'I-' Xeliath looked around suddenly, alarm flashing over her face. Isak looked too, but he could see nothing in the empty landscape – then he remembered this was just an image in his mind. He closed his eyes and reached out cautiously.
It was as if there were two Lands, laid one upon the other. He could feel his friends asleep around him under a canopy of trees, and the grass, fluttering out on the plain. He focused on the dream scene – and found the source of Xeliath's concern. A shadow swirled around them, like fingers of cloud drifting past the unseen sun. Isak recognised the sensation; it was what he'd felt on the battlements, at Suzerain Fordan's feast.
'I must leave,' Xeliath began, 'don't worry; I'll deal with whatever that is. Did Morghien give you letters for the King of Narkang?' Isak nodded, his mind still on the shadow.
'Give them to King Emin in private; he will explain in more detail-1 don't know him yet, but the King's mind shines as brightly as yours and he could be as important as you are. Shadows fear him. I will come to you again, when I can.' She hesitated, her confidence melting away as she stared up into eyes that mirrored her own.
Tentatively she drew herself closer, breathing in the scent of his body, and placed a tender kiss on his lips. Isak felt her tongue flicker against his own, and then she pulled back. She looked sad.
Isak saw her completely open and vulnerable. The scar on his chest burned with shame and lust. 'Wait,' he cried, feeling himself drifting awake, 'if I've broken your mind, then why are you still helping me?'
Now all he could see was the outline of her face against the starry sky. The melancholy in her voice was almost more than Isak could bear. 'Because it's what I am. It's all I have left.'
CHAPTER 26
The further south they travelled, the more winter lost its edge. Nights were cold, especially when they slept on board the riverboat, but the familiar bite of snow in the air was gone. The Parian felt summer on the horizon as they left the shadow of the mountains and crossed wide empty plains. Narkang lay to the south-west, but they had no intention of going near either Vanach, which had strict religious laws too easy to break unsuspectingly, or Tor Milist – no one knew what reception Isak might get there.
Instead, they travelled on the river that marked the border between Tor Milist and Scree for much of the way. There was a small risk of trouble, but their party was well able to deal with any problems they might encounter.
It was strange to wake without a mountain somewhere on the horizon, but the presence of the early morning sunshine more than compensated. The sight of thin wisps of cloud above, all edged in gold, brought a smile to Isak's lips. He began to remember the pleasure to be found out in the wilds. With the warm memory of Xeliath in his head and friends surrounding him, Isak found himself enjoying life more than ever. Only the lingering memory of what the dark-skinned girl had said troubled him, even though he had determined not to worry any more about it until he reached Narkang and the brightly shining King Emin. Still he couldn't quite shake off the feeling of unease.
As they skirted Tor Milist's official border, those they met reported that the civil war had started up again in earnest. Duke Vrerr had suffered two minor defeats already that year, though he had barely escaped with his life, it appeared the rumours of his death had been exaggerated. The duke had placed an enormous bounty on the head of the witch Lefema after her attempt on his life, but so far, no one
had claimed it. The peasants hated their Lord with a passion, for he was already appropriating people's crops – at this rate they would have nothing to store up for the winter.
And court gossip was passed on too: a Chetse mercenary was providing plenty of talk amongst the gentlefolk of Tor Milist, for he had apparently succeeded in cuckolding the notoriously jealous duke.
'I can believe that well enough,' Vesna commented as they relaxed in the common room of a dockside tavern they had graced with their presence.
'And why's that?' Tila's expression went unnoticed.
Vesna stared at his drink and scowled at the bitter aftertaste. 'Well, I went there as part of the negotiations over the last border raids, a famous name to distract the duke.'
Isak smiled. Vesna hadn't admitted to Tila all the reasons for being sent on such missions: no only did men tend to get distracted when the famous adulterer was around, but Vesna had been trained by the best poisoners in the Chief Steward's employ. Many negotiations had been swiftly resolved by the timely passing of an obstructive old man.
'I met the duchess only once, but she-' Now he caught sight of Tila's face. 'Ah, I mean- Well, you know what they say about the Chetse…' The count's brain caught up with his mouth and he shut up.
'No,' said Tila, innocently, 'what do they say?'
'I, er… they say-' He looked around the smiling faces and scowled. 'Oh leave me alone, I never went near the woman, despite her offers. She smelled so bad I couldn't bear being in the same room.'
Carel gave the downcast count a pat on the shoulder, but Vesna got up and headed for the door.
'I think it would probably be quicker to just ask him which women he has gone near,' Carel told Tila, a merciless grin on his face.
Tila could see why the count kept his first name from everyone, even his friends. 'And I think you should keep quiet, old man,' she snapped back. 'At least Count Vesna's trying to be respectable. You're the one encouraging him – not to mention throwing all your money at trollop barmaids.'
The laughter was less raucous now: the guardsmen filling most of the bar weren't going to risk enjoying themselves too much at their commander's expense. In any case, Tila had a treacherously good memory for those with a sweetheart at home and a local girl on their lap. Since she'd had to give in to Isak and use a normal saddle, Tila's tongue had been sharper than ever and the men trod carefully around her.
Carel snorted and turned away and Tila stormed off to join Mistress
Daran at a table away from the increasingly rowdy soldiers.
'So you're goin' south to the borderland from here, my Lord?' asked the barkeep hesitantly, taking advantage of the lull in conversation.
Isak turned to look at the man. Just for a moment his temper flared as he recalled all the inns like this he'd been excluded from in his old life. Then the memory of the shadow took over, and he grimaced at the thought that still his life was not his own.
The barkeep began to sweat as Isak glared at him, twisting a grimy cloth tighter and tighter around his pudgy hands. 'Do you normally let white-eyes in here?'
'I- Er, well, some o' tha mercenaries we get in these parts, it don't matter whether they're white-eye or no. Duke Vrerr pays for men who'll follow any orders and that al'ays bring scum – men as'll kill
you soon as look as you.'
'So you think I'm respectable enough for your establishment?'
'My Lord?' enquired Carel, sternly.
Isak kept the terrified barkeep frozen to the spot for a moment longer, then shook off his bad mood. He acknowledged Carel's admonishment and tossed a gold coin on to the bar.
'I'm sorry. Please, keep the beer coming. If you have brandy, then you look like you could do with one yourself.'
The man looked down at the coin with suspicion, then nodded and swept it cleanly into his apron pocket. 'Thank you, my Lord. Will you be wantin' a bottle yoursel'?' He was obviously still uncomfortable,
but gold was gold.
'Yes, thank you, and we are going south through the borderland, if that's what you call the disputed lands south of here – why? Have you