The stormcaller tr-1

by Tom Lloyd

  'My Lord, I am reminded of another matter that you will wish to attend to immediately,' announced Lesarl. 'Might I suggest we retire to the top room?' Bahl turned enquiringly. The blank look on his steward's face seemed to answer his question.

  He turned back to his new Krann and said, 'Isak, you need to sleep more than you realise. Any questions you have can wait for later. I will wake you when it is time.'

  Without waiting for a reply, Bahl repeated his motions and the pair disappeared upwards in a sudden flurry. Isak found the chair behind him and sank down thankfully. The weight on his mind had drained his limbs of strength and he suddenly felt desperately tired. This wasn't what he'd imagined, but the presence of a bed was enough, and anything more than a rug on the ground was luxury.

  He turned to the desk, where he found a razor lying snug in a bone sheath, beside it a copper bowl, a water jug and a polished copper and glass mirror. Leaning forward, he caught his face in the mirror, a perfect reflection that sent a shiver of excitement through his body. It had been made with magic: there was no other way to produce such a smooth surface. It might have been a paltry extravagance for palace, but it still cheered Isak's spirits. His eyes drifted up to the single shelf above the desk. A few dusty books lay on it, all of them looking older than he was. Carel had taught him to read, but it had always been a chore rather than a pleasure, Scanning the titles – From Across the Sea, The Campaigns of Manayaz Vukotic, Duels of Words: the Founding of the College of Magic – Isak decided he was too tired to face any of them tonight, although the second one made him linger a moment, wondering why it was here in the first place. Manayaz Vukotic had died as the worst of traitors, for he had led his tribe against their patron God during the Great War, This act of heresy had condemned Vukotic himself to an eternity in the Dark Place, and his five children to be cursed with vampirism, Odd to have an account of his successes in the new Krann's quarters, no matter what lessons could be learned from them. Isak hadn't expected that sort of book to be readily available, even here. Perhaps it was a test of some kind, though to what end he couldn't fathom. With a sigh he looked back at the maid, this time seeing her properly. She was pretty, taller than he'd first thought, and with what looked to be a fine bosom under her thick robe.

  'What's your name?' he started.

  The girl gave a small shriek at the unexpected break in the silence. She stared round, looking horrified that Isak was capable of speech Isak wondered if some of Bahl's guests were a little less than friendly to the maids when left alone with them.

  The girl steadied herself, reassured perhaps by Isak's equally startled expression. She looked him over quickly, then said, 'Tila, my Lord, my name is Tila Introl. I am to be your personal maid.'

  Isak had no idea why he needed a personal maid, but she was pretty so he had no complaints. He looked around the room for a way to open conversation, prodding absentmindedly at the blood-stained bandage around his left hand. Then the books caught his eye once more.

  'Can you read?' he asked, nodding his head encouragingly towards the dusty tomes.

  'Of course, my Lord. My father has an extensive library.' She sounded a little surprised.

  'Your family has money?' he asked, bemused at the idea that his maid was highborn. No one else could afford any sort of library.

  'Yes, my Lord. My father is Anad Introl. He is Gatekeeper of the City, and a member of the city council.'

  'Does that mean I should have heard of him?' Isak asked.

  'No, my Lord,' she said with a worried expression. Isak forced a

  smile at her; he'd snapped because he was tired. Tila looked a little uncertain, but she returned it; Isak had always been able to elicit a mile from people, even his father sometimes, despite his unwilling-ness to like anything about his son. Carel said it was part of being a white-eye: after all, men had been willing to rush to their deaths at Lord Atro's command; Lord Bahl was considered withdrawn, practically a hermit, yet his presence was enough to command complete attention and obedience. Carel had told him that every white-eye he'd ever met, no matter how brutal, possessed some remarkable redeeming quality.

  Isak was pretty sure he could start to put people at ease by making them laugh, so Tila's hesitant smile gave him hope. The last thing he wanted was a maid who hated white-eyes.

  'It's traditional for the palace maids to come from the noble families,' Tila began hesitantly. 'Lord Atro initiated it as a hostage system so he could keep control of the nobility, but the tradition has continued. The rest of the palace has proper servants; we're only here in the main wing. Sometimes it feels more like a finishing school. Readying us for being married off.' She looked down at the bed. 'I'm sorry, my Lord. I've been chattering away; I'll finish here and get out of your way. We were all instructed to keep from wasting your time-'

  'You aren't in my way,' he replied quickly, 'and as for wasting my time, you probably have far more idea than I do about what I'm meant to do with it. I know what a Krann is, but not what will be expected of me. Can you tell me anything?'

  'No, my Lord, I'm sorry.' The girl shook her head. 'I was just woken to make your room ready; we weren't even told to expect you. I'm sorry it's dusty and bare in here, but Lord Bahl is the only one who can bring us up and he's been in the forest for weeks. There is a library, on the second floor; I could try to find you some lore books, I suppose.

  The Chief Steward will know but… well you don't want him to

  think you're in his pocket. The only other person is Lord Bahl; he was once Krann, but I wouldn't dare ask him.'

  Why not – does he beat the servants?' Isak asked, on more familiar ground now.

  ‘No my lord,' Tila replied quickly, 'Lord Bahl is good to us; he doesn't even notice us most of the time, which suits me fine. But you do hear stories-'

  'What sort of stories?' he said, annoyed at his own ignorance – even the maids knew more than he did.

  'Well-' she sounded a little dubious, as if unsure of how much she should say. Spreading gossip was dangerous, but if the new Krann was going to survive in the palace, he had to know.

  She took a breath and started, 'Stories about what he did to the last lord, to Lord Atro. I suppose it's romantic, to avenge the death of one's lover, but-'

  'But?'

  She looked disinclined to go further, wondering if she should even have started this conversation.

  'What sort of stories?' Isak pressed her. 'What happened? When?' Herman had banned all talk of white-eyes around Isak; though tales of blood and violence were a staple diet at the fireside, Isak had never been welcome. All this was completely new to him.

  'Surely you must know?' she started, but as she saw him stiffen, she quickly continued, 'They say that three entire streets were destroyed in the battle. It ended in Cornerstone Market and bits were found as far away as Myrenn Avenue. Atro was hacked apart, and they say that when they tried to gather all the pieces together to bury them, half of them were burnt.'

  'Is Myrenn Avenue far from the market?'

  Tila gaped. 'Far? It's more than two hundred paces! Two hundred paces – for pieces to fly through the air!'

  'Oh that's easy, I can do that.'

  A look of panic flashed over her face, but Isak smiled as she started back and she realised that he had been joking. Tila gave a hiss of exasperation at her own gullibility and opened her mouth to retort when the words died. Isak's own smile faltered as he realised she had checked herself, remembering her position in relation to his: she was a maid, noble-born or not, gossiping to the new Krann rather than attending to her duties. She pushed errant strands of hair back behind her ears as she turned back to the bed and tugged the sheet flat with a practised hand.

  Her tasks finished, Tila straightened her dress and then sat down on the floor facing into the dark circle there. She didn't seem to trust the magic that held it, though the platform was solid and secure. Isak looked at her, but now she kept her eyes lowered.

  'Do you want to go back down again?'


  she twitched at the sound of his voice, then forced herself to look at him. 'How, my Lord? Lord Bahl is the only one who can take us. The Chief Steward is still up there, so no doubt he will be down soon’

  'I can take you down,' Isak said brightly. 'I'm pretty sure I can do what he did. It didn't look that hard.'

  'Didn't look that hard?' Tila looked shocked. 'It's magic, so what's so simple about that?'

  Isak paused. When he'd entered the circle below and watched Bahl trigger the magic, it had looked simple; it had felt to him as if the tower had welcomed him with its secrets. How did you explain that without sounding like a madman? She would think he meant that the tower had spoken to him, but it wasn't that it was alive, not at all, just that he thought it was able to recognise someone like him. Isak hadn't felt as though he had been Chosen until the magic of the tower had treated him as such. He'd bluster the rest for a pretty face.

  'If you don't know anything about magic, then I can't really explain it to you.'

  'Well, I suppose you are white-eye. "Pretty sure" – what exactly does that mean?' She still sounded unconvinced.

  'Well, if it doesn't work we'll fall hundreds of feet and die – but I really think I know how to do it. Don't worry,' he added, with what sounded like entirely too much enthusiasm for her liking. Grabbing her arm he pulled her up and into the centre of the room. Tila yelped and tugged away, but Isak was so intent on what he was doing he didn't even notice her efforts.

  Closing his eyes, Isak visualised himself standing alone in the tower. As the dry scent of the air receded from his awareness, he felt only the warm presence of Tila's arm under his fingers. As he tried to focus, the warmth slid down his fingers until the tips became hot. Tila flinched slightly as he let go of her arm, but she had the sense to keep quiet rather than break his concentration. Then her presence faded from his awareness and he was left disembodied and alone. An image of the symbol drawn in the room below appeared in his

  mind.He felt the cylindrical tower, so still and strong about him, the air motionless on his skin while the wind outside tore upwards past windows and beyond the conical peak that pierced the clouds, symbol flexed gently as he focused on it, the outstretched wings flickering as the wind felt its call.

  Isak chanced a breath. Now he could see how to release the wind, to channel it through the symbol and into the chimney. He was sure he could control it, but he wanted to enjoy the sensation for a while first. The magic he'd sensed vaguely over the last few years was suddenly within reach and under his control; it set every nerve-ending aflame and made him want to laugh with delight. Finally he reached out to the symbol and gently took hold of it. At his touch, the symbol quivered, trembling as it held back the eager wind. He clasped it for a moment as an understanding of the magic in it poured into him, then he opened it, and a broad grin appeared on his lips as the first feathers flashed around his chest and down his spine.

  Then the air burst into life. Even with his eyes closed, Isak could feel the shadows dancing past, running questing fingers over his face and head. Tila moved closer to him, hiding in the lee of his large frame as the wind played through her hair and tugged at her clothes, The air grew dense, pressing the two of them together as the wind rushed and raged.

  With his eyes closed, Isak could feel their swift movement down until, with a jolt, they arrived at the bottom and the wind melted away to nothing. When Tila dared to look up, there was only the gloom of the lower chamber and the now-still chalk markings on the wall.

  Isak turned to look at her – suddenly aware of the closeness of her body from when she'd instinctively leaned towards him – but as he did so Tda took a smart step away and busied herself tidying her hair. Bobbing low in a curtsey she backed towards the door. Thank you, my Lord.'

  'Will you come to see me again?' As the words left his mouth Isak cursed himself for sounding stupid. There was something about her he found comforting – even when her pretty face was clenched in a mask of fear, it felt more welcoming than the blank looks that had greeted him in the dining hall.

  'Of course, my Lord. I am your personal maid,' she said. 'Your chambers and meals will be my responsibility.' At last she met his eyes, this time she looked at him as if he were human, not just some white-eye, which pleased him.

  'Oh. Well, good,' he said, finding his voice again. 'But that's n what I meant. I meant to talk. I don't know anyone here, or what Nartis's name I should be doing. Put me in the middle of a forest and

  I can survive, but this place is beyond me. I was never taught much in the way of history, or etiquette.'

  'Of course, my Lord,' Tila repeated, this time with sympathy on her ('I shall await you here tomorrow morning to fetch you to your, akfast. Lord Bahl would probably prefer you to eat in the Great Hall with the Ghosts, but if you need me before, just send someone to find me, Tila Introl, as I'm sure my Lord remembers.'

  'Yes of course, Tila Introl, daughter of the Gatekeeper. I, of course, am Isak – just Isak. My family name is Fershin, but like Lord Bahl I was never considered worthy of it.'

  Tila opened her mouth, no doubt to apologise, as most people instinctively did at hearing that, before closing it again – much to Isak's relief. The last thing he wanted was her pity.

  'But if what Lord Bahl told me is really true, I suppose my name is

  Suzerain Anvee now – but let's stick with Isak, shall we?' He smiled

  at the notion and saw relief on her face as she curtsied and scurried

  away back to her bed. '

  As soon as the door shut behind her, whatever he could sense under his feet forced itself into his thoughts and drove all else away. His gaze drifted down to the circle he was standing on. The urge to let his eyelids drift shut grew overpowering as the winged symbol appeared in his mind. As he reached for it, Isak felt a presence beside him. Alarmed, he opened his eyes, but saw nothing until he looked up and realisation dawned at last. He closed his eyes and felt himself in the still tower with the wind rushing all about, but this time he was not alone: there was another with him, one who drew the wind to himself.

  Don't you think you've gone far enough tonight? Bahl's voice in his head felt strangely natural, and Isak smiled and nodded, as if the Lord could see him. Maybe he could. There was an edge to the voice which urged caution: down was obviously as large a step as Bahl had said it was. Whatever was calling him from down there wasn't alone.

  Isak's curiosity was piqued, but he could tell there was no hurry.

  There was a taste of envy in the tower now – whatever was waiting for Isak would not accept Lord Bahl, and the man knew it.Sleep now. Tomorrow will bring challenges enough without the need for you to chase more.

  CHAPTER 5

  Bahl gave a grunt of approval, satisfied that this time Isak would do as he was told. He withdrew his hand from the central chimney and turned back to Lesarl, who wore a questioning look. •

  'He has some skills; the tower accepted his command immediately.'

  'That's to be expected, no?'

  Tm not sure. This boy is odd; he reacts to magic as if it is the first time he's seeing it – much like I did when I first came here. But he worked the tower with a practised hand.'

  'Well, he is younger. You were a member of the Guard for how many years before you were Chosen, twelve? Perhaps your skills developed over that time because you were here, but the Krann's remained latent because he grew up on a wagon-train?'

  Bahl didn't reply. From the mantelpiece he picked up a plain wooden pipe, black and scarred from years of use, lit it and settled into a solid armchair by the fire.

  'What do you make of him?'

  Lesarl sighed. 'By himself, a country boy who'd be a good guardsman and has enough brains to become an officer. He's quiet, which is good; more often than not the loud ones turn out to be maniacs. With those gifts, I have to assume there is more, but I simply cannot read the boy.'

  'There is more to him, I'm certain. There's a wildness in his eye8 that I find rather worrying
, and yet…' Bahl's voice drifted away,to be replaced by the crackle of the fire. His stared into the flames, like a man looking for signs and portents, and said quietly, 'I saw Aracnan tonight.'

  Lesarl gave a start. He had not been expecting that. 'Aracnan? The walker-in-shadows? Was he after the boy?'

  ‘No. Aracnan does more than just kill. He had been sent to bring Isak here and present him, like the Tyrant of Mustet did for me. ‘I thought such missions were only given to mortals, expendable too considering what happened to the Tyrant afterwards.' Lesarl d in frustration. Without any unnatural skills himself, the Chief Steward would never fully understand that side of the Land.

  'More commonly, but not always. Aracnan has frequently been sked to perform tasks by the Gods. It's said that he can hear Death's call wherever he is, that there's some connection between them.' 'And no one has ever tried to find out what? Or have none survived

  to tell the truth?'

  That's not for me to say. I doubt even a mage's daemon companion would dare tell. A powerful mage might live as long as I do, but Aracnan is immortal, and thus of greater consequence. He is not a good enemy to make, and he likes his secrets.'

  'Ah, daemon companions, what I could do with one of those-' Bahl's expression cut that sentence off, but the wistful look on Lesarl's face remained as he continued, 'Oh I know it would be heretical, but mages claim necessity and the priests turn a blind eye. Just think of what my spies could do with-'