Tom Lloyd - The Twilight herald

Morghien cupped the hound's whiskery muzzle in his hand and wiped a trace of sleep from the corner of its eye with a deft movement. 'I've not visited the Yeetatchen for a reason. They don't like outsiders

– they are a most inhospitable people.'

'Do you think I would be more welcome?'

Morghien shrugged; there was no need to comment. Isak shifted a little to see the man's face a little better, prompting a reproachful look from the dog, now wedged against his hip. Stroking the grey fur, Isak wondered what he needed to say to persuade Morghien. Mihn had accepted the charge easily, as he accepted any order from Isak, but that was because the penance Mihn had imposed upon himself for failing in his life's calling appeared to include indulging the whims of a white-eye, no matter how ludicrous. The journey would be long, hard and dangerous – the Yeetatchen were notorious in their dislike of all outsiders, not just Farlan.

'It's not a political delegation – if Lord Leteil discovers why you're there, he'll kill you both, along with Xeliath.'

'You are sure of that?'

'He's a white-eye, isn't he? Xeliath has a Crystal Skull, and if he finds out about that I can't see any other possible outcome, can you? It's not going to be easy, but I am quite sure you could think of some-thing that might compensate you for the trouble.'

'Rewards are no good to a dead man,' snorted Morghien. He ran a hand through his own grey hair, as rough and wiry as the dog's coat.

'Don't die then!' Isak snapped back. 'You've managed it thus far! I wasn't offering you gold – though that's easily given if it's all you want

– I assumed you'd want some sort of a favour in return.'

'You assume you have something I want,' Morghien replied coolly.

'Correct. I don't know exactly what your relationship with King Emin is, but I know you've got plans for the future, and I suspect my involvement would be helpful. Just what you are up to is your own business – for the time being, at least. I'm caught up in quite enough plots as it is.' He sighed. 'I assume it has something to do with Azaer, so I think we would both benefit from our alliance.' He felt rather than saw Morghien tense at the name.

The dog whined as Isak pulled himself to a seating position. His massive body cast a shadow that almost completely enveloped the wanderer. 'Decide now whether you want my friendship or not. Emin already has, but I've yet to decide which one of you is truly in control of whatever bargain you two have going. I suspect you were – Emin said you met before he took over Narkang, and that happened when he was my age – but that man's too clever to still be taking anyone's orders for long. So enough of the games. I need this of you. Will you do it?' Isak spat in his hand and held it out.

After a moment of consideration, Morghien did the same and they shook on the strange bargain. Despite the warmth of day, Morghien's leathery hand felt chill to the touch.

'If we must go, let it be soon,' Morghien called to Mihn, who was standing in the shade of the doorway. 'Storm season on the Green Sea isn't much fun. If we have a ducal warrant from you, Lord Isak, then we can be ready to leave tomorrow.'

Mihn nodded at that and walked over to join the two men. He too had stripped down to just a thin shirt and Isak could see how slender he was, all sinew and whipcord strength. It was no wonder Harlequins could hide their gender so effectively if even the men were so slim. They looked androgynous, and many thought them not even human, for their talents could appear almost supernatural. The Harlequins were trained from birth; they carried in their memories the history of all the Seven Tribes of Man, and they could mimic the speech of each of them.

'Mihn, you've been travelling for weeks,' Isak said. 'At least take a break before starting out again. I'm sure there's time.'

Mihn shook his head. 'Morghien's right. Better to leave as soon as possible. I will be ready by tomorrow morning. A ducal warrant will mean we don't need to carry much in the way of supplies, we can requisition what we need en route. Give us fresh horses and we can be off.'

Isak's own heart sank at the thought of getting into the saddle again; he was astonished that Mihn was willing to just up and go, especially as he wouldn't be back in Tirah before winter paralysed the country.

But it was his fault they were going in the first place, now he would have to let Mihn and Morghien do it their own way.

'You're both as stubborn as each other,' he groused. 'Fine, if that's how you want it, so be it. You leave tomorrow.'

The return of the hawkers led to lunch, followed by an afternoon of summer games. Isak found himself as delighted with the small jokes made at his expense by normally reserved matrons as with the children who enlisted the huge white-eye in their own entertainments.

Summer was a time for relaxation for the Farlan nobility, and as the season was short, and too often occupied by campaigning, any opportunity for socialising was met with added gusto, a spirit of liv¬ing Isak hadn't experienced before. He'd never even imagined people could live like this when he had been working every daylight hour with the rest of the wagon-train. From the duty of the lord of the manor to present, on bended knee, a bowl of wild strawberries to any female child amongst his tenants on her birthday, to the highly juvenile Feast of Apples that made most soldiers' drinking games look sensible in comparison: the Farlan nobility took summertime amuse¬ments seriously. To his surprise, Isak loved it all.

That afternoon, he found himself kneeling on the grass with three whooping children, young relatives of the countess, balanced on his broad back. Vesna and Tila were standing close together, fingers inter¬locked, watching.

'Of such things are the most perfect childhood memories made,' said Vesna, grinning.

'Absolutely,' agreed Tila with a laugh. 'Within four summers they'll be horrified when they remember clambering over Lord Isak, let alone how they bit the duke on his white-hand!' She giggled as Isak stretched out an arm so the boys could swing from it, as if it were the branch of a tree. With a roar, a little girl lunged for the arm as well, struggling to dislodge the boys. Isak could almost imagine that he was playing with Tila's children while she and the count watched on in parental approval. As he tickled the girl, provoking squeals of laughter, Isak grinned as he realised that for the next few weeks he could have a childhood of sorts, one denied to him in the past. The impositions of adulthood would return all too soon; for now, it was summer, he was surrounded by friends and the sun was shining.

Groaning, Isak swung himself into his saddle. Though the morning was a little cooler, Isak still found his new dragon-emblazoned green tunic uncomfortably warm, but he would look the part of a duke as he saw Morghien and Mihn off. As it was customary for the Saroc house¬hold to accompany those leaving for the first hour of their journey, the suzerain had decided to turn this into a visit to the nearest town.

Red oak-leaves embroidered all the way up Isak's left sleeve drew attention to the exposed skin of his hand, but he couldn't deny the overall effect. With Eolis hanging from a bright red swordbelt and scarlet leather boots, Isak looked more like a Farlan noble than he ever had before. Only the white cloak around his shoulders ruined the image a little, but they had officially proclaimed Bahl's death now, so every person in the party wore similar cloaks, embroidered with ancient symbols of mourning. The women wore white scarves, and would keep their hair covered for the fortnight of mourning.

'I must say, Countess, your seamstress has surpassed herself,' com¬mented Tila as Isak wheeled Megenn around.