The climate was harsh in winter, perversely changeable in what passed for summer. A little coal was being mined, but there were no deposits of gold or silver, nor even iron. The people were poor and defeated.
Ranulph had waited for his appointment, sure in the knowledge that he would be offered anything but the north. The King possessed a mind of astonishing cunning, and would never offer any general the true object of his desires.
Ranulph's mind swam on a sea of delicious pain ...
He had a spy in Jastey's household, and knew well that the Earl desired the west. Seventeen rich cities, scores of mines, seven ports, and a thriving commercial network. Together they created the perfect foundation for an assault on the King. Wealth to buy mercenaries, ships to ferry armies and keep them supplied.
Oh, how Ranulph had laughed when Jastey had been made High Sheriff of the Capital. Despite being a position of great influence, bringing immense wealth, it meant that Jastey was always at court and close to the King.
But Jastey's handsome face had worn a smile the following day, when Ranulph had been summoned to the palace. The memory brought a fresh spasm of agony. Ranulph had walked down the long aisle in the Chapel of the Blessed Blade, to where the King waited with his courtiers around him, Jastey at his right hand. Ranulph knelt before his sovereign, then gazed up into the dark, reptilian eyes.
'It is reported to me that you desire to govern the north, my good and dear friend,' said the King. 'Your services to the kingdom merit great rewards, and I can think of no greater reward than to bestow upon you that which you most desire. Rise, Baron Ranulph Gottasson, Earl of the North, Governor General of the Highlands.'
To his amazement Ranulph had managed a smile. It did not match the grin on Jastey's face. The west had gone to the King's new favourite, Estelm.
The feast which followed had been bitter hard for the new Baron. The King seated him next to Jastey, and that alone made the food taste of bile and ash."
'My congratulations, Ranulph,' said the Earl. 'I know we do not see eye to eye on many issues, but I would like you to know that I argued most strongly for you to be given the north. I thought it would perhaps ease the animosity between us.'
Ranulph looked into the man's dark eyes and saw the humour glinting there. 'Animosity, cousin?
Surely not. Friendly rivalry would be more apt, I believe?'
'Perhaps,' agreed Jastey. 'However, that should now be behind us. You have your own kingdom, as it were, while I must remain in the capital making laws, sitting in judgement, surrounded by clerics.
Ah, how I envy you!'
Ranulph smiled, and pictured sliding a red-hot dagger into Jastey's belly.
Returning to his town house he had walked into his library and stood gazing at the map stretched out on the far wall. The empire filled it, from ocean to ocean. Ranulph's mouth was dry, his hands trembling with suppressed tension. The skin of his back and buttocks was still tender, but he knew that he needed the release of the whip. Summoning a servant, he ordered him to fetch Koris.
The man's face paled. 'I am sorry, my lord, but Koris packed his belongings and left this morning.'
'Left? What do you mean left?'
The servant swallowed hard. 'He has taken up a new ... appointment... lord.'
The shock hit him like ice upon hot skin. Koris, whom he had trusted above all men, and loved better than any woman. And he knew, without a shred of doubt, where the boy's appointment had taken him.
Jastey!
Dismissing the servant, the Baron moved to the window, opening it wide and breathing in the cold night air.
'I don't want to go north, Ranulph. It's cold there - and there are no amusements.'
'We will not be going north, sweet bay.'
'But isn't that what you want?'
'Be patient and all mil be revealed.'
'You don't trust me!'
'Of course I trust you. Now don't sulk! I hate that.'
And he had explained his plans, talked of his dreams, secure in the knowledge that he was with the one person in all the empire who loved him.
Two nights later, bound, gagged and hooded, Koris had been carried down to the secret room below the town house. Ranulph had his arms tied to posts, his legs chained to the wall. Dismissing the soldiers who had brought him, he pulled the hood clear of the boy's beautiful face.
'Oh, Ranulph, please God, don't hurt me!'
The Baron drew his dagger and pushed the blade into a brazier of hot coals. 'While the blade heats,' he said softly, "we will talk of love and trust.'
Semi-conscious now, the Baron felt the terrible stabs of fire in his eye socket, lancing their way through the opiates in his blood. Koris had been allowed no opiates throughout that long, long night.
*
Kollarin the Finder was comfortably asleep between the two whores when he heard the frenzied hammering at the tavern door below his room. He yawned and stretched, his right arm touching the fleshy shoulder of the plump young woman on his right. She moaned softly and turned over. The slender girl to his left awoke. 'What is happening?' she asked, sleepily.
Kollarin sat up. The room was cold, the fire long dead. 'I don't know, but someone is anxious to get in,' he said. He heard the innkeeper tramping down the stairs, cursing as he moved.
'All right! all right, I'm coming, damn you!'
The sound of bolts being drawn back drifted up to the room and Kollarin heard his name mentioned.
Now it was his turn to curse. Clambering over the slender whore he grabbed his leggings and began to climb into them. Just then the door opened and a soldier entered.
'We need you, Finder,' said Captain Redgaer Kushir-bane. 'There has been an attack on the Citadel cells.'
The fat whore woke with a start and screamed. Kollarin's head was pounding. 'Be quiet, please!' he said, squeezing shut his eyes. 'My head is splitting.'
'Why is he here?' she asked, drawing the blanket over her large breasts. Kollarin smiled at this show of shyness. 'Employment, my pretty,' he said. 'This gentleman has come to offer me coin, with which to pay for your expert services. Now go back to sleep.' Kollarin continued to dress, pulling on a pair of brown leather boots over his green leggings. His shirt was of wool, dyed dark green, and over this he donned a sleeveless leather jerkin lined with fleece.
Moving past the captain, he descended the stairs. Two soldiers were idling there and the innkeeper was standing by, his expression cold.
'I must apologize,' said Kollarin, 'for the ruination of your rest, my friend. It appears there has been an emergency of some kind. I am sure the captain will reimburse you.'
'Fat chance of that,' snapped the innkeeper, walking to the door and holding it open.
Out in the street Redgaer started to explain, but Kollarin cut him short. 'No need for words, captain. Merely take me to the scene.'
They moved swiftly through the town up the short hill to the arched gateway where a corpse lay on the cold stone. Kollarin knelt beside the body, laying his right hand just above the gaping wound in the man's neck. 'This is not where it began,' he said, and rose to walk across the moonlit courtyard to the dungeon stairs. Here was a second corpse. Kollarin paused, laid his hand on the man's head, then walked on.