The stormcaller tr-1

by Tom Lloyd

  Despite Isak's initial suspicions, Doranei had proved good company as they travelled through the country he loved. The man knew when to talk and when to keep a comfortable silence. The Krann suspected he had a few secrets of his own – perhaps all of the Brotherhood did – and they had taught him the value of silence.

  There was a sparkle of spring in the air. A brisk breeze ran over the fields and whistled over the road before shivering through the branches of a bank of ash trees on the other side. Through the trees Isak could see neat rows of crops and a manor house in the distance. Boys lazed on a paddock fence, coaxing horses over to them, while the cattle they were tending drifted aimlessly in the meadow. As Isak and his companions neared the peak of the rise, the wind changed direction and brought the taste of salt from the ocean.

  They reached Doranei, who stretched an arm out to present his city.

  'Behold, my Lord: Narkang, First City of the West.'

  Beside Isak, Tila gasped. A wide, open plain stretched out before them, painted the vibrant green of spring and dotted with dark copses of copper beech and elm. In from the east came the Morwhent, the river that had carried them most of the way to the city, now running wide and slow. A pair of high arches spanned the river to a small island in the centre, which allowed the sandstone city wall to run unbroken even by the river's passage.

  From the banks of the river the wall followed the curve of the ground up and around in a gentle undulation to encircle wide regular streets of purple-slate rooftops.

  Occupying the higher ground deeper inside was what could only have been the White Palace, its twin silver-capped towers glittering in the sunlight. The lower ground of the western side, where the river entered the city, was hidden by the walls, but a great copper dome shone in the sunlight. Past that, faint in the distance, Isak could see a soaring slender tower that would have been remarkable even in Tirah.

  And somewhere even further beyond, vague and grey in the distance, lay the ocean. Isak could feel the immense weight of water lurking at the back of his mind, an old and powerful presence, but comforting nonetheless. The magnificence of the ocean, stretching out to the distant horizon, beyond which lived the Gods, overshadowed even the glory that was Narkang.

  A thousand flags fluttered and whipped from the walls of the city, a disordered mix of colours and shapes, and a huge banner hung above the Southern Gate. The banner was almost as large as the massive copper-plated gate itself, and even at this distance, the visitors could easily make out the golden bee with its wings outstretched over the green background.

  'It's a fine sight, is it not, my Lord?' continued Doranei as the remaining Farlan soldiers vied for position to take in the view. 'Visiting foreign climes is an easier thing to do when you've Narkang's smile to return to.'

  'A fine sight indeed.' Vesna and Carel nodded their agreement. The city was confirmation that Narkang's power equalled that of Tirah, and they all knew it.

  As if Narkang was not enough, the low plain in front of the city was a hive of activity. At least ten great pavilions and stands were being erected, while long swathes of tent cloth lay out on the ground, ready to be raised. Hundreds of cut posts lay in stacked piles; cables and ropes snaked all over the ground and a veritable army of people scurried in all directions with wagons and livestock. Flocks of sheep were being herded to the joyful yaps and barks of the hounds protecting them, drowning the calls of the shepherds and those in their path.

  The Spring Fair, my Lady,' supplied Doranei as Tila cast him a questioning look. 'It's due to begin in two days, the day before the Equinox. It will be the biggest yet. I believe the entire city will rejoice at your visit, Lord Isak.'

  'I see a scarlet banner over there. It's hard to make out, but I'm guessing it's the Runesword of the Devoted?'

  'It is, my Lord.'

  'And you still think I'll be welcomed by all?'

  'I doubt the Knight-Cardinal wishes to make an enemy of you, my Lord.'

  'After what I did to his nephew, I hear he wants to make a corpse of me.' Isak laughed grimly.

  'His personal feelings are still secondary to the requirements of his office, my Lord,' Doranei said sternly. 'First, there is the fact that you might be the Saviour his Order has been waiting for; second, the Devoted are not so powerful as to openly defy King Emin.'

  'Surely the existence of Piety Keep is a fairly obvious point of defiance,' interjected Vesna. The Fortress of the Devoted was jokingly referred to as Piety Keep, a nickname the Order despised. Lesarl had warned them all that using it in Narkang could easily result in big trouble.

  Doranei scowled. Isak guessed that he didn't mind about the name, just that politics intruded on the pleasure of returning home. ‘The matter is not quite so simple, but I'm sure the king would prefer to debate it himself.' He broke off as the two rangers trotted up with a third man, dressed like Doranei, right down to the bee at his throat.

  Doranei smiled, and said, 'My brother, Veil, has taken word to the king that you have arrived. Royal processions take a little time to get moving. I'm sure you understand.'

  Veil didn't dismount, but touched his fingers to lips and forehead in salute to the followers of Nartis, struck his fist against Doranei's and then whipped his horse around to return. Despite the similarity in dress, the man looked nothing like Doranei. Isak thought it a fair assumption that under Veil's long dark hair was another tattooed ear.

  Carel ordered the guards to dismount, brush down their horses to remove the morning's dirt and tend to their uniforms – just one morning back in the saddle had taken its toll on the cream cloth. Isak found a handful of oatcakes in his saddlebag and a hard hunk of cheese to chew on as he swapped his saddle from Megenn to the more impressive Toramin. The gelding was a fine horse and superbly trained, but the fiery stallion was Isak's favourite. Toramin's dark flanks were draped in a pure white cloth so that only his head, neck and hocks were exposed. Isak's helm dangled from his saddle, within easy reach.

  Isak turned to see Vesna struggling into his armour for the first time in weeks, chuckling to himself as the man fought to free himself of a snag. Magic might have made the black-iron lighter than normal, but it was no less awkward. Tila was already wearing full court dress; she had ridden side-saddle all morning. Now she perched with practised ease, fastening charms and jewellery to her dress before wrapping a silken scarf artfully about her head.

  The wait was much shorter than anyone had anticipated. Isak, lazing on Toramin's back, had been watching first Veil's passage to the city and then the activity on the plain. Veil had disappeared inside the city only a few minutes previously, but a faint chorus of trumpets prompted a double column of horsemen to trot out through the gate and split away to line each side of the road. Once these troops were out and ready, a second fanfare announced another group of horses, this time no more than twenty in number.

  In their usual order, the Farlan cantered down the slope. The spare horses and baggage had been quartered with a merchant Doranei knew – Isak knew that this meeting of rulers could potentially be momentous and he saw no reason for either ranger to have to say he was a mile back and looking after the horses when Lord Isak met King Emin for the first time. They might have been stoical veterans, but they didn't deserve to miss out on the fun.

  As soon as they heard the fanfare people arrived to line the broad thoroughfare that led to the city. There was quite a crowd by the time the Farlan neared the centre of the plain, all eyes straining to see the foreign white-eye. As he passed the first few, Isak caught mutters and whispered oaths but he ignored them. He knew as well as anyone that Siulents alone was an intimidating sight, and the enormous dragon-emblazoned charger only added to the effect. Toramin's shoulder was just shy of six and a half feet from the ground; with Isak on top the sight was absolutely awe-inspiring.

  Looking ahead, Isak began to make out individual faces in the procession; he tried to fit them to what Tila had schooled him on over the past few weeks. Out at the front was obviously Emin Thon
al, King of Narkang, dressed in his own colours. Some white material showed through slashes down the sides and arms, clearly the height of fashion, if the other noblemen were anything to go by. A wide-brimmed hat topped with a feather sat cocked to one side on his head, again echoed by those behind him. Isak couldn't help but wonder, with all he'd heard about this man, whether he chose his dress just to see who would follow.

  At the king's side rode his queen, brightly clad in spring colours, on a slender bay. Though she was a little older than King Emin, Queen Oterness was both dignified and elegant, and neither the grey wings in her shining auburn hair nor the faint lines around her eyes detracted from her serene beauty.

  The king's bodyguard rode behind the royal couple, a white-eye the size of General Lahk called Coran, who had been the king's closest confidant since he took power. Rumours about the king and his friend persisted as the queen failed to produce a child, despite the white-eye's well-known appetites for the city's plentiful whores. Lesarl's spies had

  concluded there was little to the gossip; the pair were close through the attractions of power, not of the flesh. Coran was dressed soberly in a neat and functional tunic similar to that worn by Veil and Doranei: not quite a uniform, but enough that Isak knew to look for a bee device and tattoo when he was near enough.

  As the two parties converged, Doranei gave a small twitch of the hand and the escorting columns of Kingsguard moved off to drive the burgeoning crowd back from the road. Careful to give the Farlan more than enough room, the soldiers turned their horses halfway out towards the crowd, then turned inwards in their saddles to salute.

  Carel growled an order and the advance section of Ghosts split away and fell behind before the two parties actually met. Isak led the remainder a little way into the funnel of Kingsguard, then reined in so he could approach on foot. Tila had quietly mentioned that it would hardly be seeming for King Emin to greet his guest from two or three feet lower: there was still a huge difference in height, but on horseback it would only be accentuated.

  Taking that as their cue, both parties followed suit and strode forward to meet each other. With hands out, palm up, Isak approached the king, who swept off his hat and executed a deep bow. Feeling awkward, Isak was about to follow suit when the king stepped forward to grasp Isak's arm in friendship.

  'My Lord Isak,' King Emin declared in a clear, cultured voice, 'please be welcome in my kingdom.'

  'King Emin,' Isak replied, keeping his voice at a similar level, 'I thank you, and all the people of Narkang and the Three Cities, for the welcome I have received every day I have spent in your kingdom.'

  Isak bowed as he spoke. Tila had told him that the Farlan had never officially acknowledged Emin Thonal's self-coronation, so those words made a significant gesture, both politically and theologically.

  Understanding showed in Emin's eyes as he returned the bow.

  He looked younger than Isak had expected. He had ruled Narkang for twenty summers, taking over the city when he was only a little older than Isak was now, but his hair was untouched by grey, the light tan glinting in the midday sun. He had handsome features, dominated by a strong nose and brilliant blue eyes. Looking into those knowing eyes reminded Isak of Lord Bahl's own piercing stare. He lost himself there for a moment before remembering protocol required him to speak again.

  'May I present those I bring with me? Count Vesna, the Lady Tila Introl, and Marshal Carelfolden, the Commander of my Guard.' The king nodded to each as Isak held a hand back to Tila and she passed him the gifts Bahl and his Chief Steward had so carefully selected.

  'Your Majesty,' Isak continued, 'please accept these as gifts of friendship, the axe named Darklight-' he held out the wrapped weapon and Emin immediately loosened the cord to pull off the canvas covering. He lifted it up: a single-headed axe with a wickedly curved spike on the reverse, made from a single piece of dusky steel, not black-iron but something other, with four rods of steel strengthening the wooden shaft. Cut right through the body of the blade were five runes: light shining through as their edges glowed red. The king handed the covering to Coran and slipped one ring-bedecked hand about the grip. The Chetse had small fingers, so one of the guardsmen had carefully added extra leather binding to Darklight's grip. As King Emin flexed his fingers about it, Isak thought they had underestimated, but the king took a few practice strokes and appeared delighted with the result. He beamed at his guest and passed the weapon back to his bodyguard, who rewrapped it, then cradled it carefully in his

  arms.

  'For your queen,' Isak continued, 'I offer these jewels, created solely for her and those who share her family line.' He handed King Emin a small leather box, which he passed carefully to Queen Oterness.

  The queen opened the box as carefully as her husband had unwrapped Darklight, but her gasp of wonder was entirely spontaneous. Nestled inside the velvet-lined container were twelve brilliant-cut emeralds, set in gold, connected by four thin chains of gold to a larger emerald. As soon as the queen touched one of the emeralds, all the jewels started to twitch, and one length of chain reached out tentatively to touch her hand. Snake-jewels were famous enough that the queen knew what to expect, but still she looked alarmed as the golden chain began to work its way up her arm. She trembled slightly as the jewels slid with a reptilian movement towards her shoulder, but every-one was watching, so she ignored her fear and gracefully inclined her head towards the largest emerald.

  With delicate care the chain wove itself in and out of her gleaming auburn hair, carefully positioning the jewels until the large emerald had wriggled its way to the surface at her forehead. The smaller emeralds now circled her head like a crown. Once they were all in place,

  they stilled. The queen reached up to touch them hesitantly – they felt like normal stones, normal gold, except for an almost imperceptible warmth.

  She smiled at her husband, then curtsied deeply to Isak. 'You honour me,' she said. 'I do thank you, for me and for my daughters to come.'

  For a moment Isak glimpsed the sadness in her eyes and recalled the couple were still childless, but then Queen Oterness smiled, and it lit up her eyes. Isak smiled back and inwardly sighed with relief. He hadn't been sure the snake jewels were right – they'd startled him when Tila had shown him how her grandmother's set of sapphires worked – but Tila had promised him that once over the initial discomfort, any woman would adore such a gift. The jewels had some property imbued in them that seemed almost to enhance beauty. Certainly Queen Oterness was almost glowing now.

  Isak had decided not to offer the last gift, the book, publicly. A Murder of Cardinals was an account of the Malich affair, written by Cardinal Disten, the man who had exposed the plot in the first place. Isak suspected that King Emin would disappear with the book and pore over it for hours, probably with his curious friend Morghien, at the first opportunity.

  . Now King Emin bowed again, and said, 'My Lord, your generosity overwhelms us. I fear I have nothing to offer a man so blessed with gifts as you, but the freedom of my city and realm are yours, as is my lasting friendship.'

  Isak smiled: this was all going well. The host should offer nothing but friendship, and since that was what Isak had been sent to win, he was pleased. His first attempt at diplomacy was not going too badly, at least so far.

  He indicated his retinue and said, 'We look forward to exploring the beauties of your city; thank you for your kindness.'

  'And,' continued the king, 'if such a friendship results in sufficient trade to require an embassy here, I would be delighted to offer you the former duke's residence in perpetuity as your home away from home; a little piece of Tirah in Narkang.'

  From the murmurs, Isak guessed the offer was both unexpected and generous. He bowed again, not sure if he should do or say anything else, but the bow seemed to suffice.

  The king was speaking again. 'But I have been remiss in my introductions. Lord Isak, allow me to officially present to you Queen Oterness.'

  The queen held out her hand and
Isak took it gently, as Tila had taught him, and kissed the silk of her glove.

  'My bodyguard and friend, Coran,' he continued, indicating the people as he spoke, 'my Prime Minister, Count Antern, and the Chief Councillor of the Public Assembly, Morten Deyl.'

  Isak inclined his head briefly to each one. Coran looked like a thug with the brains to realise he was nothing without the king. Count Antem looked every inch the sly, ruthless politician that Lesarl had described: the man was utterly loyal to his king and had profited enormously by it. The only unknown quantity here was the Chief Councillor: Morten Deyl had recently been elected to head the Public Assembly. He'd come from almost complete obscurity, but his first year in office had resulted in a host of allegations and rumours. To Lesarl's fury, he had still not discovered who had engineered the vote.

  Isak noticed the Chief Councillor's narrow eyes never left Eolis the entire time, even when he bowed. Whatever else he was, the man was a coward.

  'Now, my Lord, I'm sure your companions are tired from the journey. Apartments have been prepared in the White Palace for you and your staff – and this afternoon I thought the public baths might be an excellent place to visit. Even if I do say so myself, I think you'll agree they really are quite magnificent.' His enthusiasm was infectious and Isak was not the only one who found himself smiling at the thought of such a luxury after their journey.

  Isak stood on a balcony above the courtyard of the palace, surveying the neat beds of red, orange and white flowers that lined the white stone walls. There was a surprising absence of guards – the whole palace felt genteel, elegant; Isak thought it was overly relaxed, and definitely vulnerable. Huge, ornate golden cages standing on pillars all about the grounds housed a multitude of extravagantly coloured songbirds whose voices filled the palace. Isak recalled what the Seer of Ghorent had said: he could well imagine how beautiful the grounds would look when thousands of butterflies arrived. The network of gravel paths, ornate fountains and marble statues was a far cry from the hard-packed earth and tired, worn grass of Tirah Palace's training