by Tom Lloyd
When the display was over, Isak beckoned the man over and gave him a gold emin. He was overwhelmed by the hedge wizard’s thanks, which he shrugged off, a little embarrassed at having caused such an emotional scene. Tila raised an eyebrow at his generosity, but Isak just grinned. He had enjoyed the theatrics as much as any of the children there.
‘He taught me something. That’s worth a coin.’ Isak held his hands together and copied one of the wizard’s unintelligible phrases, and a pair of flame wings rose up into the air before dissipating. The girl smiled at the joy on his face, trying not to show the sudden sadness as she remembered he’d never been allowed this sort of fun before. Sometimes it was hard to remember the Krann was only just out of childhood, for all his size and power.
‘Come on, my Lord, we should be going back to the pavilion,’ she said finally. Isak was dining with the king in the royal box, in one of the two massive pavilions erected down either side of the jousting field.
‘Tigers first,’ he declared. ‘Emin said there would be a menagerie of animals, and I’m guessing it’ll be downwind of here. I’m seeing a tiger before I do anything more.’ He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze of brotherly affection. Tila could do nothing but laugh at the anticipation on his face as she trotted after him.
‘So, my Lord, do you still think your wager is safe? Emin pointed with his cigar to the knight taking the crowd’s applause. The young man shone in the sunlight as he wheeled his horse about, waving to the crowd. His visor was up and Isak could see the beaming face of a youth about his own age. As the new - and youngest-ever - champion of the Kingsguard, Emin had gifted the knight with a gold-inlaid suit of armour. The helm had been fashioned into the cherubic features of one of Karkarn’s Aspects, a boyish smile with one blood-red tear falling from his right eye, an image that was often used by the Harlequins for their masks.
‘He’s good, but he can’t have come up against a man of Count Vesna’s ability,’ answered Tila for her Lord.
She blushed as Emin smiled at her and asked, ‘You’ve seen much jousting, my lady?’
‘My brother lives for it, your Majesty.’
‘Then perhaps you would judge the next two men as they parade? Thank you, my dear. Lord Isak, while your most capable advisor prepares my next wager, perhaps we should peruse the crowd.’ He selected a sweetened prawn from the plate between them and nodded his head to the opposing pavilion. Isak followed the movement, his eye going straight to a group of people taking seats opposite them.
It was hard to stand out in a crowd of rich noblemen and women, but Herolen Jex had managed it. Dressed in red and white, he glided along the walkway ahead of five others. All eyes were on him. The tanned skin of a Western Islander had darkened further with a lifetime under the sun. Isak could easily imagine this man striding the deck of a ship: Jex walked as if he owned the pavilion and all those in it. His glittering smile swept down the rows of people, and they seemed to feel it touch their skin. A whole line of noblemen rippled around to meet his gaze, before lowering their eyes as if he were royalty. The man might have been an enemy, but Isak couldn’t help admiring Jex’s presence.
Isak glanced at Emin while this procession was going on. The king’s eyes were narrow and focused. He was smoking his cigar in his usual languid fashion, but he seemed oblivious to the smoke passing in front of his eyes. Isak looked back to the other pavilion: Jex seated - and looking directly at them. The pirate was sprawled over two seats, one arm running down the backrest and his boots resting on the one in front. It was causing significant discomfort to the man in front of him, but he didn’t appear to be objecting.
Jex matched stares with Isak and Emin, then slid his boots back on to the boards below. Leaning forward, he plucked a cigar from the hands of the hapless noble in front, sat back and began to puff away at it in mockery of the king. Emin gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, which Jex returned.
Isak just pointed to Count Vesna, preparing for his next joust, and made an obscene gesture at the pirate. Jex threw his head back and laughed loud enough to hush half of the pavilion, taking no notice of the curious looks he received.
Similarly, Isak ignored both the groan from behind him, and his political advisor poking a leather-shod toe into her Lord’s back.
They watched the jousting for much of the afternoon. The gathering opposite them was in a constant state of flux, but they soon noticed a pattern in the way Jex’s companions were moving about. The man just sat still and waited for reports to be collected and brought to him. When Vesna easily toppled his third and last opponent of the day, Jex affected a yawn and threw a coin on to the sand as the count dismounted to take his applause. The crowd hushed immediately - the whole city had heard of the coming duel.
Vesna pretended not to see the throw, idly discovering the coin at his feet a few seconds later. Both pavilions craned their heads forward as he bent to pick it up. The Farlan hero held it up to the light for a moment, them turned towards Isak and, with affected delight, held the silver piece up for his Lord to see.
The Krann raised a thumb in approval, knowing Vesna’s self-deprecating humour well enough, and the whole crowd began to laugh. Beaming from ear to ear, Vesna walked back to his page with a jaunty step made even more comical by the constraints of his armour.
The crowd laughed even harder, but Jex failed to join in.
CHAPTER 33
‘Isak, it’s time to decide.’ Tila couldn’t tell if he’d even heard her speak: the frown on his face was more pensive than angry.
Still Isak didn’t react. They had been talking endlessly about the Devoted major and his news, right into the early hours, and now it was the last day of Spring Fair and no one was convinced they knew what the right thing to do was. Isak wasn’t sure he trusted the earnest young major; there was too much he didn’t understand. And yet… And yet it was too obvious to be an ambush. Isak’s company might not be large, but his men were Ghosts and it would take more than a single regiment to overcome them, especially if they were already on their guard.
Then there was the added problem of Lord Bahl: he wouldn’t wait for his Chief Steward to come up with evidence; he would just attack. For all their power, the Devoted stood no chance against the Farlan Army.
And there was another worry: King Emin. Emin and that dangerous little smile of his - in some ways, that was the only reassurance Isak had. The Narkang king was clever, and he wanted the Farlan to know it. If he were Isak’s enemy, he would not have shown so much of himself. It was obvious there was more involved, but Emin had dropped enough hints for Isak to be sure his plans were suitably grand in scope, and needing Parian involvement, not enmity.
He sighed, deeply, and turned to Tila. ‘The red.’
Tila held up the red silk scarf that she’d bought the previous day, then knotted the white about Megenn’s reins. Vesna nudged his horse closer and she tied the red scarf about his arm, already clad in black-iron. The count had been permitted to wear his enchanted armour after the king had ruled that it was no less awkward than unensorcelled plate, and would not give him an unfair advantage. The count wondered if he also agreed so the expected finale would be all the more dramatic: the Lion of Anvee darkly glittering in the sun, facing the shining form of Emin’s champion, the youth nicknamed the Sun-bee because of his gold-plated armour. The contrast of misty black and glittering gold would certainly be good fare for the dozens of minstrels and storytellers out on the plain this day.
‘Are you sure?’ Carel looked far from happy at the decision.
‘We can ask the king for an escort, surely?’ This was a question Isak had wanted to avoid: he didn’t want the king to be privy to all his secrets, in case he had misjudged the man - the last thing he wanted was to leave open the opportunity to blame any ‘accident’ on the Knights of the Temples. Isak could see from Carel and Vesna’s reactions that he wasn’t the only one concerned about how much they were trusting the king.
‘From what I’ve found, the
Ivy Rings would be a bad place for an ambush, no matter how isolated. As for Emin, I think we can trust him, but who knows - there aren’t that many Farlan I can trust completely. “Knowledge is power” - Lesarl’s favourite phrase.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘And a wise man knows more than his closest friend.’
That’s true enough.’ Vesna gave the scarf a tug to check it was secure. ‘But you can take this too far sometimes.’
Isak looked down at the ground, refusing to look his bondsman in the eye.
‘Sometimes a man needs secrets. It doesn’t have to be because of a lack of trust.’
‘It seems to happen more often these days,’ said Carel. ‘Morghien, for one - you’ve said less than Mihn about him. What’s going on, Isak?’
‘Enough!’ he roared suddenly.
Tila flinched and looked away, but Carel didn’t even blink: Isak might be powerful now, rich even, but he was still the boy Carel had practically raised.
‘Not enough!’ he bellowed back. ‘Do you think yourself so wise now you can do everything alone? I’m not here to run your errands. If you expect me to be some meek little courtier then you can shove my title and Arugin up your arse.’
Isak didn’t reply, but clamped his jaws tightly shut.
Carel gave an exasperated snort and clouted the Krann round the head, ignoring the gasps from onlookers. ‘What’s wrong with you, boy? Is the magic rotting your brain, or has all this Saviour talk gone to your head?’
This time Isak gave a snarl and swatted Carel’s hand away, then reached out and grabbed a handful of his tunic and physically pulled him from his saddle. He brought Carel’s face up to his own.
Tila screamed and grabbed at the huge fist, but Isak shrugged her off without a glance.
‘Go on then.’ Carel croaked. ‘Hit me. Prove to the whole Land you’re nothing more than an animal. Perhaps I did waste my time on you. Maybe I should have given you to that mercenary on the road after all, rather than gift the Land another monster with more power than sense. You’re just one man, Isak. Whatever gifts you have, however big you are, you’re still just a man. You can’t fight a war alone - you’ll fail us all.’
Isak’s fist quivered as fury coursed through his body and the hot scent of rage filled his nostrils. Carel looked into his boy’s cold eyes and, for the first time, he felt a pang of fear. The white-eye’s face was flushed red and his lips were curled back in a snarl. Sparks danced from his tiny black pupils.
The only sound Carel could hear was the savage rush of Isak’s breathing as he struggled to speak. ‘Don’t fail me, boy.’ The words were little more than a whispered prayer, but they doused the fire instantly.
Isak jerked in shock, accidentally shaking Carel like a rag doll. He looked around at the others clustered around him, then, with a stunned expression on his face, he lowered Carel to the floor. He clung hard to the pommel of the saddle and bent low over Toramin’s neck, trembling uncontrollably. Carel reached a hand out to steady himself against the horse’s shoulder, panting as hard as Isak.
The Ghosts had formed a circle around them as soon as Isak started raising his voice, warding them from curious onlookers, but themselves were casting panicky looks at their commander and their Lord.
‘I’m sorry.’ Isak sounded as weak as a kitten, but human once more. Carel coughed, then reached out to Isak. Though he had no strength to squeeze Isak’s hand, his words were clear: ‘I know you are, lad.’
As Carel filled his lungs and breathed deeply, colour returned to his cheeks. He held on to Isak’s hand and looked up at him, worried. ‘But one day, my boy, it might go too far; you might not be able to pull back in time. If you want advisors who care about you and not your power, remember what that means. It might not be my place as a loyal subject to ask what puts that hunted look on your face, but as your friend, I’m going to, whether I can help or not. If you keep everything to yourself, it’ll drive you mad.’
Isak lifted his head, eyes filled with sadness. ‘I know, but Carel, I don’t understand it myself. As for explaining it to you, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I’m not even sure there is a beginning.’ He still looked shamefaced, but held up a hand to ward off further questions. ‘If we survive today, I promise I’ll tell you all I can. I owe you that, I know that, and much more.’
Carel looked at him for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. That’ll do, boy. I’ll be waiting.’ He reached out an arm and Isak helped him back on his horse.
Now Isak turned to the others. Tila was visibly shocked, as was Mistress Daran, who was ineffectually stroking the green silk sleeve of Tila’s dress, as much to soothe herself as her charge. Isak opened his mouth to speak, but the words went unsaid. What could he say? That it wouldn’t happen again - that he, a white-eye, would never lose his temper again? He tried to catch Tila’s eye, but her long hair hid her face.
Touching his heels to Toramin’s flank, Isak restarted their advance on the jousting arena. The sun spread thick golden warmth over the trampled grass. Plump cloud rode smoothly on the brisk wind as they raced over the Land. The plain was already crowded and a chorus of songs, shouting, cheers, jeers and laughter filled the air. The public galleries for the jousting were already full as people jostled for a better view. Clearly word of Tila’s bet had got around. Five hundred gold coins - emins or any other currency - was a fortune. The people of Narkang wanted to cheer their champion.
Isak watched as a group of children squabbled over a pair of makeshift lances. The two boys who won out each had a cape fixed about his shoulders. One wore black, the other yellow. They were just about to perch on the backs of the two who were being the horses when a smudge-faced little girl noticed the Farlan. She gave a shriek of excitement and in a matter of seconds, the column had grown a tail of wondering eyes and dirty faces, all marvelling not at Isak, but at Count Vesna, resplendent in his battle dress.
Isak tried to smile but couldn’t. He knew they were hanging back from him because they were scared of him, and he knew they had reason to be.
‘My Lord is well?’ the king enquired as Isak took his seat. As the previous day, the queen was absent and Count Antern filled the chair beside the king. To excuse her from the violence likely to follow, the queen had been forced to spend most of the fair secluded in her chambers, apparently suffering from a severe headache.
Isak gave a curt nod and the king pressed no further. His pale face told enough of a tale, enforced by the way Mihn was fussing around his master, pressing him to eat. At first Isak refused anything other than a mug of tea, but soon he started picking idly at the delicacies piled high on platters.
‘The count is well rested, I hope,’ Emin prompted, looking at Carel and Tila, both of whom looked as wan as their lord, but they both nodded firmly.
‘Most certainly, your Majesty,’ the young woman told him, adding sternly, ‘he will prove more than a match for Sir Bohv.’
As she spoke, the knight himself trotted out to greet the crowd. He was a particularly tall man, standing a good two inches over his Farlan opponent. He had a friendly, open face, and the wild excesses of his carrot hair were checked by the red-stained helm that matched his armour. Though the knight was a devout member of the Knights of the Temples, he remained an individual, in this case displaying a fine sense of humour. His colours were yellow and azure, but as an affectionate nod to both himself and his Order, Sir Bohv’s armour was painted bright red.
‘I hope so,’ the king chuckled. ‘If I’m to win this bet with Lord Isak, I’d hate for any man but my champion to claim victory over Count Vesna.’
‘After yesterday’s performance, your Majesty, I believe your Sunbee should try to be rather less ornamental.’
Emin laughed at the truth in her words. His champion had been a hair’s breadth from serious injury, too busy playing up to the crowd as he tilted against the knight with the Brotherhood tattoo.
‘But he is young, and such folly is understandable, wouldn’t you agree, Lord Isak?’
The Krann gru
nted; he’d been deep in his own thoughts. Emin’s smile sparked a flicker of irritation, but he suppressed the feeling and inclined his head to concede the point.
‘Unfortunately, the poor boy may find his follies catch up with him soon enough,’ continued the king. The twinkle in his eye could not fail to arouse Tila’s curiosity.
‘And what follies are these, your Majesty?’
‘I gather his celebrations lasted well into the evening yesterday -and now it appears he is expected to be wearing no fewer than three favours on his arm today, and that leaves him in a pretty pickle.’
Tila smiled at the notion, until she imagined Count Vesna riding out with three scarves on his arm. ‘Your Majesty seems most amused by a situation that cannot fail to distract his champion.’
‘It has to be a matter of some concern for him, that’s true - but then I realised there was a way to avoid this situation.’
‘Oh?’ Her smile fled.
The king smiled even more broadly. ‘Well, as my champion, I could solve matters easily by commanding him to honour the queen and ask for her favour.’
‘But the queen is not here,’ Tila faltered.
‘Exactly my problem,’ the king replied brightly. ‘So who could my champion legitimately ask, I wonder? As my representative, he would have to pick a lady of sufficient import, perhaps make it a gesture of goodwill-‘
‘Oh no, he can’t-You can’t…’
Emin clapped his hands together as if the thought had only just struck him. ‘But of course, a visiting dignitary! Ah, Lady Tila, that is a generous and wise offer.’
‘But Count Vesna already wears my favour. It would be unseemly for both men to-‘ Tila’s protestations wilted under Emin’s relentless smile. The glitter in his eyes showed how much he was enjoying himself. Even today, he had time for games.
‘I’m sure the count will understand - a gesture of friendship between nations, that’s all. And you would be saving three delicate young ladies from terrible heartbreak.’