The Stormcaller

by Tom Lloyd

  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 Thonal, 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 everyone 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 Antern 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 ground. What few guards there were wore gold-plated armour and appeared to be as ornamental as the songbirds.

  ‘He must be very sure in his power,’ Isak commented to Vesna. ‘This place is wide open to attack.’

  The count had been very glad to get out of his armour now that the formal introductions were over; their overtly militaristic dress felt rather uncomfortable in these refined surroundings.

  ‘He’s designed the place carefully, that’s for sure,’ he replied. ‘Look carefully: those walls, for example - the top piece is wooden. I’d wager that a unit of men with hammers could knock out the pins, drop them down inside the wall and be there to man the battlements underneath within minutes. Did you notice the ground outside the outer wall? It’s not solid. That’s just a layer of earth over boards, no doubt covering a deep ditch. And these apartments? They form a ring, accessible only from the inside. If the main wall is breached, Emin has the higher roof of this ring to turn that pretty courtyard into a killing ground.’

  Isak looked around once more. In place of a defenceless fancy palace with a sculptured garden, he now saw a classical two-wall castle. He pictured the king himself, and his feathered hat: the absurd headgear hadn’t detracted from the man’s coldly brilliant eyes that looked as if they saw everything.

  ‘That does seem to be the theme of this city,’ he agreed. ‘I wonder what else we’ll find lurking under the finery?’

  ‘I’ll keep my eyes open in the public baths, watch out for the smiling and the harmless, as my father would have said.’ Vesna took a bite from an apple and leaned against the balcony, looking up at his lord.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll find something to look at there. All those married women bathing ... Tila won’t speak to you for a week,’ Isak teased.

  The designers who turned Narkang’s half-dozen natural hot springs into one of the great wonders of the Land had created three smaller chambers alongside the main public bath. The first was reserved for soldiers; the king’s habit of ennobling his supporters meant many of the city’s rich elite were scarred veterans. The smaller chamber afforded them a degree of privacy, and allowed the younger generation to mingle with military heroes. King Emin hoped lessons learned by the older soldiers would be passed on not only through training, but by talking.

  The second was for women only, so unmarried girls were not on public display, as they would be in the main bath.

  The last, the smallest, was a private bath chamber reserved for the royal couple. Few had ever been invited into this sanctuary; it was a rare honour. Since Doranei had been the one to bring Isak’s invitation to join King Emin there, it was clear that there was real business to discuss - business that needed to be kept private.

  They were summoned to the courtyard an hour or so later, to find King Emin and a line of litters ready for them. His entourage was smaller; the only newcomer was a rather harassed-looking man, unevenly shaved and obviously uncomfortable in his dress uniform. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty summers, but from the way he was shifting from foot to foot it looked like he could think of far more productive ways of spending his time than sitting in the public baths with some foreign dignitary.

  ‘Lord Isak, this is Commander Brandt of the City Watch. I know you have your Ghosts, but it will be Commander Brandt’s responsibility to ensure they are not required. You have the freedom of the city, but I’m afraid you might find a rather troubled Brandt trotting along behind.’

  Isak smiled. That made sense: Commander Brandt might have started out as one of the ambitious noblemen of the Kingsguard, but he’d obviously had the shine rubbed off by years of chasing criminals. ‘He’s young to be Commander of the Watch,’ Isak commented. There was a tense pause and then the Krann grinned at Brandt. ‘I assume that means he’s good at his job, so I’m delighted to have him on hand.’

&nb
sp; Relief flushed over the commander’s face. At King Emin’s gesture, the Krann made for the litter with the largest bearers. Most of them had a half-naked man at each corner, their skin oiled, jewellery hanging from their ears and about their necks. Each bearer had curious leather thongs hanging from their wrists. As Isak stepped towards his litter he saw four more bearers move up discreetly to share the weight.

  Tila had warned him that litters were the normal choice inside the city walls, but Isak doubted that the bearers had ever had someone of his weight. He tapped the edge of the frame before sitting down, glad at least to feel a strong metallic frame under the cloth. Satisfied the litter at least would bear him, Isak made himself comfortable.

  The bearers allowed him a moment to settle, then carefully wrapped the leather thongs about each handle and lifted. A slight grunt came from one of the men, but none wavered. The man on the back-right comer checked his team to make sure they were not about to drop one of the most powerful men in the Land, then they stood ready while the rest of the party did likewise.

  Mihn ignored the litter and stationed himself on Isak’s left, steel-shod staff held as a walking stick. A small bag hung from his shoulders, tied tight to his back so the book and scroll it contained would not restrict his movements in case of trouble. Commander Brandt took up his station on Isak’s right. His hand rested on the rapier at his hip; his eyes checked out every other figure in the courtyard.

  King Emin waited until his guests were sorted before he climbed into his own litter, then the whole procession set off, quickly finding a natural rhythm. They shuffled with surprising speed, out under the peaked arch and into the city. Each litter had a thin bamboo framework hung with silk so the passenger could draw a curtain and block out the city, but Isak was far too interested in seeing Narkang. Tirah was a grey city, all ancient stone and brooding clouds. The buildings in the main streets were tightly huddled, and many of the canopied walkways on each side had evolved into covered arcades. Narkang was completely different: life took place in the wide avenues, and the streets served as extra space for the hundreds of taverns and stalls.