'What other forces remain hidden, that I do not know. The Farlan Lord holds two Skulls, and the minstrel who commands this troop of players wears an Augury Chain around his neck.'
Beside her Doranei gave a splutter of alarm and cried, 'What? No!' before lowering his voice and whispering, 'Oh Gods, are you sure?'
'Certain,' she said. 'I saw it myself.'
'Do you know his name?'
'Rojak.'
Doranei cursed under his breath, his fingers clenched into fists. 'So it's true then.'
'What is true?' Zhia said, surprised. Now here was another piece of the puzzle, perhaps. 'You know this minstrel?'
Doranei's eyes drifted part her towards the stage, where a flutist was coaxing slow, mournful notes from his instrument. Zhia reached out and snapped her fingers in front of his face to gain his attention again.
'Doranei, listen to me! Do you know this minstrel? Is this why the king is here?'
Doranei shook his head. 'Not exactly; but we had hoped to…' His voice tailed off as he found himself turning back to the stage, then he wrenched himself back to his companions. 'I must inform the king immediately.'
'Not yet,' Zhia said firmly. She pointed to a tall man dressed in robes of green and gold emblazoned with a pair of bees fying upside-down
who had launched into the narrator's opening speech. The costume was finished off by a jester's cap. 'The performance is starting, and if you leave now, you will draw attention to yourself. One of the players was on the roof with a crossbow earlier. Would this Rojak's associ¬ates recognise you?' Doranei nodded, glaricing towards the curtained entrance with suspicion. Koezh saw the concern and shook his head.
'There is no one out there, not even a servant.'
He slumped a little in acquiescence. 'I can find the king at the interval, then. They will not kill him here.'
'Are you sure? It might be too tempting to ignore.'
'As sure as I can be,' Doranei said. He looked uncertain, trying to balance his own knowledge with what help Zhia might be able to provide. 'Their feud is a long-standing one,' he started, 'and just assassinating the king lacks…'
He floundered for a moment before Zhia interjected, 'The personal touch? The need a man has to drive in the knife himself?' She sighed. 'The centuries go by and folk do not change. I hope that if the time comes, your king will prove himself the better man and not hesitate. After all, I cannot have an opponent in Heartland who is prone to grandstanding – he will be a sore disappointment to me.'
Doranei nodded, but his attention was on the stage again, his face thunderous.
Interesting, Zhia thought, this Rojak has really got under the king's skin. I wonder what exactly did the minstrel do, and why? As that thought crossed her mind, she turned to follow Doranei's gaze. Now she ac¬knowledged both the colours and the cut of the narrator's clothes. So this play is merely to goad King Emin? That means they know he's here already. But what purpose does this all have?
Zhia forced her own eyes away from the stage and back to the conversation at hand. 'I shall have to tighten security in the city. We have so many strangers wandering the streets that it's only a matter of time before people start to die.' She looked at the two men facing her. Koezh wore a look of brotherly affection, a welcome change from the drawn, world-weary face he generally sported. Doranei appeared to be gripped with some sort of ghastly fascination as he looked from one sibling to the other.
'Please don't take offence,' Doranei began hesitantly. Zhia immedi-ately pouted, causing him to stammer as he continued, 'but, since you are only masquerading as a member ‹›l the, ah, the White Circle-'
'Why do I care?' Zhia finished for him.
Doranei nodded and bowed his head.
'We are cursed to care, my brother and I. The Gods saw to that in their final judgment. Do you know nothing of our history?'
'Little,' Doranei admitted. He looked around to check no one was paying them any attention, and lowered his voice even further. 'I know that you were turned into vampires, the undead. To stay alive you are forced to drain the life from others, and the touch of sunlight will set your skin aflame.'
'The youth of today, they live only for the moment.' Zhia gave a schoolmistressy click of the tongue. 'That was not the only curse bestowed that night – foresight I could not have expected from a God, yet one of them did realise that to be such a monster would drive a person mad, so to ensure every drop of horror was wrung from this punishment, the Gods decreed that we would not decline into madness, but that our sense would remain, and our wits would be untouched by either the passing of years or guilt over our deeds.' She could feel her fingers tighten as she thought of that gnawing guilt; it had been her constant companion down through the uncountable years.
She looked away from Doranei, not wanting to see the horror in his eyes as she continued, 'They wanted to make sure we would always understand the fear in a man's eyes as we drain his life, and that we would always be sickened with compassion for others. We will never become inured to this. Our people were punished for following us out of blind loyalty. In turn, we now feel the suffering of innocents, more strongly than you could ever imagine.'
'And my presence may only worsen the situation,' Koezh surmised.
'Exactly,' Zhia said wearily. 'Which is why I want you to leave.'
'Leave?'
'You and your Legion can do nothing to prevent this city descend¬ing into chaos. Anything you do will only fuel the fire.'
'So you would have me hang back and do nothing? Let the White Circle and the Knights of the Temples determine the course of the next Age?'
'Our time will come, but not yet.' Zhia rubbed her arm, where the tight-fitting silk clung uncomfortably in the heat. 'The best thing you could do is march south.'
Koezh cocked his head at her. 'You think Lord Slyrax is that much of a threat, even with such a great distance between him and the Menin homelands?'
'I do,' Zhia said with certainty. 'In the thousands of years since the Great War, has there ever been a warrior to match you? I doubt it myself, yet Kastan Styrax cut you down and took your armour as his prize. If there is any man in the entire Land who can conquer the Chetse and win the hearts of their warrior orders, I think it is Kastan Styrax.'
'And then he will not need fresh troops from the Ring of Fire,' Doranei finished. 'If he wins the loyalty of the Chetse, who knows how far his empire might stretch?'
'There might be no limits. If the city-states of the West descend into chaos, as they are threatening to do, they will be unprepared for the Chosen of the War God.'
'Narkang is ready, and the Farlan are even more powerful than the Chetse,' Doranei objected.
Koezh turned to the young man with an amused expression. 'Narkang is ready? Narkang was saved only by a stroke of fortune, so I hear. If the White Circle had taken the king and his city, your precious Three Cities would have quickly followed. As for the Farlan, years of unrest have weakened them, and now their greatest leader in a thousand years is dead. In Lord Bahl's place they have a young man said to have the fury of a storm running through his veins, bearing gifts so laden with power and the weight of history that even his own generals must be nervous.' Koezh leaned over Doranei and gave the younger man a cold smile. 'I would say your readiness could be improved a shade. At the very least, your king should conclude affairs in these parts and see to his own borders. Complacency is a foolish thing to die for.'
Zhia smiled as her brother gave Doranei a condescending pat on the shoulder and gestured towards the stage beyond. Now be quiet and watch the play. A little culture will do you good.'