He lifted a goblet and drank, wiping the wine from his chin with the grimy white stripe around his cuff that marked him as a former Ghost. Suzerain Tehran's title had never stopped him earning every shred of trust he had been given, something Bahl wished he could say about more of the nobles who owed him allegiance.
'There's always a place at my table for such a loyal friend. With your son in the Guard, I expect you'll want to keep an eye on him.'
Tehran smiled in genuine gratitude and straightened himself up a little, a flicker of pride driving away his gloom for the moment.
'The Krann seems to have potential. Will he hold up in battle?'
Bahl shrugged. 'We shall see. He's got the strength and skill; if we keep the elven mages off his back then he should be fine.'
'And Shalstik?'
Bahl hesitated. He was far from certain in his own mind. 'By the Gods, I hope not, Kehed. If the elven houses have united under the Shalstik cult, we're in for years of war.'
'How likely is that?' Tehran asked, looking worried.
'Shalstik's prophecy of the last king's return has been a threat hanging over us for more than a thousand years; if that's the case, they'll fight to the bitter end to bring it about.' He grimaced. 'Our first defence has always been their inability to fight as a united group. We are still pretty sure the elves have ten noble houses constantly at each other's throats – I doubt any force we've met in the last hundred years has comprised warriors from more than two houses. I don't know if they have called a truce, but with an army large enough to destroy Lomin's cavalry…' His voice trailed off and he looked out of the window for a few moments before continuing, 'The dragon's mood had better remain good over the next few weeks. We may need him.' Kehed Tehran was one of the few who knew of the truth about Genedel. His private hunting grounds, a forest at the foot of the mountain north of Tirah, was patrolled by rangers and kept as an exclusive preserve, well stocked with enough livestock to feed the dragon. Some believed that Genedel was real, and lived on the very peak of one of the mountains, under their Lord's enchantment; others saw the beast as the embodiment of Nartis, aiding them in times of need. Lesarl hadn't needed to start these rumours; the people had beaten him to it themselves. Bahl found that a little sad, no matter how convenient.
'Fortunate we have a vampire to catch too!' Tehran's laugh was empty. 'Life gets harder for us all. Perhaps we should just get drunk and wait it out.'
Bahl smiled wearily. 'I accept. I'll tell Lesarl to find us some players, or acrobats maybe: someone to entertain us until we're too drunk to care. But first, there's something I must do while I still have my wits about me.'
As Bahl walked through the top floor of the palace, he noted the dry and lifeless atmosphere with a growing distaste. Few people came up here – the guest apartments for court-ranked nobles were on a lower floor. Neither fresh rushes on the floors nor the smell of beeswax did much to change the impression of a temple, deserted yet still full of
quiet reverence.
Bahl went first to Isak's chambers, then down to the library, where he paused at the entrance. He ran a hand lightly over the faded painting that covered the double doors: one of his more enlightened predecessors had been responsible for this picture, which still clearly showed his message to all who would follow him. It depicted a figure,
no doubt the Lord himself, sword sheathed and carrying only a handful of scrolls as he faced down an approaching army. It was a message Atro had never appreciated, for all his acquisitiveness; few white-eyes would.
As he had expected, Bahl found Tila within, a book lying forgotten in her lap as she stared out through the bay window. The library had once been a temple to the remaining Gods of the Upper Circle before a past Lord who valued learning over piety had converted it. Few recognised this room as the treasure trove it was: more than a thousand leather-bound books and dusty scrolls gathered together in a Land where fear of heresy, prophecy and magic meant academics had to work in secret and the history of the Land was hidden in legend and fable: truth buried in myth. With daemons and Aspects – local gods subordinate to a more powerful deity – part of everyday life for some men, knowledge and the written word were as powerful as they were dangerous.
A fire crackling in the wide hearth off to his left took the edge off the cool air. Even in the depths of winter, the library was a sanctuary, away from the crowded, noisy Great Hall. The Chief Steward, using a burning log from the constant fire in the Great Hall, lit the fire in the library first, as tradition dictated. The tradition predated Bahclass="underline" it was a symbolic act that Lesarl had determinedly retained.
Bahl crossed over to the fireplace and added more logs. The noise startled Tila and she jumped to her feet, sending the book clattering to the floor. She winced, knowing full well how expensive each volume was.
'My Lord-' she started, but he cut her off with a look, then dragged a heavy oak chair closer to the fire and indicated that she should do the same. He leaned in close to banish the dismal chill in his bones.
'We should talk,' he announced softly. Tila sat primly upright with her hands clamped together in her lap, waiting for him to continue, but Bahl took a minute to look her up and down first. The girl wore rather more jewellery than Lesarl usually permitted, but as most was religious, Bahl didn't comment. Unlike most Farlan, her eyes were light in colour, a soft hazel with flashes of yellow; eyes more suited to laughter than sorrow.
'You're close to my Krann.' No question, merely a statement of fact.
'Yes, my Lord. He… Lord Isak doesn't require much of me, only that I teach him all I can, of the wars of the Houses, the Age of Gods, any small story 1 might have told my niece before bed.' She wasn't sure what Lord Bahl wanted her to say. 'He leams quickly?'
'Oh yes! He is hungry to hear everything, 1 suppose because he never had a mother to-' She halted abruptly. Bahl's early life had been far harsher than Isak's; the entire palace knew that. 'He also questions the stories; he wants to know why things happen.' 'Give me an example.'
Tila thought a moment, her lips slightly pursed. 'Well, the punishments of the cursed. I'd never thought about why they were punished differently, but that interested Isak more than the punishments themselves. A couple of times last week he even corrected the priests – well, the ones who still go near him after what he did to Afger Wetlen.' She hesitated again, scared that she was saying too much, or sounding like a gossip – that could cost her Isak's friendship as well as
her position.
Bahl drew his cloak tighter around himself and gazed away at the shelves behind Tila's head. 'Yes, that was unexpected,' he murmured, almost to himself, before turning his attention back to the maid. 'No matter, it brings me to what I wish to say. Isak is special, and not just as my Krann. The Age of Fulfilment is a bad time to be special.'
Tila nodded, her head turning fractionally towards the bay window she'd been watching Isak from.
'A Lord is blessed beyond any other mortal, but the Gods are not nursemaids. They expect and demand unwavering loyalty. A Lord should love only his patron, because to love another is to have a point of weakness.' Bahl was speaking as much to the past, and giving the warning Ineh had never had. 'No matter what he whispers in the night, he cannot always protect you-'
'My Lord!' she protested, a scarlet flush in her cheeks. 'He's not-we've not…' She couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence before the Chosen of the Gods. Bahl was surprised, but she was telling the truth. No one could lie to him, not even hardened criminals or
politicians.
'So you're not that close yet – but is it just a matter of time! Tell
me, girl, and truthfully.'
'I-' Tila lowered her eyes to escape her Master's scrutiny. 'You have feelings for him? Foolish, very foolish.'