Isak raised an eyebrow at Vesna, but the count was not paying attention. His hand was creeping closer to his sword as the Lomin hurscals edged closer to the group.
It was up to Isak. 'Demand whatever in the name of the dark place you like,' he bellowed. The venom in his voice froze every man to the spot and rippled out through the air to reach the Ghosts camped all around Isak's tent. Hands reached instinctively for weapons as they caught sight of Certinse's hurscals and they immediately closed the respectful gap between men and generals. General Lahk was an emotionless bastard who'd sacrifice a division if he had to, but he'd kept them all alive time and time again for that precise reason. They trusted him as much as Lord Bahl and had no affection for the arrogance of household knights.
'The first man who draws a sword here, I'll call mutiny and run him through. That also goes for the first who tries to take my command, whatever his rank is,' Isak continued. Til answer to Lord Bahl for my actions, but no one else commands me.' He glared around at every man there. 'Now, does anyone wish to take issue with the plan?'
A moment of silence followed before Certinse opened his mouth again and blurted out, 'The enemy's numbers are too great. We'd have to cut our way through several legions to reach the trolls.'
'General Lahk, would you care to explain further?' Isak's voice was quiet and controlled; something Bahl had said to Isak had emerged from his memory: the eye of the storm is when men have time to fear the other side. Show your anger, and then don't use it further. They will expect it to return, and hesitate. One pause is all a soldier needs.
'Of course, my Lord. To the south will be the rest of the foot, the Palace Guard infantry at their fore and the rest of the light cavalry. The Ghosts and cavalry will advance, then falter at the sight of the enemy before retreating in a chaotic fashion. I would prefer to keep the Ghosts up with our group, but they are the only ones trained for this manoeuvre.'
'What manoeuvre?'
'Flee under orders. Our enemy likes nothing more than a running foe; their commanders will not be able to prevent a pursuit. There can
be no doubt of that. The fleeing men return to our line and reform – please trust me, Duke Certinse, I have seen to it personally that this will be done – and wait for the attack. The ground will become open enough for us to take the trolls without becoming surrounded.'
'But it means we are dividing our forces against superior numbers,' the duke said. 'That goes against one of the most basic principles of warfare.'
'And thus demonstrates Eraliave's assertion that all tenets of war are fluid and a good general must be able to adapt to the current situation,' finished Vesna. The duke glared at him, but obviously accepted that this was not the time for further argument.
'Indeed, Count Vesna,' the general said. 'Now, with your permis-sion, my Lord, I will give orders to the legion colonels.'
Isak gestured for Lahk to leave, even giving the general a nod of respect. It was hard for him not to smirk as the other men there did the same. Certinse had no choice but to follow suit, bound by the rules, laws and traditions of his class.
Suzerain Fordan then cleared his throat, his face a picture of innocent helpfulness. A pitcher of wine had not dimmed his intelligence: he could see that Certinse was about to leave and impose his own will on the execution of the plan. General Lahk was known for his utter obedience to authority; the last thing they needed now was for him to have to face down a superior.
'Duke Certinse, Lord Bahl wrote to me recently expressing a concern that soon the dukedom of Lomin might be without an heir, knowing how ill your beloved father was. Since this unhappy situation has now arisen, and we have so many of your peers at hand, this would seem the perfect opportunity to discuss a betrothal.'
The duke squirmed for a moment and then shrugged. He had the sense to know when he was out-manoeuvred and forced a smile at the craggy old man, who beamed in return. It was over an hour before the matter was settled: a magnificent dowry would accompany his marriage to Suzerain Nelbove's daughter. Nelbove was close to Tirah, and the suzerain knew he was suspected of treachery so he'd not risk angering Lord Bahl further.
With the evening's work done, the nobles retired to await the morning. 'Now then, my lady, don't you think you've spent long enough in here for one week?'
Tila flinched in her chair, hands reaching for the armrest to push herself up until she realised it was only Swordmaster Kerin standing before her. He grinned and eased himself down into the seat opposite, sighing with pleasure as he turned his attention to the fire. Tila had kept it banked up throughout the day; by Kerin's reaction she guessed it was bitterly cold outside now night had fallen. The Swordmaster was dressed in his formal uniform – as he had been every day since Lord Bahl's departure – and it didn't look nearly as warm as the leather and woollens he normally wore.
'I've spent quite a lot of time in here,' Tila admitted, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she inspected the Swordmaster, 'but I don't have any real duties until Lord Isak returns – and as you can see, I've quite a way to go yet.' She gestured at the books and scrolls on the walls with a weary smile.
'You intend to read them all?'
'I intend to read anything I think might be useful to Lord Isak.' She raised the book resting in her lap so Kerin could read the curling writing on its cover. 'A collection of prophecies about the Saviour.' She grimaced.
'Do you think-' Kerin began.
Tila cut him off. 'No, but there's been talk of all kinds since Lord Isak received his gifts. You must have heard the preachers out on the Palace Walk.'
'I've heard about them,' Kerin said, 'but I've got better things to do than listen to a bunch of unkempt madmen. Anyway, as Knight-Defender, I can't leave the palace until either Lord Bahl or a general relieves me of my duty; otherwise it's desertion of duty and that means a trip to the nearest tree and a quick drop.' They both smiled: the thought of Swordmaster Kerin even considering dereliction of duty was laughable.
'My men have been bringing back reports of all kinds of preachers throughout the city, and talking about the Saviour isn't their only favourite subject. There's been no trouble though; they're not rabble-rousers, just barking mad.'
Tila sniffed. 'You might find one of them to be a real holy man, then you'll be in trouble for dismissing them all as insane.'
'Oh Gods, they'd be worse!' Kerin exclaimed, leaning forward in
his seat to emphasise his point. 'As any man involved with keeping the peace will agree: merciful Gods, save us from the religious.' 'And what do you mean by that?'
'I mean I've seen how some who claim to be truly religious behave, and I tell you, Lady Tila, no creature of the Dark Place would ever turn on its own kind for such small reasons as these will. Religious foIk'11 burn or hang a man for smiling wrong.' Kerin wasn't smiling now. He sat gripping the armrests of his chair and glaring fiercely.
Tila thought better of trying to explain the difference between fanatics and the devout: some people had no interest in seeing one. 'Well then, if people are going to act that way it would be sensible to be prepared for it,' she said calmly. 'We should be able to recognise whatever dogma they're obeying.' She tapped the open page of the book. 'Have a read of this one and tell me what you think.'
She handed the book to Kerin who frowned as he scanned the lines of text. The prophecy she meant had come down on a stable-boy in Embere two hundred years ago; apparently no one, not even the scholar who had written this book, knew quite what to make of it. The Swordmaster's lips moved as he read – Tila recognised that amongst the palace's soldiers who'd come late to education – and his expression became graver at every sentence.