'Siblis?' barked Chalat. Isak felt a wave of anger radiate out from the Chetse Lord as he spoke the word,
'We know they have sent parties north to search for weapons. Perhaps they found allies instead. The elves could have created the weapon they needed. To kill you, Lord Chalat, would have been incredibly difficult, and hardly enough to win the war, since your generals are still there. But to control the commander and direct the war from both sides…' The general's voice trailed off, leaving the conclusions to be imagined.
Chalat clenched his fist furiously, the slabs of muscle in his arms showing a tracery of angry veins. By contrast, Bahl, resting his elbows on the table, was vaguely glum, lost in thought.
'Your point is a good one, Lahk,' Bahl said after a grim pause. '1 cannot think of a more likely reason. It makes me wonder what else the Siblis might have bargained for, and what price was asked in return.'
'Well, such things are beyond me. Charms, curses, enchantments, bugger them all. That's not how I've fought my wars,' Chalat growled loudly.
'But it seems you need a change of tactics.' Lesarl ignored the scowl he received. 'I know the man you should speak to.'
'Well, who is he?' snapped Chalat. 'Where is he? At your College of Magic?'
Lesarl smiled briefly. 'Unfortunately not, though I'm sure the Archmage will be more than willing to help you in whatever way he can – if you can manage to look less like a white-eye, because he rather despises your kind.'
Isak expected a bellow at that, but Chalat merely smiled. The white-eyes who reigned for a long time were obviously the ones who could control themselves.
'The true expert is rather closer to his subject matter. Invriss Fordal has been the authority on elven magic for decades now. I'm afraid he is considered rather eccentric, being one of the few who actually engages in expeditions into the Great Forest, but he is certainly the man to assist you. I'm sure the Duke of Lomin will be delighted to have you as his guest for as long as necessary.'
'Lomin. So if I were to grow bored and need something to kill-'
Then the Forest is sufficiently close, and I hear the Festival of Swords has been rather a dull event of late.'
'Hah. Still, I hear the Duke is a good man, at least-'
'Ah.' Lesarl's smile didn't waver for a moment. There I'm afraid we have bad news.'
Chalat snorted, he knew Lesarl's reputation as well as any Farlan. Turning to Bahl he found only a smile. The Chetse Lord threw up his hands in amused exasperation.
'Very well, no doubt you'll have a favour to ask of me, something small, very little effort… Just don't blame me if I end up giving the new duke a sound thrashing. I get bad-tempered when it's raining, and it always bloody rains here.'
Lesarl was unable to prevent a look of delight spreading across his face. 'Lord Chalat, I'm sure it would not even be mentioned.'
Bahl rose. 'Lesarl, arrange quarters for Lord Chalat; I'm sure Tirah can provide some entertainment for him so see to whatever he wishes. Isak, you have your own preparations to make. Take as many guardsmen as you need to carry your maid's wardrobe. Lesarl tells me that new chargers will arrive within the week. Until then I believe Kerin has some plans for you.'
The room rose as one, Mihn placing himself in Chalat's shadow as the Lord was led off. Chalat saw him do so and stopped suddenly, turning sharply to Bahl once again. 'I do have a request, Lord Bahl.'
Bahl raised an eyebrow.
'Mihn has some strange sense of honour; he insisted on becoming my bondsman. I'm too old for some pious shit trailing me around, but as your guards can testify, it would be a waste just to kill him.'
'What is the bond for? Luring Charr out?' Bahl glanced towards Isak. From what he had seen in the tunnel, Bahl had not expected Mihn to be the quiet unassuming figure he'd appeared as so far. What had been clear was that Mihn carried himself with enormous grace, even more so than Count Vesna who'd been trained as a duellist since he could hold a weapon.
'Exactly – not as if I liked the bastard anyway. But Mihn doesn't
think my opinion is important. I do know that he's got some future to
play out, though, and that it's not with me.'
'Well, we can hardly have a guest inconvenienced. I suggest the
bond be transferred to my Krann.' He turned to Mihn. 'Your language
skills could be valuable on his journey.'
He paused to allow the man to speak, but Mihn merely bowed
his head in acceptance. He hardly seemed to care, which made Bahl
curious. He'd have to ask Isak to learn what he could of Mihn's story before they went – only then did it occur to him to ask Isak whether he objected, but a look over the table brought a shrug of acceptance. Isak was about to speak to his new bondsman when Kerin appeared at his side. Rubbing his hands together in affected anticipation, the Swordmaster clapped them down on Isak's huge shoulders.
'Right, my Lord Krann, I have a new training regime for you. You'll be glad to hear I've had a pipe filled with lead for your sword, and a suit of armour commissioned specially for you. You're going to love it.'
Isak groaned and sank back down into his chair. Kerin laughed and gave the chair leg an ineffectual kick. 'Come on, boy, I'm your Lord for the next week, so jump to it.'
CHAPTER 22
A bright blanket of cloud hung over the city, somewhat lessening winter's sharp touch on the still air. Isak could hear the city beyond the walls as people took advantage of a lull in the bitter weather. Covered bridges and walkways kept the city alive in the depth of winter. Though there was little fresh food to be found on the stalls, the cold stores beneath the city meant the handful of enclosed markets still did a brisk trade. The crisp afternoon light would not last long and then the city would return to hibernation.
Isak, sprawled on the stone stair, let his practice blade clatter on to the bottom step and stared longingly over at Eolis. The weapon hung in its scabbard from a post nearby. Isak knew he was safe, but he just couldn't shake the need to have the sword at hand. His feelings were rather more ambiguous about his armour, left under guard in the Duke's Chapel. Siulents reeked of the last king, both his sorcery and his mind, and since the battle Isak had never quite been comfortable in it. Eolis was different: the sword was an extension of his body, the edge to his anger more than its instrument.
As the Krann sat panting, a group of guardsmen nursed their bruises and laughed with Kerin. The Swordmaster leant on a blunt-tipped spear and tugged a fleece around his shoulder. The rest, Ghosts in full plate armour, removed their peaked steel helms as they also caught their breath. The winter air ached in their lungs, but it was worthwhile for the beating they'd given Isak. Most had fresh dents in their armour, but Isak had definitely come off worst, and they'd all enjoyed themselves immensely.
‘So, my Lord, you're finally learning some balance,' commented Vesna from the sidelines. The count had refrained from taking part, but a pair of fencing blades dangled from his fingers for when Isak was exhausted.
Vesna looked at Mihn, standing firmly between Eolis and the rest of the world, who inclined his head in agreement. The small man had interrupted the exercise twice to correct Isak's movements. Vesna was beginning to wonder what the others of Charr's 'bait' had been like. Each correction had presented Isak with the best range of available strokes – but as far as Vesna knew, Mihn had used no weapon but his staff…
Before he could pursue the thought, Tila trotted down the stair, giving Vesna a courteous nod before crouching next to Isak and quietly asking, 'Did you hear what happened last night?'
'You mean Count Vilan? A terrible shame that,' Isak replied in a lazy drawl, leaning back against the stone steps. His chest seemed to heave up even further as his breastplate was pushed up by the angle of the steps. Grunting slightly, Isak raised himself up and shifted it into a more comfortable position.