'Mihn has told me what he knows about Morghien, but perhaps you know more about what he wants with me?' He knew he sounded a little whiny, but he was a little fed up with being the object of everyone's interest.
Emin fixed his piercing blue eyes on the Krann for a moment, then nodded. 'Of course, though the whole story is too long to relate.' He picked up the scroll and waved it in Isak's direction. 'Can I assume you've read both of these?'
'Of course. They wouldn't have been given to me otherwise.' 'Good, that will save time. As for Morghien, after his experience with the Aspect Seliasei, he wandered the Land and picked up one or two more passengers, and one of those incidents led him to be taken on as acolyte to a minor mage. They went on an expedition, organised by a group of scholars who had become acquainted through a shared study of the Mage Verliq's works. The expedition was to the ruins of Castle Keriabral, Aryn Bwr's own fortress. It fell during the Great War, under somewhat mysterious circumstances. They were escorted by a half-legion of Knights of the Temples.'
'And what did they find? All the Seer told me was that Morghien was the only one who survived.'
Emin hesitated, hearing distant voices. 'Coran,' he asked, 'could you ask them to wait on the stair for a minute?'
The white-eye nodded and left, closing the door carefully behind him.
'It is something Morghien is unwilling to discuss,' Emin told Isak. 'It was five years before he felt able to share any of that experience with me. I hope you can understand that he would not like me to divulge such information freely.'
He paused for a moment. His face looked haunted. 'All you need to know is that two men survived to walk back to Embere. They would not talk about their experiences, other than to say that they had looked Azaer in the face, and heard his dreadful voice. One was
Morghien. The other was the son of one of the expedition's leaders, a talented young man named Cordein Malich-'
'Malich?' interrupted Isak and Mihn as one. The king nodded gravely.
'Malich. The young man who became the root of so many of your troubles. In exchange for his life, Malich made a pact of some sort.'
Isak sat up straight, a frown on his face. 'So who, or what, is Azaer?'
'Another mystery – and in my opinion, the most dangerous one. Among the members of this club are some of the finest minds around, academics and mages, but all we have discovered so far is that there is neither God nor daemon called Azaer. The last man who worked on the problem must have been getting somewhere, for Azaer decided to make an example of him. He was haunted by his own shadow and died, with his wife, in a locked room. I cannot and will not ask anyone else to face such a death again.
'Even so, it continues to snare others, victims of chance whose deaths serve no purpose that I can fathom beyond Azaer's own amusement.' The king leant forward on his desk as he spoke, his knuckles whitening.
Isak pointed to the book on the desk. 'According to Cardinal Disten, the man who wrote that book, Azaer was not really worshipped as such. Malich was a necromancer, he dealt with daemons. Cardinal Disten says he ifivoked Azaer's name as a warning, a threat to others.'
Isak felt a little foolish; Emin surely knew far more than he did, but he gave no sign of impatience.
'Then that in itself is instructive,' he said, contemplatively. 'Daemons require worship from their followers as Gods do. From what I can work out, Azaer encourages only fear, causing misery and pain whether his – its – name is mentioned or not. It's a subtler mind at work than a daemon, and I think perhaps, given how infrequently he acts, it is reasonable to say his power is weaker too, more suited to encouraging others along a certain path than creating the path itself. Azaer lives in the shadows-' He paused as Isak flinched, but the Krann said nothing.
After a moment Emin continued, but he was watching Isak carefully now. 'Azaer lives in the shadows, manipulating events, perhaps even thoughts, but why, we don't know. Those foolish few we've found worshipping Azaer have treated him as a daemon or a God, but generally it's been an individual, out for personal gain, rather than a huge group of people. My suspicion is that Azaer tolerates such a use as long as his name is associated with fear.'
'So what does he want with me?'
'The same as the Gods, the same as the Knights of the Temples, and probably the White Circle too. And right now I'm afraid we have more pressing concerns than even Azaer poses.' He raised a hand to ward off further questions and called out, 'Coran, bring them in please.'
Isak turned to the door as it opened to admit a group of men, varying in age. The white-eye took up position by the wall at Emin's desk. The first two men into the room were so engrossed in discussion they didn't even notice Isak, until a third gave a strangled squawk at the sight of him.
'Gentlemen, please come in and find yourselves a seat,' called Emin in a schoolmasterly tone. They turned to the king and collectively mumbled assent. From their clothes, Isak realised they were noblemen, but none of them looked at him with the suspicion he'd been greeted with at the baths.
'Lord Isak, may I introduce you to some friends of mine? The two elderly conversationalists at the front are Norimin Dele, Chief Librarian of the College of Magic, and Anversis Halis, my uncle. I'm not entirely sure why he's here, so we will ignore him for the time being, until he cannot keep himself from talking any longer and Coran throws him out.'
The librarian gave a throaty chuckle and patted his companion on the shoulder as Halis dismissed his nephew's words with an abrupt wave of the hand and sank into an armchair. From the glare Coran was giving Halis, it might be less of a joke than Emin was making out.
'Norimin, how goes your search for the Stigmata of the Last Battle?'
'Ah, well now!' the librarian exclaimed with enthusiasm, 'we have several interesting reports to follow up on – a young woman in Cholos has apparently had bouts of bleeding down the centre of her skull since the spring of last year. One of our friends has agreed to bring her to Narkang, so I hope to be able to bring her to the club and investigate matters further.'
'Excellent, I look forward to it. Please, take a seat. Next, Lord Isak, we have two rather more reputable men – in that they were founding members of the criminal organisation that so plagues this city. Sir Creyl, and Marshal Dorik of Tohl. Sir Creyl is also Commander of the Brotherhood.'
The two each gave a respectful bow and found chairs opposite the older men.
'And Counts Alscap, a long-time ally, and Antern, whom you have already met.'
These men bowed also. Antern positioned himself closest to King Emin, while the large, ruddy-faced Count Alscap was content to sit beside Isak and eye him suspiciously.
'Count Alscap is one of the newest members of our club and thus knows less of our activities than most,' the king added softly. 'I hope to persuade him that his influence could be better employed here than for further increasing his already impressive fortune.'
'Well, he's not convinced of that, and is in no rush to discover more – but he is in the king's debt and willing to be of what service he can,' Count Alscap said to Isak, his voice deep and rather abrasive.
'Well,' declared Emin, realising they were now all staring curiously at his guest, 'I hope my news will be sufficiently mundane for you, Count Alscap. Antern, Creyl and Dorik know this already, but for those of you who do not, you may have noticed that this year the Spring Fair is going to be the largest yet. Every tavern, inn and stable is already full; some enterprising spirits have even erected tents as temporary inns.'
He looked around the room. So far no one looked that interested. That in itself is not a problem,' he went on. 'However, it has come to my attention that there are more men coming in than have taken lodgings.'