The stormcaller

‘Well, Kerin, please explain yourself.' Lesarl's voice sounded cold, but his eyes laughed and danced. 'Our new Krann was in mortal danger, he not?'

‘Yes, Chief Steward.' Eyes downcast, Kerin felt the weight of the day’s events grow darker and heavier with every passing moment. 'I did not foresee Sir Dirass acting that way – we were far from friendly, but I didn't think he would disobey a direct order. Sir Dirass went for a cut to the groin, then Lord Isak began to bait him, insulting his family to get him angry. I think the Krann decided to kill him after that.’

‘And you're surprised?' Bahl's voice was quiet, restrained. Kerin had expected fury, but this disturbed him even more. 'The knight went for a killing blow; Lord Isak's a white-eye, you do remember that? What were you thinking to put him in a duel? You'd not have done that with any of the other white-eyes under your command.'

'I-' Kerin looked helpless, hardly able to explain a decision he himself didn't understand. His memory was dream-like, as though he was not completely sure he had even given the order. 'I thought Isak would keep his temper, I thought Sir Dirass would obey my orders-'

'I think the Swordmaster is showing his age,' Lesarl interrupted. 'Perhaps it is time I organised a quiet pension somewhere; some rich widow out in the country, maybe?'

'My mind is as sound as ever,' snapped Kerin. 'Dirass Certinse was always an impetuous man. Yes, he was desperate for his Eagle, but killing the Krann? He has – had – more sense than that.'

'Then why, my Swordmaster, is that exactly what he tried to do?' Still Bahl was not angry.

'I cannot say. He looked like a man possessed, but-'

'That,' said Lesarl firmly, 'is a theory you will refrain from advancing in any other company, unless you want to find yourself closeted away in a monastery for the rest of your life.'

Kerin was taken aback at the strength of Lesarl's reaction. 'I didn't

mean-'

'I don't care what you meant, or what you think. If I hear the slightest mention of malign influences affecting the decisions made out there today, I will hold you responsible for them.'

'Yes,' rumbled Bahl in a thoughtful way. 'That idea is a disturbing notion. It will be dissuaded. Let them dwell instead on the fact that he is a natural soldier. By the time he leads troops into battle, he will be able to match more than just one potential Swordmaster.' The old lord gestured towards the door. 'Thank you, Swordmaster. That is all.'

Unable to voice any of his many questions, Kerin bowed his head in acknowledgement, still a little stunned that the matter had been dealt with so swiftly. By the time he collected himself and made for the door, Bahl had already turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.

Bahl waited until he heard the door close behind Kerin, then pushed the papers away and looked over to his Chief Steward's expectant face-

'I will speak to the boy, remind him of the importance of retaining his composure, and not destroying valuable soldiers.'

'And what of Certinse's parents? When they hear of it, the suzerain will lodge a suit against Isak and the Swordmaster. Damn the boy, why couldn't he have killed someone rather less important? If he's desperate for blood there are plenty of criminals in the gaol.'

'Enough, Lesarl; his blood was up and the man tried to kill him. You can't expect less from a white-eye; I would have done the same. I'm more interested in why this happened at all. Kerin's too sensible to start this duel, and Sir Dirass was a grown man. Quite aside from the fact that he's fought with white-eyes before and must know their temper, the political problems it would bring alone would have stopped his hand.'

Bahl stared over his desk at the blank wall, deep in thought. Then he looked at Lesarl. 'Aracnan said there had been something wrong when he met the boy; you say the father demanded Isak be hanged last night, and now a intelligent man takes it upon himself to defy orders and attempt to kill him,' he said softly.

Aracnan's words the previous night came back to him. The boy's trouble, but now he is your trouble. He expected those words to come up rather often now.

'Well, speaking of problems,' Lesarl broke in, 'Cardinal Certinse has demanded an explanation. The arrogant bastard's already acting as though he were High Cardinal of Nartis. He informs me that he has written to both of his brothers to let them know about "this latest outrage". I don't know whether the man still thinks he can intimidate me, but I had hoped to put this problem with the Knights of the Temples behind us. Knight-Cardinal Certinse might use this as an excuse to come home, and perhaps bring a few of his men along for Protection. If that looks likely, I'd sooner have him killed before he crosses our border.'

‘I think you're getting ahead of yourself there.'

‘Well, you must admit it is a possibility. The Cardinal and Suzerain

Certinse I can probably shut up; the Knight-Cardinal is a different matter. What would you have me do there?'

Bahl sighed. 'Let's deal with Isak first. The Devoted are a problem for another day.'

CHAPTER 7

Quitin Amanas was a strange man. His family and friends all knew it, and it looked like the palace guardsman standing stiffly before his desk was well on the way to forming that same opinion. No doubt his reaction to Lord Bahl's summons was not quite what the man had expected, because Amanas was relieved rather than apprehensive. Though the new Krann had been in the palace barely a week and the city was still aflame with gossip about him, Amanas had been expecting this summons for a lot longer; he would be glad to finally meet the one at the root of all this excitement. Tell me, young man, what's the Krann like?'

The soldier blinked in surprise. 'He's- well, he's a white-eye. They're all pretty much the same, aren't they, sir?'

'But he's one of the Chosen, and that will make him different.' 'Still a white-eye, sir – quiet till you piss him off – ah, if you'll pardon the expression, sir. Killed a man on his first day; they say he did it like it was an everyday occurrence.' 'I'm sure there was more to it than that.'

'Oh, probably, sir,' the guardsman agreed quickly, rather patronisingly in Amanas's opinion, 'but that's all I've heard.'

'Tell me, do you know what I do?'

'You, sir? Well the library is where all the family trees are kept. I suppose you're needed to sort out his estates, now that he's a suzerain.’

Amanas wrinkled his nose, the guardsman smelled how soldiers always smelled: a damp scent of metal and ripe sweat-stained leather that the pristine white livery covering it could do nothing about-The longer the guardsman stood there, the more palpable it became – hardly his fault, of course, but still it made Amanas uncomfortable-Men of violence were unpredictable. He imagined it would be a small thing for the guardsman to draw the sword at his side and run him

through. No doubt as a soldier he had done it many times before. Once more would probably matter little at his day of judgement. It troubled Amanas to be confronted by such a person.

'I do keep the library, but I also produce the crests and colours for newly ennobled men, as well as personal emblems for men of good family when they come of age. No doubt you thought that was just a case of drawing a suitable creature to carry on your shield?'

The soldier shrugged, plainly confused by the whole situation. 'I won't deny that I've dreamed of a knighthood, like every man in the Guard, but I've never really thought about that part of it, how the crest would be drawn up.'

'Actually, it is a little more complicated than just "drawing something up". It requires a blend of magic and artistry. If you like, I could show you how. Give me your hand.'

At the mere mention of magic the guardsman recoiled from Amanas's outstretched hand.