1ike a blazing fire in the centre of the room; even with his back turned Isak would have felt the heat prickle on his skin. Abruptly, the man held out his hand. Isak stared at the huge fingers before him, blinking
if he'd never seen a hand before, then, shakily, he took Bahl's wrist and felt the massive hand close about his own.
'Isak. Not a name I'd have given a son of mine, but a man must make his own name in the end. I imagine the Gods will not hold your father's crude humour against you. Welcome, Isak.'
‘Th_ thank you my Lord,' was all Isak could manage. He was used to his name; he scarcely even remembered these days that Horman had named him Isak – Kasi backwards – to mock the Gods who had taken his beloved wife from him. Now, as Bahl gripped his forearm, Isak felt a sudden pressure behind his eyes. He could feel the immense presence of the Land beneath his feet, and the thump of his heart booming through his head. Then the memory of his dreams flooded back, coursing in a torrent through the contact. Isak's knees buckled under the weight, stars bursting in his vision before everything faded to black.
CHAPTER 4
He remembered the island, the feel of the scorching sun and chill marble… and the numbing terror. He remembered the chamber, the ranks of pillars supporting a bloated dome set with sparkling clusters of stars, and the sound of ringing steel and death; the shocking scarlet of blood. He remembered the dead man whose face now rose out of the shadows.
When Isak opened his eyes that same face was staring down at him, blank but unmistakable. The rest of the room was a buzzing distraction, nothing more. Obeying the burn in his throat, Isak gasped for air.
'Wha-'
'Be still,' said a calm voice beside him. Isak turned his head slightly to see a middle-aged man kneeling beside him. A green patchwork cloak and battered mail marked him as a ranger. Isak tried to raise his hand, but it felt like he was moving another person's limbs rather than his own. The ranger reached out to stay him a little longer, but Isak shrugged his hand off. With an effort, he forced himself to sit upright; he still felt undignified with his legs splayed out wide, but it was better than remaining flat on the floor like a fainting maid.
'You can stand?'
Isak nodded. He refused the offer of a hand from the ranger, pulling himself carefully upright. He was still shaking a little and tried to hide it by brushing the mud from his shirt. The man with Lord Bahl had a curl of a smile on his lips. Once he judged that Isak had regained his equilibrium he stepped forward, hands held out with palms up in greeting. 'I am Lesarl. I place myself at your service.'
Isak hardly heard the words; he was taking a better look at Lord Bahl, the man in his dreams. Under a snowy cape the gigantic white'
eye wore a misty-grey suit of armour and a broadsword strapped to, his back It was all Isak could do not to faint away again: his dreams, had always been vague, obscure – perhaps for his own sanity – but he, with terrible certainty that this was the face he'd always seen
blank and inhuman: now he knew why. Bahl's hood echoed the mooth expressionless features of statues of Nartis.
Shaking the feeling of strangeness from his head, he turned his attention to Lesarl. 'Are you useful for anything?'
Despite the snorts of laughter that crept from the corners of the room, Lesarl showed not a flicker of reaction. He had dealt with wits sharper than a white-eye's before. 'Your master finds tasks for me to perform from time to time. I am the Chief Steward.'
His words had the desired effect. Even as cut-off as the wagoners were, they all knew perfectly well that the Chief Steward ruled the Parian nation; if Isak had not been so dazed, he might have recognised Lesarl's name in time. The Chief Steward wielded complete authority, as he saw fit, in Lord Bahl's name, but this was balanced against an untidy death if Lord Bahl ever became displeased with his conduct. He was not a man to casually insult.
Isak nodded dumbly, not knowing how to apologise for his rudeness, but Lord Bahl passed over it. 'We can deal with who's who tomorrow. For now, you need sleep. You will have a room in the tower. Come.' The Lord of Storms didn't wait for a response, but turned to lead the way.
Isak tried to collect his wits. The aura that surrounded the huge man was almost tangible and his physical presence was breathtaking. Isak felt as if Bahl's powers, both temporal and physical, were radiating out, enveloping all those around him. Bahl stood over seven feet tall and was bulky for a Parian, but every step was graceful; he moved with purpose and efficiency. As Isak's head cleared, he remembered
that Bahl's armour was magical – though he couldn't see any runes inscribed on its surface, he knew they would be there somewhere.
Merely focusing on the misty surface of Bahl's cuirass seemed to, to thicken the air in his throat. Something deep inside Isak recognised hat metallic taste and craved more. Then his mind snapped back to what Lord Bahl had said. 'A room in the tower? I don’t understand, my Lord.’
Bahl stopped in his tracks. He turned back, shoulder shifting up: an instinctive movement. Thanks to Carel's training, Isak recognised that Bahl was ready to draw and strike if need be. Isak could almost see the massive broadsword appear in front of him and for a moment he wondered if he really had, but then the image faded.
'You don't know?'
'No, my Lord. My father said nothing. I thought I was going to be hanged.'
'Well then, allow me to explain,' Lesarl said with sardonic smile. 'We have a tradition here not to hang the new Krann when he joins the Chosen.'
Isak couldn't help himself as a string of expletives poured from his mouth, provoking peals of laughter from the Ghosts and breaking the tension in the room. Bahl narrowed his eyes and Isak hurriedly composed himself, though his head was spinning in confusion. This all felt more like a practical joke than divine edict. He was cold, tired, hurting, and more than a little aware that he was making a fool of himself. He had no idea what would happen next.
'Are you an adult?' Lord Bahl asked him suddenly.
Isak shook his head mutely, suddenly afraid that whatever was going on, his father could still ruin it. Herman could have declared his son an adult at fourteen and thrown him out, but instead he had insisted Isak was still a child and condemned him to another four years of near-slavery.
'Very well. Lesarl will have your father persuaded to make you my ward. That life is behind you now. Now you are Krann of the Farlan and Suzerain Anvee. There is little to come with that title other than Anvee itself and the estate of Malaoristen, but you do hold court rank. The rest can wait. I'm sure Lesarl will have papers for you to sign, but none of that matters for now.'
Isak stayed quiet, concentrating on not gawping like a dying fish as he worked the words through his head. Krann? Suzerain? That was only one step below a duke. Now he was too scared to comment, and torn between laughing at the absurdity and sinking back to the floor until life made sense again.
Everyone knew there had not been a Krann of the Farlan for two hundred years, not since Bahl himself was named heir to Lord Atro. It was something other tribes did; the Farlan had no need. His limbs trembled, as though the ground beneath him was shaking with indignation, or perhaps trepidation. Was there now a need? He'd never doubted that there was more to life than bales of cloth, but
a suzerainty? A court title? And money? Dukes and suzerains were
men of wealth and ancient family, people who held glittering balls for the equally wealthy and splendid – though it was true that Bahl, a white-eye and as remote as the Gods, was Duke of Tirah and foremost in all of the Parian lands.
Now the eyes of the Ghosts grew sharper. Isak saw men who'd bled for their tribe, who'd stepped over the corpses of their friends to fight On with no time to stop and mourn: men who must now answer to an untested youth. They could hardly be impressed with their new Krann thus far. He shuddered: he, who had never even been in a real fight, might soon be called upon to lead these battle-hardened men to war.