Ilumene pulled his own fleece-lined jacket closer as a chill seemed to rise from his bones. Aracnan had cast his own ill-humour and discomfort out into the wind to affect everyone in the square, and even though he was prepared, Ilumene felt a familiar growl of resentment. His thoughts went back to Narkang, to the king he'd once loved as a father, until he got a grip of himself and returned his attention to the crowd.
The change was immediate. Ilumene, a man well-schooled in anger, sensed the shift in mood before anyone else did. His eyes were drawn to a tall man on the left-hand side of the pressing crowd who reached out to grasp the bridle of the nearest horse. The rider saw him move and reacted first, kicking the man and sending him sprawling in the dirt. The crowd, instead of retreating, surged forward. The rider cried out for help, but the words were lost as voices on both sides were raised in a wordless paean of hatred.
The cavalry remembered their training and didn't fight into the crowd. They kept their line, content with hammering down with the butts of their spears at anyone within range. Blood sprayed and men screamed, falling to the ground before being trampled. Ilumene finally rose from his seat, his sword, still sheathed, in his hand as two squads of infantry ran around from behind the duchess's carriage.
The soldiers roared as they barrelled into the crowd, which actually moved forward to meet them before half a dozen or more beggars were smashed to the ground by soldiers' heavy shields. Ilumene tensed, his eyes on Haipar as she was pushed here and there, her arms raised to protect her child. The crowd's voice began to fail as the infantrymen drove them back, and Haipar ducked down in fear — until suddenly she was standing alone in front of the duchess's defenders.
Ilumene was already moving when a high scream cut the air. Everyone else paused, watching as three infantrymen turned towards the woman, their weapons raised. Haipar stood still, watch' ing her own death, while the child in her arms shrieked again.
The sound seemed to freeze everyone except Ilumene in their tracks, until the big man smashed his shoulder into the nearest soldier and knocked him to the ground. He saw a flicker of fear in the eyes of the next man as, moving with unnatural grace, he drew his sword, cut down into the soldier's knee and moved past. The face of the third infantryman was filled with fury as he lunged at Haipar with his spear-
— but Ilumene was there. He cut down into the shaft and let his momentum carry him forward into the man. He slashed upwards, catching the man across the face. He felt blood spatter on his cheek as the soldier fell. A small man was the first to react, charging forwards with shield and spear held close together. Ilumene turned away from the spear-point, letting his bulk take the impact of the shield, and then slammed his elbow into the man's neck, sending him sprawling. His sword was already rising to catch the next soldier's blow.
'Stop!' bellowed a voice behind him. 'Put your weapons up!'
The soldiers came to a halt as if their feet had just been nailed to the ground. Ilumene, his head moving constantly to keep his eyes on both sets of soldiers, kept moving until he'd reached Haipar's side. Then he lowered his sword and looked at the woman whose order had stopped the soldiers. The duchess, who was standing up in her open carriage, was a middle-aged woman with a proud face. Her fur-lined hood was pushed back to expose cheek reddened by the blustery wind. Her hair was held back by a ruby-studded circlet. At her side was, Ilumene supposed, the duke, although all he could make out was an anxious face, above which was a rather smaller circlet.
'No more killing,' the duchess continued in 'a slightly softer tone. Ilumene waited for the soldiers to put up their weapons before doing so himself. He glanced over at Haipar. The woman had sunk to her knees, her head bowed as though sobbing — or praying. Ilumene kept his face blank, hiding his disgust at what the woman had become. She'd forgotten all her abilities, her bravery, her strength. She was worthless now, except as a wet-nurse for his Master, and that would not be for much longer. After that, her survival would depend entirely on Azaer's appetite for cruelty.
Sheathing his sword, Ilumene nodded and, as if on cue, the child let out another wail. The heart-rending sound was enough to bring the duchess from her carriage. She was well-known to be childless, a situation the ignorant masses blamed fairly and squarely on her meek husband.
She was as tall and solid as Haipar had been when they first found her, but otherwise she could not have been more different. Her features were small, neat, and not a single sandy-brown hair was out of place. She wore earrings, spirals of gold encasing more rubies.
'What is your name?' she asked Ilumene as she pushed past her men.
'Kayel,' he replied hesitantly, casting a nervous look at the soldier who'd dismounted and taken up position at her side, 'Hener Kayel.'
'You're not a native of the Circle City, are you?'
'No, Canar Thrit,' he replied before remembering himself and adding belatedly, 'your Grace.' Bugger; stupid mistake to make when I'm trying to look humble. Maybe she'll think I'm overawed.
'You're a mercenary; signed, or looking for work?' Her manner was open, almost welcoming; clearly Ilumene had succeeded in his attempts to impress her.
He shrugged. 'Was working for some merchant, escorted him to the city. Supposed to be meeting him later to talk about more, your Grace.
'Good work, is it?'
Ilumene shrugged again and lowered his eyes, waiting for her to speak again. Good work, hah! You should have seen the flames of my last work!
'You look like you've seen your fair share of fighting,' the duchess said, looking at the rough scar on his cheek that ran to his mutilated ear.
Ilumene raised a hand to his ear and touched the scar. There were too many injuries on his forearms, even for a mercenary, but they were concealed by the long leather vambraces backed with steel links he wore — though in a moment of caprice he had wrapped twine haphazardly around the vambraces to remind him of the scars.
He shrugged, wearing a pained expression as he replied, 'Been on the wrong side of a few fights, your Grace. I'm in no hurry to see many more, but I reckon I'm big enough to frighten off thieves still'
'Are you a deserter?'
Ilumene shook his head and looked at the ground as he feigned shame. 'No regiment left to desert, Ma'am.'
'And yet you didn't fear to step in when you saw a child in danger — one I presume you don't know, from the way you're both dressed.' She looked at him musingly.
Ilumene gave a bob of the head; that was all most rulers needed in response to their questions.
The duchess turned to Haipar and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. A rumble of disapproval came from the soldier behind her, but she waved his concerns away. 'Fohl, you're such an old woman sometimes! It's perfectly obvious she's barely strong enough to stay standing by herself.' Gently she urged Haipar up and onto her feet again. 'Are you hurt?' she asked.
Haipar looked bewildered for a moment, her eyes darting between the duchess and Ilumene, then she shook her head.
'And your child?' Carefully, the duchess pushed aside the fold of cloth obscuring the baby's face. Ilumene felt his breath catch at the cherubic features of Azaer's mortal form. He looked up at the duchess and twisted his mouth into an enchanting smile. Ilumene, even a few feet away, could feel the arresting power of Azaer's gaze as the duchess looked deep into his shadow-clad eyes. He shivered as he remembered the first time he had done the same thing.
'I-' The duchess sounded stunned. 'Your child is beautiful.'