Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

'Do you remember me, my friend?' he said softly.

'We fought side by side,' Isak whispered.

At last he raised his head. Emin had to struggle to retain his composure as he finally saw the young white-eye's face, not just the many gruesome scars, but the pain in his eyes.

'We did,' Emin agreed calmly, offering his hand to Isak and slowly standing. The white-eye didn't take the hand, but he followed Emin's movement. 'It was an honour to do so,' the king continued, looking up at Isak.

Isak's cheek twitched at the word 'honour' but he looked Emin in the eye all the same. 'There is no honour in my shadow,' he said sadly, 'only daemons.'

'We may need daemons soon enough, my friend. There is terrible work ahead of us. I pray you bring us the answers we need.'

'Prayers,' Isak agreed mysteriously, 'I bring prayers – but it's the prayers you hold that we need.'

Emin frowned. 'I'm not sure my prayers will be welcome – in fact, I'm quite certain they're not.'

'It's the prayers you hold,' Isak repeated.

As he straightened a little, his unfastened cloak swung open to reveal the unmistakable hilt of Eolis, tucked through his belt, and a small leather bag, which Isak was holding.

The shape of the bag made Emin hesitate, and almost unconsciously he touched a similarly shaped item hanging from his own belt. He gestured to the open door.

'Come. We need to speak more, and in private.'

Isak, Mihn, Coran, the witch and Legana followed Emin inside, but Doranei held back. Veil gave him a questioning look, but he ignored it and after a moment his Brother indicated the door be shut behind them.

Doranei didn't speak, but reached into a pouch and pulled out his leather cigar case. Veil produced an alchemist's match and held it up. When the initial burst of black smoke had subsided, Doranei put the cigar to the flame and drew on it until it was alight.

'The presence of great men,' Doranei said at last, looking at the top of the keep. He'd stayed here once, as part of the king's retinue.

It was an unlovely construction, built by a local tyrant three hundred years previously, more for practical reasons than for architectural elegance. Once it was open to the elements; now it was partly roofed-over, and there were long banks of shutters on two sides of the square to allow light in.

'Had enough of it at last?' Veil said. There was no condemnation in his voice.

Doranei still scowled, even as he agreed. 'Never meant to get into it in the first place.'

Veil chuckled. 'Aye, the master-thieves in the Brotherhood always laughed at you for never looking where you put your feet. Sure you can keep out of things so easily?'

Doranei watched the lamp-light in the highest room grow brighter. 'I got to try.'

The sight of Morghien recovering some of his old passion had sparked an ache in Doranei's heart. I just want to do my job again, serve my king. All this 'grand scheme of things' is beyond me; I'm just a simple Brother. Can't I leave it to someone else again?

He sighed and puffed away at his cigar, the distraction greatly welcome.

But how do I go back to a time before I called lords 'friend' and vampires something more? he wondered.

Above the keep the clouds raced, indistinct, looming shapes in a darkening sky. The breeze freshened, carrying a scent too faint to recognise, and yet it put him in mind of the peppery smell of a summer storm… but left him uneasy, in the way the promise of rain didn't.

'What do you think he's going to say?' Veil asked after a long while.

'I don't even care,' Doranei said sulkily. 'They can tell me to kill, or to steal, for the good of the nation, and that's my duty. They can't make me want to get more involved.'

'Could be worse,' Veil said cheerily. 'Cedei had to spend the day keeping General Daken busy and out of the way. I tell you, that bugger can sniff trouble out better'n a dog after a bitch on heat. The king's kept this from him, as you might guess – last thing we need is two bloody white-eyes gettin' under each other's skin.' He plucked the cigar from Doranei's unresisting hands.

The pair stood together for a quarter-hour or more, sharing the cigar as Veil patiently stood guard and his friend, eyes half-closed, stared into the night sky. The sounds of the army camp had returned to normal: the clatter of cooking pots and bellowed orders overlaid by the clump of boots on dry, packed earth. They washed over Doranei without effect as he closed his mind to everything but the clouds overhead, losing himself in their swift, silent passage. He let the breeze sweep away the tangle of his thoughts, dissipating them like smoke.

Then the door to the tower opened again and the Brothers saw Mihn staring fixedly at Doranei.

Mihn had removed his cloak and pack. He wore his customary black linen trousers and tunic. The failed Harlequin was a short, slim man, especially compared with the men of Narkang, and that difference was highlighted by everyone around him wearing armour. It was somehow hard to believe how capable Mihn was – until you saw him moving with purpose, Doranei thought.

'You want something?' he said eventually.

'You,' Mihn said. 'We have some questions for you.'

Doranei felt his hand tighten. 'Of course you do.' He carefully handed the stub of his cigar to Veil and followed Mihn. 'Don't suppose I'd be lucky enough you'd be asking about swords and the like?' he said dryly.

Mihn hesitated and looked back at Doranei for a few moments. Then, his eyes twinkling in the darkness, he started up the stair again.

'I am sure King Emin could phrase the question in terms of your sword, if that would help,' he murmured.

Doranei sighed.

Doranei slept poorly in the humid night air. Words and faces danced on the edges of his consciousness, questions and memories colliding uncomfortably. Some part of him sensed the bedroll underneath him, and the pack he was using as a pillow, but at the same time he could feel the cool, clean sheets of Zhia's bed in Byora.

The sensations mingled and added to the mess of confusion in his dreams, and everything was dominated by Zhia's darkly glittering sapphire eyes. The questions continued, voices speaking at once: Mihn's soft lilt, King Emin's crisp, aristocratic tone, and they were all asking about those sapphire eyes.

Can she be trusted? Where do her allegiances lie? Will she take sides?

He couldn't answer any of them. In his dreams his tongue swelled, making speech impossible, but even if he had been able to speak, there was nothing he could say, no assurances he could give.

An unexpected chill shivered down Doranei's spine and he jolted awake, heart hammering and dread slithering across his skin. The room was dark, and as he sat up his head cracked against the underside of the dining table under which he'd been sleeping. A deep thump reverberated around the room as Doranei fell back onto his bedroll, gasping.

'Told you,' whispered someone nearby.

It took Doranei a few moments to focus as he winced and rubbed his stinging head. When the stars cleared he saw Veil, watching him owlishly from the other side of the table.

'Told me what?'

Veil grinned. 'That you wake up sudden-like sometimes, so maybe under a table ain't the best place to sleep.'

Doranei looked around at the rest of the dining room: a long, ancient hall – older even than the keep – that had been incorporated into the newest wing of Moorview Castle. Apart from the huge, empty fireplace there was precious little space not occupied by dozing King's Men. He opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated, remembering the strange sensation that had woken him.

'Thought I heard something,' he said at last.

'No, you didn't,' Veil said. 'You'd have a sword in hand if you did. You dreamed you did, or some girl with sapphire eyes just reached out and touched you.'