The stormcaller tr-1

by Tom Lloyd

  With Mihn close behind, Isak followed the king behind the partition to find a polished wooden bench opposite a small stone shrine at the far end. The shrine, the height of a normal man's chest, had empty slots for incense sitting before an icon of each God of the Upper Circle.

  'Excessive piety has its uses,' commented Emin as he indicated the shrine. 'Would you be kind enough to move that to one side? It should go very easily for one of your strength; it pivots about the right-hand side.'

  Isak looked suspiciously at the shrine, but he could detect no magic anywhere so he nodded and gripped the sides carefully. The shrine did indeed twist to the right with almost no effort. The wide base moved aside to reveal a hole in the ground. Isak peered in, he could see nothing. The king smiled and bowed in mock thanks, then stepped past the Farlan Lord and crouched down to the hole.

  'The city worries that I have some distressing skin condition. I spend many hours at the baths, so they naturally fear the worst. My doctor is well paid to possess a creative imagination, and by half a dozen others to reveal all he knows. He's starting to enjoy it now, I think.'

  He smiled and dropped through into the black depths. The Krann

  turned and caught Mihn's amused expression. He still couldn't see

  anything, but if the king had taken that fall so easily, how could he

  not? Another lesson, it appeared, whether intentional or not: find out

  how deep the hole is before you show it to anyone else! Isak reached

  a hand out into the space before him and concentrated. It was easy

  now. Within a few seconds a faint blue glow began to emanate from

  his fingertips, then it increased in intensity, creeping out to caress the

  smooth walls of the tunnel below and the floor, perhaps seven feet

  down.

  Emin waited casually to one side, one eyebrow raised theatrically at Isak's use of magic. 'Come, my Lord, time is a-was ting.'

  Isak dropped down, followed by Mihn, and then Coran lowered himself down carefully and deliberately. Isak was puzzled until he saw Coran drop the last few feet on to his right leg. Interesting, Isak thought: given the recuperative powers of most white-eyes, either that damaged leg was a recent injury, or it had been a very severe one.

  The king reached out and touched his fingers to a rope that ran all the way down the side of the wood-beamed tunnel. With the light Isak still brandished it was unnecessary, but Emin still trotted his fingers along the rope as he walked off down the slightly sloping tunnel, followed by Coran and then, with a shrug, Isak and Mihn.

  As Emin chattered idly away, the hole quietly closed up behind them.

  CHAPTER 3O

  'Your Majesty-'

  'Please, interrupted the king, 'that's a little formal for these surroundings, don't you think? Call me Emin – at least when there's no one around to sniff at the breach in protocol!'

  'Of course,' Isak said. 'What I wanted to know was why you use the "heart" rune.'

  Emin turned, the weak light casting a strange shadow on his face. 'For the Brotherhood?' He shrugged. 'A whim, nothing more. Did Fedei tell you that?'

  Isak nodded.

  The king didn't seem at all irritated at all by the Seer's revelation, merely curious. 'My only requirement was a basic design that could be recognisable, even when so small. I decided on a core rune because they are very simple, and chose "heart" because it can mean "kernel" or "stone" in certain contexts, like a cherry stone, for example. I thought that apt for Narkang: rich and sweet, but under the surface not so vulnerable. If an enemy takes too great a bite, he'll break his teeth, I promise. That's all, nothing more sinister.' He laughed. 'Why?'

  Isak shook his head. 'No reason; it just struck me as strange.'

  'As does much in this life, I find. Ah, here we are.'

  They had walked several hundred yards and now the tunnel ended abruptly at a wall set with iron rungs. Isak could see a square wooden shaft with slivers of light creeping through the gaps between the higher planks. The rungs were no more than finger-thick steel rods, bent into two right angles and hammered into the rock. Isak tested the first gingerly after Emin had climbed up, but it was clear they went deep. By the time Isak reached halfway up, the king had exited through a trapdoor and into what looked like a cupboard.

  Isak peered through at floor level and wrinkled his nose at the thick odour of dust. Squeezing his arms and shoulders through the hole, Isak raised himself up into the small space, brushing away a musty-smelling cape as it stroked his face. He wondered who owned it, and where they were – it didn't seem fitting that a king should own something so frayed. Then he grinned and reminded himself that he wasn't the only one with a previous life. The king had taken his throne by force; maybe this cape was a reminder of sorts. The door stood ajar and Isak paused for a second, listening to the voices, before pushing his way into the room.

  'Captain, we have a visitor. Could you please tell Antern to come up, and any of the Brothers who might be around? Our newcomer and the librarian might also want to meet my guest. I suspect most are in, no?'

  They are,' confirmed a gruff old voice grumpily. 'I was up here trying to find some peace and quiet.'

  'But again I have confounded you, my apologies. Ah, Lord Isak, please make yourself comfortable.'

  Emin gestured to the empty room as he ushered out a bulky man with silver hair. It was luxuriously furnished, with a large oak desk dominating one end, eight armchairs in a half-circle before it. Paintings adorned every wall, landscapes, for the most part: a distant village surrounded by hills,,a vista of the city busy under summer sun. Isak went to a window and looked out through the leaded glass. In the distance he could see the copper dome of the Public Assembly building glowing in the afternoon sun.

  This is the Di Senego Club. A small gentlemen's club of no great importance to the would-be power brokers of the city,' explained Emin as Mihn and Coran emerged in turn from the cupboard.

  Mihn checked the door, then went to inspect the windows. Apparently satisfied, he took up a position by the door with a view of the whole room. The king moved behind the desk and unbuckled his sword-belt, hanging the gold-hiked rapier from one of two large hooks protruding from the wall.

  'Please, my Lord, take a seat. A few associates of mine will be coming up shortly. I know we have important matters to discuss between us, but these are men Morghien and I trust.'

  Isak found himself a chair directly opposite Emin and unbuckled his own blade. The weapon rested comfortably in the crook of his arm as he sat down. He turned to Mihn, suddenly remembering the final gift, and pointed at the backpack.

  He turned back to the king. 'That reminds me, your- Emin. Morghien gave me a scroll to give to you, and I have another gift from Lord Bahl. A gesture of goodwill that he didn't wish to be quite so public.' Mihn pulled the bag from his back and retrieved the items then placed both scroll and book on to the desk.

  'Mihn has told me what he knows about Morghien, but perhaps you know more about what he wants with me?' He knew he sounded a little whiny, but he was a little fed up with being the object of everyone's interest.

  Emin fixed his piercing blue eyes on the Krann for a moment, then nodded. 'Of course, though the whole story is too long to relate.' He picked up the scroll and waved it in Isak's direction. 'Can I assume you've read both of these?'

  'Of course. They wouldn't have been given to me otherwise.' 'Good, that will save time. As for Morghien, after his experience with the Aspect Seliasei, he wandered the Land and picked up one or two more passengers, and one of those incidents led him to be taken on as acolyte to a minor mage. They went on an expedition, organised by a group of scholars who had become acquainted through a shared study of the Mage Verliq's works. The expedition was to the ruins of Castle Keriabral, Aryn Bwr's own fortress. It fell during the Great War, under somewhat mysterious circumstances. They were escorted by a half-legion of Knights of the Temples.'

  'And what did they find? All the Seer to
ld me was that Morghien was the only one who survived.'

  Emin hesitated, hearing distant voices. 'Coran,' he asked, 'could you ask them to wait on the stair for a minute?'

  The white-eye nodded and left, closing the door carefully behind him.

  'It is something Morghien is unwilling to discuss,' Emin told Isak. 'It was five years before he felt able to share any of that experience with me. I hope you can understand that he would not like me to divulge such information freely.'

  He paused for a moment. His face looked haunted. 'All you need to know is that two men survived to walk back to Embere. They would not talk about their experiences, other than to say that they had looked Azaer in the face, and heard his dreadful voice. One was

  Morghien. The other was the son of one of the expedition's leaders, a talented young man named Cordein Malich-'

  'Malich?' interrupted Isak and Mihn as one. The king nodded gravely.

  'Malich. The young man who became the root of so many of your troubles. In exchange for his life, Malich made a pact of some sort.'

  Isak sat up straight, a frown on his face. 'So who, or what, is Azaer?'

  'Another mystery – and in my opinion, the most dangerous one. Among the members of this club are some of the finest minds around, academics and mages, but all we have discovered so far is that there is neither God nor daemon called Azaer. The last man who worked on the problem must have been getting somewhere, for Azaer decided to make an example of him. He was haunted by his own shadow and died, with his wife, in a locked room. I cannot and will not ask anyone else to face such a death again.

  'Even so, it continues to snare others, victims of chance whose deaths serve no purpose that I can fathom beyond Azaer's own amusement.' The king leant forward on his desk as he spoke, his knuckles whitening.

  Isak pointed to the book on the desk. 'According to Cardinal Disten, the man who wrote that book, Azaer was not really worshipped as such. Malich was a necromancer, he dealt with daemons. Cardinal Disten says he ifivoked Azaer's name as a warning, a threat to others.'

  Isak felt a little foolish; Emin surely knew far more than he did, but he gave no sign of impatience.

  'Then that in itself is instructive,' he said, contemplatively. 'Daemons require worship from their followers as Gods do. From what I can work out, Azaer encourages only fear, causing misery and pain whether his – its – name is mentioned or not. It's a subtler mind at work than a daemon, and I think perhaps, given how infrequently he acts, it is reasonable to say his power is weaker too, more suited to encouraging others along a certain path than creating the path itself. Azaer lives in the shadows-' He paused as Isak flinched, but the Krann said nothing.

  After a moment Emin continued, but he was watching Isak carefully now. 'Azaer lives in the shadows, manipulating events, perhaps even thoughts, but why, we don't know. Those foolish few we've found worshipping Azaer have treated him as a daemon or a God, but generally it's been an individual, out for personal gain, rather than a huge group of people. My suspicion is that Azaer tolerates such a use as long as his name is associated with fear.'

  'So what does he want with me?'

  'The same as the Gods, the same as the Knights of the Temples, and probably the White Circle too. And right now I'm afraid we have more pressing concerns than even Azaer poses.' He raised a hand to ward off further questions and called out, 'Coran, bring them in please.'

  Isak turned to the door as it opened to admit a group of men, varying in age. The white-eye took up position by the wall at Emin's desk. The first two men into the room were so engrossed in discussion they didn't even notice Isak, until a third gave a strangled squawk at the sight of him.

  'Gentlemen, please come in and find yourselves a seat,' called Emin in a schoolmasterly tone. They turned to the king and collectively mumbled assent. From their clothes, Isak realised they were noblemen, but none of them looked at him with the suspicion he'd been greeted with at the baths.

  'Lord Isak, may I introduce you to some friends of mine? The two elderly conversationalists at the front are Norimin Dele, Chief Librarian of the College of Magic, and Anversis Halis, my uncle. I'm not entirely sure why he's here, so we will ignore him for the time being, until he cannot keep himself from talking any longer and Coran throws him out.'

  The librarian gave a throaty chuckle and patted his companion on the shoulder as Halis dismissed his nephew's words with an abrupt wave of the hand and sank into an armchair. From the glare Coran was giving Halis, it might be less of a joke than Emin was making out.

  'Norimin, how goes your search for the Stigmata of the Last Battle?'

  'Ah, well now!' the librarian exclaimed with enthusiasm, 'we have several interesting reports to follow up on – a young woman in Cholos has apparently had bouts of bleeding down the centre of her skull since the spring of last year. One of our friends has agreed to bring her to Narkang, so I hope to be able to bring her to the club and investigate matters further.'

  'Excellent, I look forward to it. Please, take a seat. Next, Lord Isak, we have two rather more reputable men – in that they were founding members of the criminal organisation that so plagues this city. Sir Creyl, and Marshal Dorik of Tohl. Sir Creyl is also Commander of the Brotherhood.'

  The two each gave a respectful bow and found chairs opposite the older men.

  'And Counts Alscap, a long-time ally, and Antern, whom you have already met.'

  These men bowed also. Antern positioned himself closest to King Emin, while the large, ruddy-faced Count Alscap was content to sit beside Isak and eye him suspiciously.

  'Count Alscap is one of the newest members of our club and thus knows less of our activities than most,' the king added softly. 'I hope to persuade him that his influence could be better employed here than for further increasing his already impressive fortune.'

  'Well, he's not convinced of that, and is in no rush to discover more – but he is in the king's debt and willing to be of what service he can,' Count Alscap said to Isak, his voice deep and rather abrasive.

  'Well,' declared Emin, realising they were now all staring curiously at his guest, 'I hope my news will be sufficiently mundane for you, Count Alscap. Antern, Creyl and Dorik know this already, but for those of you who do not, you may have noticed that this year the Spring Fair is going to be the largest yet. Every tavern, inn and stable is already full; some enterprising spirits have even erected tents as temporary inns.'

  He looked around the room. So far no one looked that interested. That in itself is not a problem,' he went on. 'However, it has come to my attention that there are more men coming in than have taken lodgings.'

  Isak saw Count Alscap and the two older men sit up straighten

  'Too many of the wagon-trains have too few wares, and too many attendants, if you pay the attention some public-spirited thieves do.'

  'Have they been able to investigate the wagons?' asked Isak cautiously.

  'No,' replied Sir Creyl, leaning forward in his seat, face flushed purple with anger. 'Two of our boys were caught and flogged to death by the guards. No local man would dare do that, not go up against both the law and the Brotherhood. As soon as the watchmen arrived

  they were bribed to ignore it, a good amount too. Fortunately for us, they quietly took the money and left to report it immediately to Commander Brandt. We encourage our watchmen to appear open to such offers.'

  'Lots of men, wagons that they don't want thieves to investigate

  – who's planning the rebellion then?' Isak looked round at the assembled faces, but they were all turned to the king.

  The king cleared his throat. 'As far as we can tell, it's the White Circle. We've identified a number of known mercenary captains among the men coming in, which the Devoted would have no need for, even if they weren't noted for executing mercenaries at every opportunity.'

  'But that's not like the White Circle, they've never led or funded an uprising anywhere,' protested Alscap. 'They've always used influence and money to get what they wa
nt. Even the war in Tor Milist

  – they may be the guiding force, but they're neither paying for it or fighting it. Why would they change tactics now? Their detachment has worked well in the past.'

  Everyone was nodding in agreement, though Isak wasn't quite sure what they were talking about: the White Circle kept cropping up, but all he really knew was that it was a sisterhood of rich women and Lesarl had not been able to infiltrate it – unless his beautiful assassin had managed to inveigle her way in by now. Everyone knew Helrect was run by a woman, Siala, a duchess by marriage – but she used no title, to underline the fact that she ruled without her husband's participation.

  True enough,' replied Count Antern, 'but Narkang is rather greater a prize. Three months ago they brought a man into the city – we think he's to be the leader of this uprising. Most mercenaries will take money from women, but not orders, and none of the men associated with the White Circle here are capable of leading an army of any sort.'

  'None still alive, you mean,' muttered the librarian, Dele, darkly. 'I can think of several men who'd have done it well enough before they contracted "sudden illnesses" soon after their wives decided to join the White Circle.'

  That bastard Jex,' bellowed the king's uncle suddenly. Half the room flinched at his unexpected outburst.

  Halis muttered an apology as his nephew said, 'Correct uncle,

  Herolen Jex. It took us a long time to discover who he was exactly, but even without his history, it's clear he could fill the role perfectly.' He looked at Isak. 'You probably won't have heard of Jex: he was a pirate captain from Vijgen, apparently quite famous if you have time for pirate tales, but he is both ruthless and intelligent for certain.'

  'In any case,' Count Antem said, 'the end of the Spring Fair would be the logical time to attack. All of our informants agree that's the day. Half the city will be drunk, and they know the king will have to be out on the field to reward the winners of the tourneys and tilting.'