Isak stood tall and proud. He'd shaken off the slouch he'd adopted as a child to disguise his height and he looked more alive than he ever had. No longer would Isak have to skirt around society: now life would shape itself about his battle-hardened figure. It was more than the child Carel had first met could ever have dreamed of. Now, with an enchanted blade hanging casually at his hip, a dragon on his cloak and clad in magical armour, he would be the envy of every boy in the tribe.
As Carel's gaze paused on Eolis, Isak's head snapped around. The youth's face was suspicious for a fraction of a second, then he forced out a smile again. 'Enough of business; we need food and wine.' He ushered Carel and Vesna towards the Great Hall, where the men crowding around the roasting boar parted respectfully. Isak piled as much food as he could carry into his bowl, then directed Carel to the head table with a nod of his head.
Once they were all comfortable, he asked Carel, 'So what news do you have?'
Carel looked up from his food and hesitated for a moment, trying to read the Krann's face, but finding nothing, started, 'Well, Valo finally got around to marrying Faean, Jedah gave birth to a baby girl a day shy of midwinter-'
'That's not what I meant.'
'Well then, just ask. How can I guess whether you want to hear about Horman or not? You've been living with politicians for hair a year; you've grown one of their blank faces.'
Isak looked startled, then his more familiar expression of slight anxiety spread across his face.
'So, is he glad I'm gone?'
'What do you think?'
'I expect he misses having someone to bully. I expect he's got less to complain about, so he's drinking rather than talking.'
'Close enough to the truth there. But of course he misses you. You're still family, even if you can't stand each other. You've got your whole life ahead of you, and quite a life it'll be now. His ended when your mother died. Whatever he thinks of you, you were the last link to her. Many's the time I've got drunk with him and he's not said a word, just run that green ring around and around in his hand for hours.'
'Well, don't expect me to see him,' Isak growled.
'I don't.'
Isak looked surprised at Carel's easy acceptance. He snorted and slapped his palm on the table. 'You're surprised? My boy, you're not the only white-eye I've known, and I damn well know you better than any man alive. You're as proud as you are nasty sometimes. On top of that Horman, my friend as he still is, has done little to deserve your love.'
'Little?'
Carel waved a finger at him. 'He looked after you better than some I've heard of. Whatever else you say, and however begrudgingly it was given, you never went hungry. Deny that and I'll slap you so hard your armour will fall off. There were some all for giving you a child's portion at meals, instead of more than Valo could manage. Not one would have dared say that to your father.'
'Why not?'
‘Well, for a start, no one wanted to talk about you unless they had
to – they were your mother's folk, and a superstitious rabble, then and now. You look like your mother, and everyone knew what she meant to Horman; he took his loneliness and frustration out on you for that,
but he’d not have seen you starve, whatever words his temper might put in his mouth.’
‘Perhaps. But I'll be more alone than he ever was – at least he had someone once; he had a child, even if it was a white-eye.' And look what the loss did to him.'
Isak didn’t reply, but Carel could see from his clamped jaw that the boy understood more than he was going to admit. Before the
conversation could continue, Tila arrived with a second bowl of food for Isak.
Vesna rose at Tila's arrival, a smile on his lips, but Tila, feeling like he was mocking her, pointedly ignored him and sat down next to Carel, who waved a spoon in greeting. She had immediately warmed to the ageing soldier: there was a warm generosity about him, a feeling of dependability and reassurance, like a loving uncle, perhaps
– quite unlike the handsome charms of Count Vesna, whose glittering eyes were not exactly indecent, but they were most certainly predatory.
Tila wore a simple, warm dress, but with a glance and a smile Vesna managed to make her feel as though she were dressed fit for a summer ball. She had no intention of trusting a man like that. His face was too comely, his words too welcome, his presence too magnetic.
'My Lord, was the battle as much of a success as we have heard?' she asked, breaking her concentration away from Vesna.
'Was that really all of the Ghosts returning today?' Carel asked before Isak could finish his mouthful and reply to Tila's question. He sounded concerned; Carel had been a Ghost; he knew what a full complement looked like and was well able to guess their losses.
Vesna nodded. 'Near enough. Some stopped at their homesteads, but with those killed in battle and winter picking off the injured, we're almost four hundred down. Success? My Lady, it was, but at a high price. Still, Isak led well in his first battle and that's a good sign for the future.'
Isak said nothing – he still felt guilty whenever the battle was mentioned – but Carel took his silence as lamenting the dead. 'Don't think about the fallen, Isak,' he said. 'From what I hear, there would have been even more widows without you: Lord Bahl and the dragon broke the trolls, but they would have been too late if the Ghosts hadn't held
– and without you, they would have been overcome before Lord Bahl got there.'
Isak looked up and met his friend's gaze: Carel had never been adept at lying, nor had he ever made allowances for the feelings of an outcast. He had guessed what happened, and understood.
A sudden draft from the tower corridor heralded the Swordmaster's arrival. Kerin's grim face brightened when he breathed in the aroma that filled the Great Hall. The Swordmaster hadn't yet returned to his training leathers; under his coat was the dress uniform of the Ghosts,
including a heavily braided, double-breasted tunic of black linen woven with gold thread.
He secured a bowl of the stew from the huge cauldrons nestled inside the stone hearth of the great fire and a haunch of the spitted boar, then joined Isak and his friends. He came straight to the point. 'Lord Bahl has been filling me in. You can use magic now?'
Isak's heart sank. From the gleam in Kerin's eye, the Swordmaster had a whole host of new routines already devised. 'Barely,' he said quickly, 'nothing with any skill, just the most basic of energies, not real combat magic at all.'
Kerin smiled. 'Barely will do for me.'
'Magic?' asked Tila sharply. 'What do you mean by basic energies?'
'Do you know anything about magic?' Isak asked. He knew a little more of the subject than when he had left the palace.
'Only that white-eyes are different to wizards.'
The others had leaned forward slightly and Isak smiled. Few people really knew anything about magic – it was the preserve of a select few – but who could fail to be interested? 'Well, it's complicated, and I don't understand most of it myself. From what I've read, there are three types of magic, the basic energies – '
'Like creating lightning?' Vesna interrupted with boyish eagerness. Any man who had seen Bahl fight knew how destructive that could be.
'Yes,' Isak said, 'although I don't think it's exactly the same as real lightning, but we're the Chosen of Nartis so that's how this works. Creating fire is possible but takes more energy – Lord Chalat or his Krann would be able to do it more easily because of their patron.'
It's all the same energy, but different people turn it into different things, lightning, fire or whatever,' said Kerin, who had far more experience of his Lord's skills.