He prompted Aracnan. 'And?'
'And I was attacked, again and again – attacked in my sleep by some Yeetatchen witch, of all things. Whenever I neared the boy she came after me. I've been warding my mind ever since, but I think she only wanted to drive me away. I was out of the city by the time I heard about the Krann's gifts and realised what he was.'
'What would the Gods gift their Saviour with?' Vukotic wondered out loud. 'He's Farlan, so it would ultimately be Nartis's choice… so it would be an aggressive one, without thought to the consequences, but not whimsical. Amavoq would have given a dragon, no doubt, but not the Night Hunter.' He sighed. 'So. Siulents and Eolis are back in the Land.'
'My friend, you have too much time on your hands.' The mercenary chuckled. 'But you are, of course, quite correct.'
As he rose, slowly unfurling his body from the chair, the vampire wondered, as always, if Aracnan was a native of anywhere. His almost inhuman, hairless features were starkly different to Vukotic's own, and unchanged over the millennia. His ears, unadorned and unscarred, were prominent against the smooth lines of his skull, which added to the generally outlandish impression. He was not of any of the tribes of man, but neither was he similar to any of the warrior races created by the Gods.
Vukotic sighed to himself, remembering those poor creatures bred only for war and the part he had played in exterminating them: the feral Manee, the beautiful Angosteil whose shining faces had stirred the envy of the elves, and the bizarre, green-carapaced Voch. They had killed them all, and more besides, in ambushes, with terrible spells, unleashing unnatural plagues. The elves had been as vicious as their Gods; perhaps even more ruthless, because they understood hurt in a way immortals couldn't.
Vukotic's memories were interrupted by a sudden discordant clang-ing from the walls that got louder as more hands fell to the task of warning the city. He shrugged at Aracnan. 'It seems I must wait for whatever other news you have of the Land. The Menin's Lord Cytt demands my presence so he can prove his worth to the rest of his tribe.'
'As if there is anyone else in the Menin who has not accepted Lord Styrax's son as their future ruler,' Aracnan scoffed.
'Will you join me? Together we could deal with the man before he wastes his soldiers on the walls. I'm sure your reputation would be furthered by the death of Lord Cytt surrounded by his entire army.'
Aracnan laughed out loud and nodded his agreement. 'We both have reputations to further, do we not – in dark times, who knows what use they might be? After, we must make plans to leave in search of summer.'
'Leave the Forbidden Lands? Events have progressed that far?'
They have gone far enough that we must deal ourselves into the game, or be left behind.'
After they had left, the shadows slowly lengthened as the lamps died down. When a servant came to clear the cups and tend the fire, he was struck, suddenly, by the feeling that he was not alone. The room grew cold for a moment and he shivered as he looked around, but there was no one there and, feeling foolish, he dismissed it as an old man's fears.
Outside, on the blanketed plain beyond the city, two shapes moved silently over the snow.
CHAPTER 18
Isak paused outside Lord Bahl's tent and looked up at the eagle standard that battered at the wind as though trying to escape its bonds. Bright slashes of orange on the horizon cut through the clouds, while higher up, the sky was stained pink and purple, with twists of gilt' edged cloud overlaying the colours. It was an arresting sight, belying the drab day and biting cold.
He pushed back the hood of his heavy cape and felt the rushing breeze over his newly shorn scalp. He'd spent the whole day hiding from the chill; it seemed only fair that he embrace it for a moment before night asserted itself. Twilight was always Isak's favourite time: it wasn't to be trusted, it played tricks on the mind, and yet he loved it-General Lahk had informed Isak that he would be taking his evening meal with Lord Bahl – that meant something was going on, for he ate with his Lord more often than not, and neither required a summons to the other's company.
'Lord Isak,' called a voice behind him. Isak turned to see Sir Cerse approaching. 'Am I to have the pleasure of your company at supper too?'
It looked like Isak was right about the young colonel of the Palace Guard: he knew the man to be ambitious and politically minded, but he believed Sir Cerse could most likely be trusted. He was of minor gentry stock from Amah, as loyal a region as any. The significance of the dinner invitation had obviously not been lost on him: power lay within the lord of the Parian's inner circle, and he was being given the opportunity to show himself worthy.
'Among others, I suspect.' As he spoke, Suzerain Ked and Count Vesna appeared from different directions in the growing gloom, both wrapped against the cold in heavy, plain cloaks. They were alone, and
trying to draw as little attention as possible. Isak nodded to both, then entered the tent ahead of the other three men.
Inside Bahl and Suzerain Tori were already seated, while General Lahk stood over a steaming pot, ladling what smelled like venison stew into bowls. Isak stopped suddenly when he caught sight of a copper-haired woman standing to one side – the last thing he'd expected to see out here in the middle of nowhere was a strange and very beautiful woman. He ignored Sir Cerse's polite cough behind him and caught Bahl's eye, hoping the woman's presence would be explained.
Bahl couldn't fail to notice his Krann's interest. 'One of my Chief Steward's agents,' he said dismissively, 'bringing me information that does not concern you.'
Isak remembered Bahl's warning after the battle that there were some secrets he was not privy to. He nodded in acceptance and moved further in, allowing the others to enter.
'My lords, gentlemen,' Bahl greeted them once all four were inside and the hide flap fastened against the wind.
Isak caught the scuff of boots on grass outside: Ghosts, he guessed, loitering outside to prevent eavesdroppers.
'Please, make yourselves comfortable, for we have matters to discuss.'
There were stools enough for all while Bahl sat back in a campaign armchair, one that was easily folded for transport but strong enough to support his massive weight.
Isak took an overfilled bowl of stew and picked out a hard lump of bread, then sat himself on Bahl's left. The general paused, then found himself another stool, his face impassive, as usual. Isak hoped the others hadn't seen it as a deliberate slight – Bahl never gave anything away, so he'd wanted to be able to watch every other face there. He hadn't intended to be deliberately rude to the general. Vesna secured the place on Isak's other side.
'Sir Cerse, you may speak as a peer here,' Bahl said quietly, and the Colonel gave a nod of appreciation at the courtesy – as the only man there without court rank, he would otherwise have had to stay quiet unless directly addressed.
Bahl didn't waste time. 'The Malich affair is not quite over. You will all have noticed the failure of some to answer the call to battle, and the problems the cavalry have been having with the blood stocks. My authority still lacks the weight in some places that I would wish.'
'My Lord,' interrupted Ked carefully, 'I have had my best man watching the young wolf, but he reports nothing of this importance. Certinse left for Lomin today.'