Once past the tavern, Isak smiled slightly at the voices behind. It felt good to stir excitement in others. The wagon-brat had come a long way: now his presence in town was an event – he would be remembered wherever he drank or spent a night. The innkeepers would be able to say to customers, Til give you the best room in the inn, Lord Isak himself slept in it.' More curiously, people would care that
he had.
Up ahead, Isak saw that the road ended abruptly at a copse of trees standing at the centre of the town, where he would have expected a market square. The undergrowth had been cut back enough to allow passage and the councillor and captain went straight on in without pausing. Isak and Vesna exchanged glances. The trees were not densely packed – there was no cover for an ambush – so they followed their guides into the gloomy thicket. Isak could make out carved stones, sitting upright in the ground. They formed no apparent pattern, but were evenly spread – Isak could sense some echo there, a faint pres-ence lingering in the copse. He guessed that this was dedicated ground, probably a temple of sorts to an Aspect of Amavoq or Belarannar.
On the other side, no more than thirty yards away, they rejoined the street, now dominated by a large building, the smaller houses looking almost as if they were keeping a respectful distance. By the standards of Tirah's wealthy the building was modest, but it was a surprising sight in Ghorent.
The councillor stopped at the ornate door and turned to his charges. 'My Lord, I leave you in the capable hands of Ahden, the Seer's man.' He gestured to the emerging figure, a tall, gaunt man who appeared from the bright interior. He padded down the stone steps, hands piously clasped together.
The manservant looked rather less impressed with the Krann than the tavern folk had been. 'Lord Isak, welcome to Ghorent.' Ahden gave a small bow to the white-eye as he dismounted. 'My master is coming to greet you as I speak, but in the meantime might I offer you and your men food and wine?'
Isak made a show of stretching his back and shaking the stiffness from his broad shoulders. There was something about the staid figure with his thinning hair scraped carefully over his head that Isak didn't take to. When at last he deigned to give Ahden his attention, he was cut off by a voice from inside the house.
A second man burst through the door, gesticulating seemingly at random while he gabbled on in a high reedy voice, 'Lord Isak, at last you've arrived. Come inside, your rooms have been prepared. My grooms will see to the horses; we have much more important matters to discuss. My study will be suitable.'
The white-eye found his arm determinedly grasped by the scrawny hands of the man – presumably the Seer – who looked about to be engulfed by his billowing linen shirt.
Isak shot a bemused look to his companions. Few people outside his immediate circle of friends would dare touch the Krann, yet this odd little man was trying to escort him away like a child. Isak raised a hand to tell Mihn his presence was not required and allowed the Seer to drag him inside. As the man struggled to hurry Isak up, he launched lnto a discussion on the quality of horses they bred in Ghorent, happily providing both sides of the conversation.
The interior was markedly different to the houses in Tirah. Bright
swathes of colour adorned the walls and the high hallway was filled with all sorts of wicker birdcages, hanging from the ceiling, from wall
brackets and mounted on beautifully ornate carved stands. Isak slowed to marvel at the room and take a closer look at the nearest bird, a delicate green creature the length of his finger, crested with the most glorious golden plume.
As he neared it, the bird cocked its head towards him and sang out, a rich liquid warble. The hallway erupted into a cacophony of song as the other birds took their cue and Isak turned in a circle to watch the sudden riot of noise and exotic colours. Tila, hearing the commotion, came after Isak and stopped dead, beaming with delight.
'My chorus seems to have taken a shine to you, Lord Isak. They rarely sing at night. They say the creatures of the forest have astounding abilities of perception – interesting that they do not seem afraid of you, a white-eye no less. When an Alyne cat crept in one night, ah the chaos.'
'You keep them all caged?' asked Tila, seeing how small some of the cages were.
'Certainly not; they spend the day in the trees of the town. We're rather well known in these parts for our exotic birds. When the nights are cold we tempt them into cages of an evening; the tamest do not migrate at all now.' The Seer gave an expansive smile. His manservant glowered from the doorway as Vesna and Mistress Daran craned past him to see better. No doubt Ahden was the one who had to clean the cages.
'Did you know that the King of Narkang has a similar passion? He's
carefully cultivated his gardens to attract the migratory butterflies that go up the coast from Mustet to summer around Narkang. I hear it's quite a sight – the dusted blue is apparently most beautiful.' The Seer stopped abruptly and his brow furrowed. 'But this won't do, we must get on. Please excuse us, dear ladies, dear sirs. Ahden, bring up food and wine to my study when you have served the Lord's companions. He took hold of Isak's arm once more and led him up the wide stairway to a corridor, at the end of which stood a pair of tall decorative doors. The polished wood was a creamy coffee shade, intricately carved with a fantastical pattern of animals and trees, but Isak had no time to study the doors further as his host swept him on into the room.
Piles of books and scrolls were spread across the floor, while jumble brass instruments littered the many shelves, along with bits of pottery and odd stones, all broken and stained with age and dirt. A large open cabinet housed ancient-looking jewellery, and a few amulets and
charms. Isak could tell that they were of very modest magical strength – he recalled the scornful way the mages from the College of Magic had dismissed such things as 'low magics', suitable only for village wisewomen or forest witches.
The Seer flopped into a chair, only to bound up again as he compared his to the other chair in the room and considered Isak's bulk.
'How is it I've not heard of you when you seem to rule this region?' Isak blurted out as he took the seat offered and gingerly eased himself
into it.
The Seer smiled and sat opposite, suddenly calm. He bridged his fingers as he gazed deep into Isak's eyes. 'I certainly do not claim to rule anywhere; I merely offer advice – and only then when it is asked of me. As for having heard of me, well, I'm afraid it has been frequently observed that the Farlan do not take much interest in foreign politics unless conducted by a titled man. I would expect you have been told little more than that these lands are claimed by both Tor Milist and Helrect, but possessed by neither.'
Isak nodded, not offended: he understood the friendly sarcasm. The Farlan were one of the greatest powers in the Land, and they set great store by their traditions and their strong feudal system. A man of noble birth had power and status; anyone who won power would soon receive a title and thus become part of the system. Men such as the Seer were simply not accommodated.
'Let me begin very simply,' the strange old man continued. 'Historically, this region has been either self-governing or conquered and under the thumb of some neighbouring Lord. In the current climate it serves the purpose of both Tor Milist and Helrect to not actually take the territory – first because they would find it no easy task, and second because they would then share a border with long-standing enemies.' 'Can we start with you?' Isak interrupted. 'I don't even know your name.’
‘Me? Ah, of course! Forgive my rudeness. My name is Fedei, Wisten Fedei and folk here call me the Seer.'