'And to think Tila said I should split the two of you up,' Isak snapped. 'You'd both be bored to death if you didn't have each other to bitch about. I've half a mind to manacle the pair of you together.'
Horman raised his arm. The ruined stump was still bandaged. 'Thanks to you I'd be able to slip 'em easy enough,' he grumbled.
'How long must I stay in this room?' Xeliath demanded. Her head was uncovered, which was unusual. Normally she wore a scarf, draped to cover most of her damaged left side. 'I can be more use to you than keeping idiots company.'
Not even Lesarl had any idea how the volatile cardinals and priests would react when they found out Isak was harbouring a member of an enemy tribe, but neither of them were keen to find out. It was a fair bet that Xeliath wouldn't back down from any form of provocation; she was a white-eye, and needed no good reason to start a fight.
'I know you're bored,' Isak said in a placatory voice, perching on the end of his father's sofa so he could see them both, 'but it shouldn't be too much longer now. I want the investiture ceremony out of the way first – the Synod are troublesome enough at the moment, without knowing about you. Most of the suzerains will leave in a few days, and that'll help ease the pressure too. I don't want you to end up being dragged into the argument for as long as possible.'
'Let them complain,' Xeliath croaked. 'Their dreams will become nightmares.'
Isak, hearing the rasp in her voice, poured her a cup of pale tea, which she accepted gratefully. When he turned to offer his father a cup, Horman gave him a furious look and he gave up.
'Give it time,' he continued. 'By spring everything will have calmed down. Lesarl and I are going to deal with the priests – then you'll have no need to terrorise them.'
'A purge?' Horman said sharply. 'I brought you up better than to murder priests.'
'Why in the name of the Dark Place would you care about that?' Isak growled before silently cursing himself. Horman had aged a decade since Isak had been Chosen. He was a broken man now, his face pinched, his body frail, and when Isak looked at his father he felt an unfamiliar clash of pity and guilt – but even now, all it took was one look from his father, one sniping comment, to provoke him. Horman could stoke Isak's temper as quickly as he always had.
'Kill them both,' snarled Aryn Bwr in Isak's mind. 'Cut their throats and let the whining cease; snap her fingers and tear them from the Skull. They are nothing, they are dead weight around our neck.'
'Our neck?' Isak replied angrily in his mind, 'I think you forget yourself. At least they're alive, and even broken, they are greater than you.' Out loud he was only a little less vehement. 'Don't put words in my mouth, Father. You don't know me well enough for that, not any more.'
'You never gave a damn about the cults and that'll never change.'
Isak sighed. 'Perhaps not, but these days I can't ignore them. The path they're on leads only to civil war, they know as well as I do -and I can allow that to go only so far.' He pushed himself upright. 'I only came up here to see how you were faring. I see you're as happy as ever, so I'll leave you to your squabbles.'
He retreated, feeling the glower of two pairs of eyes on his back, even after he'd shut the door behind him. He kept walking until he'd turned the corner and was out of sight of the guards on the door, then he stopped and pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall for a few moments. He breathed deeply and tried to massage away the headache he could feel.
'This was easier when people were just trying to kill me,' he muttered. After a while he reluctantly straightened up and headed for the main stair, where he found Tila and his Chief Steward waiting for him.
'They are well, my Lord?' Tila asked as he reached them. Her face was a careful study of calmness. Lesarl's was quite the opposite: he looked as if he had a thousand thoughts running though his mind.
Isak grunted in response and glanced suspiciously at the door leading to the Great Hall. It was shut, with two of his personal guard stationed on either side, but still he felt a little trepidation. It had taken months of preparation, but now every suzerain in the nation was assembled on the other side of that door, with the exception of the two eldest, who had been unlikely to survive the journey to Tirah; their scions would stand in their place.
Isak's investiture was to be conducted by High Cardinal Echer, and the other three Farlan dukes would lead the people in swearing fealty to their new lord. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but now Isak wasn't so sure. Would the room be large enough to comfortably contain so many powerful men?
Isak's fears were, of course, Lesarl's delight: the most powerful men of the tribe, all together in the same city. That meant deals, alliances, even friendships. The vast majority of the Farlan's eco-nomic wealth was in the hands of the nobility, and most of them would be looking to make the most of this rare gathering. For weeks now, men and women from different retinues had been running in all directions while Lesarl, like a gleeful spider, sat at the centre of this vastly complex web, the recognised master at this clandestine game. He hadn't even bothered to hide from Isak how much he was enjoying all this.
'My Lord?' Tila's voice interrupted his thoughts.
'Both well enough to be bad-tempered,' Isak said, 'but for the moment that's all I can ask. My father is at last on the road to recovery, but that means he's back to being a bastard. Lesarl, you have somewhere for him once he's well enough to walk? Enjoying the comforts of the palace means acknowledging I'm Lord of the Farlan every day – he can cope with the pain of his injuries, but that's beyond him.'
'1 have a place in mind, my Lord; one of Suzerain Tehran's stud farms needs an overseer. It'll keep your father out of the way and protected, even if he doesn't want a bodyguard.'
'So let's hope he doesn't refuse just because I'm the one to offer
it-'
'Let me handle that, my Lord,' Lesarl said with a grin. 'I'm sure I can help him to make the right choice – you have more important concerns to deal with right now.'
'Are you prepared for this, Isak?' Tila interrupted – friend now, rather than political advisor. 'If you want a few minutes to yourself, the suzerains will wait.'
Isak smiled with more confidence than he felt. 'I'm ready, better we get it over with. I've been practising the spell to block sound all week, and Lesarl's going to be right beside me, so you don't have to worry.'
The ducal throne had been brought from its normal position in the audience chamber and placed in the Great Hall, the only room big enough to accommodate every Farlan suzerain, duke, synod member and city councillor, as well as the heads of the College of Magic. Without retainers, bodyguards or advisors, they numbered close to a hundred, with twenty identifiable factions in the mix. There were several that Isak needed to speak to privately, so Dermeness Chirialt, one of the few mages Isak was sure he could trust, had taught him a simple charm to enable that.
'And you are certain that you'll be able to sense Cardinal Certinse's emotions?' Lesarl pressed. The cardinal remained the only member of that immediate family at liberty -he was a powerful man, and there was no direct evidence of treachery – but Isak had devised an alternative to having the man assassinated, albeit one they both found distasteful.