The Stormcaller

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘I have that honour, sir,’ replied Vesna smoothly, his eyes twinkling as he recognised a kindred spirit. ‘But can I suggest we continue this conversation inside, away from the troops?’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ agreed Isak quickly, realising that the two were going to get on well, probably at his own expense. He draped an arm over Carel’s shoulder and turned towards the main wing where hot food would be waiting. ‘I see you’re well, then.’

  ‘As well as can be expected for a man who feels his age around all these boys.’ Carel waved his hand towards the soldiers, unconsciously touching the white collar on his tunic as he looked at them. Only then did it occur to Isak that Carel was better dressed than Isak had ever seen him before. A fine coat of short black fur reached down to his knees, edged in pristine white fox fur. Under this were bleached soft leathers and a fine pair of high green boots, all of which seemed unusually foppish for the former Ghost.

  ‘You’ve taken advantage of our hospitality then,’ Isak remarked, touching a finger to the coat’s edge.

  ‘I’ve been here only a few days, but your maid has been looking after me - since you’re the Krann, I thought I’d better get myself some new clothes; didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.’ Carel gestured towards the approaching figure of Tila.

  ‘Welcome back, my Lord,’ the girl said, curtseying neatly to Isak, then bobbing her head and adding, ‘Count Vesna.’

  ‘Have you two met before?’ Isak asked, curious.

  ‘No, my Lord,’ Tila said, ‘but the count’s armour makes him easy to recognise, and of course his reputation precedes him.’

  The count hesitated a second, then bowed low to kiss Tila’s hand in formal greeting. ‘My Lady.’

  As Tila’s face remained impassive, Isak remembered she wouldn’t share a soldier’s admiration of Vesna’s reputation.

  There was a frosty edge to her voice when she at last did speak. ‘Your apartments have been readied, but unfortunately there has been some storm damage to one of the court apartments, and the other two are already allocated. I hope you will not mind using guest chambers instead. I have had your belongings delivered to the rooms beside Sergeant Carelfolden’s, since you are both of Lord Isak’s party.’

  Isak gaped at the meek girl he had said goodbye to. The hostility was not open enough to be insulting, but it was obvious all the same. It was the first time he really saw her as a Farlan woman, taught from birth that her position would never be equal to that of a man. For the Chetse, that meant women held no opinions; they were docile, obedient and polite to their masters, never even raising their voices. The Farlan were different, for Farlan womenfolk turned weakness into strength in classic military manner: they ran everything from behind the scenes. It wasn’t shaming for a man’s peers to know his wife made the decisions, and girls with wit and fierce intelligence were well educated and keenly sought in marriage.

  ‘Who’s in the other apartments?’ Isak demanded when he found his voice.

  To his surprise, her gaze never wavered, even in the face of his obvious anger. She stared him down as she replied, ‘Suzerain Tebran is still technically in residence, and Count Vilan has been allocated the other apartment.’

  ‘But we met Tebran at his manor. And Vilan? Fetch Lesarl, now,’ Isak snapped.

  The count raised a black velvet-clad hand. ‘My Lord, I am quite happy with the arrangements. I believe Sir Cerse invited Count Vilan here, and I would hate to interfere with that.’

  Isak looked at his bondsman for a moment and then realisation dawned. He nodded briefly at Vesna, then turned back to Tila and said politely, ‘My Lady, the arrangements are most satisfactory. Please convey my warmest regards to the Chief Steward. I’m sure he would have given me a stable if he could.’

  Tila curtsied again and swung about to return to the palace.

  Vesna breathed in deeply as a brief gust of perfume washed towards him. ‘I think she likes me.’

  ‘She has certain opinions, about—’ Isak blushed, and continued, his voice softer, ‘about sexual relations. I don’t think you quite meet her standards.’

  Vesna laughed dryly. ‘I should hope not. Those sort of “relations”, as you so coyly put it, are not for unmarried girls.’

  ‘I feel sorry for your wife when at last you do marry,’ Isak said with a laugh.

  ‘Why? If I get all my dalliances out of the way beforehand, she will reap the benefit of my hard work and practice!’ He smiled, and Isak didn’t push the subject further. It was clear Vesna had reeled out his defence time after time, whether he actively believed in it or not was not Isak’s problem.

  ‘Anyway, enough of this,’ the count continued. ‘I can decide how to win Lady Tila’s heart some other time. What’s more important is that Count Vilan is on a certain list in my possession.’

  ‘I know; just don’t be too impatient to get his chambers; understood?’

  Carel watched Isak. Whether the boy knew it or not, he was growing into his position as much in attitude as he was in body. He felt a welling of pride in his heart, and gladness: for once his wild boy didn’t have his usual look of wariness on his face. Now he didn’t have to keep out of the way, or keep one eye open for a passing blow, nor did he have to endure the scowls and distrust of everyone he met.

  Isak stood tall and proud. He’d shaken off the slouch he’d adopted as a child to disguise his height and he looked more alive than he ever had. No longer would Isak have to skirt around society: now life would shape itself about his battle-hardened figure. It was more than the child Carel had first met could ever have dreamed of. Now, with an enchanted blade hanging casually at his hip, a dragon on his cloak and clad in magical armour, he would be the envy of every boy in the tribe.

  As Carel’s gaze paused on Eolis, Isak’s head snapped around. The youth’s face was suspicious for a fraction of a second, then he forced out a smile again. ‘Enough of business; we need food and wine.’ He ushered Carel and Vesna towards the Great Hall, where the men crowding around the roasting boar parted respectfully. Isak piled as much food as he could carry into his bowl, then directed Carel to the head table with a nod of his head.

  Once they were all comfortable, he asked Carel, ‘So what news do you have?’

  Carel looked up from his food and hesitated for a moment, trying to read the Krann’s face, but finding nothing, started, ‘Well, Valo finally got around to marrying Faean, Jedah gave birth to a baby girl a day shy of midwinter—’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘Well then, just ask. How can I guess whether you want to hear about Horman or not? You’ve been living with politicians for half a year; you’ve grown one of their blank faces.’

  Isak looked startled, then his more familiar expression of slight anxiety spread across his face.

  ‘So, is he glad I’m gone?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I expect he misses having someone to bully. I expect he’s got less to complain about, so he’s drinking rather than talking.’

  ‘Close enough to the truth there. But of course he misses you. You’re still family, even if you can’t stand each other. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and quite a life it’ll be now. His ended when your mother died. Whatever he thinks of you, you were the last link to her. Many’s the time I’ve got drunk with him and he’s not said a word, just run that green ring around and around in his hand for hours.’

  ‘Well, don’t expect me to see him,’ Isak growled.

  ‘I don’t.’

  Isak looked surprised at Carel’s easy acceptance. He snorted and slapped his palm on the table. ‘You’re surprised? My boy, you’re not the only white-eye I’ve known, and I damn well know you better than any man alive. You’re as proud as you are nasty sometimes. On top of that Horman, my friend as he still is, has done little to deserve your love.’

  ‘Little?’

  Carel waved a finger at him. ‘He looked after you better than some I’ve heard of. Whatever else you say
, and however begrudgingly it was given, you never went hungry. Deny that and I’ll slap you so hard your armour will fall off. There were some all for giving you a child’s portion at meals, instead of more than Valo could manage. Not one would have dared say that to your father.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, for a start, no one wanted to talk about you unless they had to - they were your mother’s folk, and a superstitious rabble, then and now. You look like your mother, and everyone knew what she meant to Horman; he took his loneliness and frustration out on you for that, but he’d not have seen you starve, whatever words his temper might put in his mouth.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I’ll be more alone than he ever was - at least he had someone once; he had a child, even if it was a white-eye.’

  ‘And look what the loss did to him.’

  Isak didn’t reply, but Carel could see from his clamped jaw that the boy understood more than he was going to admit. Before the conversation could continue, Tila arrived with a second bowl of food for Isak.

  Vesna rose at Tila’s arrival, a smile on his lips, but Tila, feeling like he was mocking her, pointedly ignored him and sat down next to Carel, who waved a spoon in greeting. She had immediately warmed to the ageing soldier: there was a warm generosity about him, a feeling of dependability and reassurance, like a loving uncle, perhaps - quite unlike the handsome charms of Count Vesna, whose glittering eyes were not exactly indecent, but they were most certainly predatory.

  Tila wore a simple, warm dress, but with a glance and a smile Vesna managed to make her feel as though she were dressed fit for a summer ball. She had no intention of trusting a man like that. His face was too comely, his words too welcome, his presence too magnetic.

  ‘My Lord, was the battle as much of a success as we have heard?’ she asked, breaking her concentration away from Vesna.

  ‘Was that really all of the Ghosts returning today?’ Carel asked before Isak could finish his mouthful and reply to Tila’s question. He sounded concerned; Carel had been a Ghost; he knew what a full complement looked like and was well able to guess their losses.

  Vesna nodded. ‘Near enough. Some stopped at their homesteads, but with those killed in battle and winter picking off the injured, we’re almost four hundred down. Success? My Lady, it was, but at a high price. Still, Isak led well in his first battle and that’s a good sign for the future.’

  Isak said nothing - he still felt guilty whenever the battle was mentioned - but Carel took his silence as lamenting the dead. ‘Don’t think about the fallen, Isak,’ he said. ‘From what I hear, there would have been even more widows without you: Lord Bahl and the dragon broke the trolls, but they would have been too late if the Ghosts hadn’t held - and without you, they would have been overcome before Lord Bahl got there.’

  Isak looked up and met his friend’s gaze: Carel had never been adept at lying, nor had he ever made allowances for the feelings of an outcast. He had guessed what happened, and understood.

  A sudden draught from the tower corridor heralded the Swordmaster’s arrival. Kerin’s grim face brightened when he breathed in the aroma that filled the Great Hall. The Swordmaster hadn’t yet returned to his training leathers; under his coat was the dress uniform of the Ghosts, including a heavily braided, double-breasted tunic of black linen woven with gold thread.

  He secured a bowl of the stew from the huge cauldrons nestled inside the stone hearth of the great fire and a haunch of the spitted boar, then joined Isak and his friends. He came straight to the point. ‘Lord Bahl has been filling me in. You can use magic now?’

  Isak’s heart sank. From the gleam in Kerin’s eye, the Swordmaster had a whole host of new routines already devised. ‘Barely,’ he said quickly, ‘nothing with any skill, just the most basic of energies, not real combat magic at all.’

  Kerin smiled. ‘Barely will do for me.’

  ‘Magic?’ asked Tila sharply. ‘What do you mean by basic energies?’

  ‘Do you know anything about magic?’ Isak asked. He knew a little more of the subject than when he had left the palace.

  ‘Only that white-eyes are different to wizards.’

  The others had leaned forward slightly and Isak smiled. Few people really knew anything about magic - it was the preserve of a select few - but who could fail to be interested? ‘Well, it’s complicated, and I don’t understand most of it myself. From what I’ve read, there are three types of magic, the basic energies—’

  ‘Like creating lightning?’ Vesna interrupted with boyish eagerness. Any man who had seen Bahl fight knew how destructive that could be.

  ‘Yes,’ Isak said, ‘although I don’t think it’s exactly the same as real lightning, but we’re the Chosen of Nartis so that’s how this works. Creating fire is possible but takes more energy - Lord Chalat or his Krann would be able to do it more easily because of their patron.’

  ‘It’s all the same energy, but different people turn it into different things, lightning, fire or whatever,’ said Kerin, who had far more experience of his Lord’s skills.

  ‘That’s how it ends up,’ Isak agreed. ‘You’d have to ask a wizard from the college why. I don’t understand most of what they say, but apparently I don’t need to. Anyway, the three types are called energies, enchantments and spells. Enchantments are very simple spells, so simple that even white-eyes can do them. It’s just using the energies more carefully, shaping them to a purpose and binding them to stay, rather than releasing them in a single burst.’

  Isak could see from his audience that his lecture was beginning to lose them. He tried an example. ‘Do you remember the story of the jeweller and the rope-snake?’

  ‘The children’s story?’ replied Tila, starting to understand. ‘So the rope was enchanted?’ Seeing blank expressions on the faces of the three men she smiled and began to explain. ‘A jeweller asks a wizard to protect him from thieves - I forget what happened, but the wizard gave him a piece of rope to leave in his shop at night. It would wander the rooms and if anyone else apart from the jeweller came in, it would tie them up.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Isak. ‘There’s more to it than just that, of course, but that’s as far as I’ve got. As for spells, apparently they aren’t something most white-eyes can do. There’s something called “covenant theory”, but I didn’t really understand that.’

  As they all opened their mouths to speak at once, Isak’s name was called out from the door. They turned to see the Chief Steward, flanked by his clerks.

  Lesarl lowered his voice now he had their attention. ‘Lord Isak, the master wishes to see you now, alone. Kerin, there’s work to do.’ He didn’t wait for a response. He was fully up to date now with the events of the last few weeks and there was a mountain of work to do. Quite apart from his normal duties of effectively running Bahl’s lands, he was in charge of securing and paying for everything Bahl felt the army would need. The lack of horses was his problem to resolve; his spy networks needed briefing; and now he had to look at securing the loyalty of the Farlan nobility from an economic perspective. He had a big staff, but keeping control of so many threads was a task more demanding than most men could manage.

  ‘That there is,’ said Kerin to the general company as he rose from his seat. ‘With your leave, my Lord.’

  Isak waved in assent as the grey-haired man lifted his legs over the bench and went back to work. Isak finished his last mouthful of bread and stood to leave. ‘Vesna, I doubt this will take long. Round up some men, recruits, whoever, with practice weapons and armour. Kerin will have to be there for single combat practice, but I’m desperate to stretch my limbs. I’ll meet you by the training posts - Tila, can you show him around?’ He smiled at her.

  Tila didn’t look overly pleased at his request, but she and the count were going to have to get on, no matter what she thought of him. Isak suddenly realised then that whatever feelings he had held for Tila had changed. There was still a close affection, and appreciation, for she was beautiful, but now she was a friend, no
more. Whether she felt the same remained to be seen, but to Isak, his maid had become the sister he’d never had.

  The realisation had been sparked by his lack of jealousy at Vesna’s interest in Tila, despite her obvious scorn for the famous - infamous - count. Things had changed since the battle, and now he just wanted to see Tila happy. There could be no match with him, but Vesna, on the other hand ...

  Carel watched the Krann go to the door with a smile on his face. He wondered whether Isak had noticed that he walked with one finger resting on Eolis always. He hoped the youth would take that armour off soon; he didn’t seem quite human with it on. Still, if he was going to do weapons training he’d have to - Kerin had taken great delight in showing off the suit of armour he’d had specially made for Isak.

  The Swordmaster had described it as the opposite of Siulents, a thick steel frame with each piece coated in lead to add to the already significant weight. The Krann’s practice blade was to be a steel tube filled with lead. The idea was that the weight would slow the boy down so he would have to pay more attention to his technique. Kerin was still unimpressed at being bested on Isak’s first day; he was looking forward to a little friendly revenge.

  As Carel chuckled to himself at the image of Isak in a lead suit, Tila broke her silence. ‘Count Vesna, how is it that you call your master Isak, and yet he still uses your surname?’

  Vesna dropped his gaze in embarrassment, his veneer of charm suddenly stripped away. ‘I, ah ... well, to be honest, Lord Isak has yet to think of it. He has only one name, and it is good enough for him, so he thinks it is good enough for everyone.’

  ‘But you do have a name?’ A nasty grin crept over Tila’s normally gentle features; she was sensing a weakness in the famous Count Vesna’s glamour.

  ‘I do, but I do not use it—’

  ‘You will tell me,’ Tila insisted to the squirming warrior.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Otherwise I shall feel honour-bound to put the idea in Isak’s head, perhaps during the banquet tonight—’