trip.'
'No, with the attack on Lomin, work stopped dead. I wouldn't have gone anyway. I resigned my position; took work as bodyguard for a merchant. All you need's the white collar to do that without fear, and I knew you'd be needing my help sooner or later.'
Isak stopped and looked down at the ground, guiltily aware of the length of time since he'd seen his old friend. I’m sorry, I-'
Carel shut him up with a wave of the hand. 'Boy, I know your mind better than you do. I'd have been able to tell you on your first day that you'd start it off alone. And now I see you like this – oh Gods, I'm so proud of you. You've nothing to apologise for, nothing. You've settled in, and now you've realised you're in need of someone to clip your ear from time to time – took your time, but you got there in the end.'
Both men turned to Vesna as the count stifled a snort of laughter. Ahem, my apologies, Lord Isak.'
'Tsatach's balls! You're Count Vesna?' Carel grabbed the man's hand and continued, 'An honour to meet you, my Lord. Wait a moment-' He looked from Vesna to Isak, then another smile broke over his lined face. 'You took a bond of service, didn't you? Because of the College of Magic. You're from- Hah!' Carel suddenly laughed so hard the men behind him jumped in alarm. 'You're bonded to this great lump of wood?'
'I have that honour, sir,' replied Vesna smoothly, his eyes twinkling as he recognised a kindred spirit. 'But can I suggest we continue this conversation inside, away from the troops?'
'That's a good idea,' agreed Isak quickly, realising that the two were going to get on well, probably at his own expense. He draped an arm over Carel's shoulder and turned towards the main wing where hot food would be waiting. 'I see you're well, then.'
'As well as can be expected for a man who feels his age around all these boys.' Carel waved his hand towards the soldiers, unconsciously touching the white collar on his tunic as he looked at them. Only then did it occur to Isak that Carel was better dressed than Isak had ever seen him before. A fine coat of short black fur reached down to his knees, edged in pristine white fox fur. Under this were bleached soft leathers and a fine pair of high green boots, all of which seemed unusually foppish for the former Ghost.
'You've taken advantage of our hospitality then,' Isak remarked, touching a finger to the coat's edge.
'I've been here only a few days, but your maid has been looking after me – since you're the Krann, I thought I'd better get myself some new clothes; didn't want you to be ashamed of me.' Carel gestured towards the approaching figure of Tila.
'Welcome back, my Lord,' the girl said, curtseying neatly to Isak, then bobbing her head and adding, 'Count Vesna.'
'Have you two met before?' Isak asked, curious.
'No, my Lord,' Tila said, 'but the count's armour makes him easy to recognise, and of course his reputation precedes him.'
The count hesitated a second, then bowed low to kiss Tila's hand in formal greeting. 'My Lady.'
As Tila's face remained impassive, Isak remembered she wouldn't share a soldier's admiration of Vesna's reputation.
There was a frosty edge to her voice when she at last did speak. 'Your apartments have been readied, but unfortunately there has been some storm damage to one of the court apartments, and the other two are already allocated. I hope you will not mind using guest chambers instead. I have had your belongings delivered to the rooms beside Sergeant Carelfolden's, since you are both of Lord Isak's party.'
Isak gaped at the meek girl he had said goodbye to. The hostility was not open enough to be insulting, but it was obvious all the same. It was the first time he really saw her as a Farlan woman, taught from birth that her position would never be equal to that of a man. For the Chetse, that meant women held no opinions; they were docile, obedient and polite to their masters, never even raising their voices. The Farlan were different, for Farlan womenfolk turned weakness into strength in classic military manner: they ran everything from behind the scenes. It wasn't shaming for a man's peers to know his wife made the decisions, and girls with wit and fierce intelligence were well educated and keenly sought in marriage.