Emin had insisted they use the litters to go to the temples as a symbol of normal life for the rest of the city. It seemed to work, for the procession brought people out of their houses despite their fears and the risk of more fighting. Even with the dead at the palace – the Fysthrall soldiers who'd not died at the breach had fallen on their swords – there were hundreds of people still unaccounted for.
Fleeing mercenaries tried to hide in alleys and sewers, but Nar-kang's criminals, directed by the Brotherhood, had dealt with them, leaving corpses all over the city. Herolen Jex's body had not been among them so far, but King Emin was still hopeful.
The arrival of the relief troops, delayed for several hours by White Circle mages, had helped matters, but still there were too many questions unanswered. The first Emin had asked himself when walking in the corpse-strewn gardens with Isak: Why had this happened? Getting together a division of men, secretly, showed organisation and determination. There had to be a purpose behind attacking such a powerful nation, but too much didn't make sense. Emin concluded – because he could see no other explanation – that the massive effort had failed through bad luck.
Isak decided not to voice the opinion that sense might not have played too great a part; privately, he thought that prophecy might have supplanted practicality when the Fysthrall came to make their plans. Perhaps worse, prophecy itself had been supplanted – or more likely, perverted.
There was a commotion up ahead. Isak leaned out past his bearers to see what was happening.
Vesna, walking alongside, stepped away to get a better view. 'There's a carriage up ahead,' he reported.
'Can you see who's in it?'
A burst of magic shivered out from the direction of the carriage – nothing aggressive, but enough to announce a presence.
'A woman,' Vesna said. 'Her hood is hiding her face.'
Isak eased himself off the litter and set off without another word towards the tall black carriage blocking the road. He moved awkwardly to begin with, his muscles still feeling stiff and sore. Ahead he could see soldiers crowding around the coach, gesticulating to the driver and to the woman leaning out of the open door. A young lieutenant was crouching beside the king's litter, talking in an urgent voice, as Isak passed.
'A friend of yours?' Emin climbed out of his litter, pushed past the lieutenant and joined Isak.
'I think I met her yesterday, at the arena.'
'Really? Well then, her departure may be swifter than she hopes.'
'I doubt that; she's stronger than I am. She didn't fight at the palace though; she had her own reasons for being with the White Circle.'
A rare moment of surprise flashed across the king's face, but he asked nothing further as they made their way to the carriage. The guards fell back quickly, glad the problem was no longer theirs.
'Ostia.' Isak received a thin smile in reply, but Emin's flamboyant bow was received with much greater warmth.
Zhia Vukotic gave the king a coquettish smile from the shadows of her hood. When at last she spoke, her voice was rich and smooth, the rounding of her syllables sounding cultured, old. 'King Emin, it is a shame we've not met already. I have greatly admired the way you govern your city.'
'Yet you appear to be leaving it,' the king countered.
Zhia's smile widened further under the canopy of her silk hood, wide enough for Emin to see all he needed to recognise her.
'I would address you by your proper title, but I doubt you are currently using "Princess", so I hope you forgive the informality,' he added.
'Easily enough; such trappings are behind me now and the names I am called these days tend to be less than kind.'
'Lady, it was the will of the Gods to make you thus; in this company I shall certainly not cast slurs on one's nature.'
Isak gave a snort at the comparison but was ignored by both.
'Well, you were discreet in your living arrangements,' continued Emin. 'I had no idea you were in the city. If you admire my politics, then I am flattered. Your reputation precedes you.'
'As does yours. During the months of enduring the White Circle's childish games, I frequently wished we could have been introduced. I've not met an adequate Xeliache opponent for years – not one with a true understanding of strategy. Considering your rise to power, I think you would provide me with true diversion, for a time at least.'
'Xeliache?' Isak asked. The word sounded disturbingly familiar.
'Xeliache, the more accurate name for Heartland.' Emin didn't take his eyes off Zhia. 'It comes from the core runes Xeliath, meaning heart, and Eache, meaning the Land.'
The vampire smiled, something akin to desire in her eyes. Isak looked from one to the other, but they were oblivious to his presence, too caught up in the prospect of a challenging intellectual conflict. He
was glad. The connection between 'Xeliath' and 'Heart' had stunned him into dumb silence. He'd not suspected, but it made sense. The threads to his life connected – he should have already guessed this.
'My Lady, the next time we meet, we will find time for a game,' the king promised.
'And if we are leading opposing armies?'
'Would you really not have the time to spare?'
Zhia laughed, a seductive, velvety sound. 'My kind always have time to spare. Very well, your Majesty. When we meet again, we will play. I hope it will not find us enemies, though.'
'Can we be anything but? You can hardly have failed to notice the bees on my collar.'
'Indeed I did not. Nor did I overlook the fact that you made no effort to cover them and save me a small discomfort. As for an enmity, that depends on others. My family has no wish to take your crown, but we cannot speak for the whole Land.'
'Which others?'
'But of course, you'll not have heard,' Zhia purred.
Emin's eyes narrowed; he was fully aware of the advantage over him that she was enjoying.
Isak was barely listening now, until he realised the importance of Zhia Vukotic's news.
'1 hear the Temple of the Sun is in flames. The Menin have returned from the East and Lord Charr rushed out to offer battle. His army was slaughtered and there were too few soldiers left in Thotel to defend it. The city fell to the first attack. The Chetse have been conquered.' Zhia smiled at them both and pulled the carriage door closed again. 'Until we meet again, your Majesty, my Lord.' She inclined her head gracefully and tapped on the carriage partition.
CHAPTER 37
Ten days later, as sullen clouds lingered in the sky, the Farlan party made their way towards Llehden. The death of Lord Bahl had cut short their stay in Narkang, for time was now against them. The spectre of civil war was growing stronger every day Isak was absent from Tirah.
The group riding towards Llehden was much depleted. Three Ghosts too badly injured to ride had been left behind, and more than half of those who had saddled up that morning had injuries that promised to make the journey miserable.
Eight of their number had died in the battle, and their bodies had been cremated. After some debate, the funerary urns had been placed in the Temple of Nartis, on display beside Commander Brandt's tomb. None of the men had had much in the way of family, and the temple seemed to have become a memorial to the battle's dead. The Farlan were seen as the city's deliverers, and their dead were being treated with reverence by the population.
The light was strange, dull grey, more low autumn than spring. Half the day had already passed and the oncoming dusk was preying on Isak's mind. He'd been born this day, on Silvernight, eighteen summers ago. His mother had gone into labour as the light began to fade, and as Arian's sparkle etched every surface she had screamed her pain and fear to the uncaring night. The trees glowed ghostly silver, standing careless guard as her blood had flowed: the terrible haemorrhaging that came with the birth of a white-eye. Isak had been born coated in the life's blood of another. It was one death he felt the guilt for deep in his bones.