Tom Lloyd: The Twilight herald

the memory restored Isak's cheer. 'Garner berries, still one of the best ideas you ever had. Never felt so happy at the smell of shit as that day he scratched his cheek and looked west towards Scree, where the surviving White Circle and Fysthrall troops were believed to have fled, 'I think it's going to take more than garner berries to get the revenge I need nowadays.'

Vesna gave a nod. Isak had put off the discussion of how he was King to respond to the White Circle's attempt to enslave him, though he had talked freely since leaving Narkang about what had happened in the abandoned temple in Llehden, and his connection with the while eye, Xeliath. The Yeetatchen girl was something else he didn't fully understand, and another decision Isak knew he would have to make soon. He just had to hope that those closest to him wouldn't become too nervous of the company Isak kept in his mind: the Gods' greatest enemy, and the daughter of a foreign nobleman, one of the Farlan's ancient adversaries.

'A wagon-brat shouldn't have to make this sort of decision,' Isak sighed.

Tila shook her head. 'Better a wagon-brat with some sort of a brain than half of those bred for the job.' Her vehemence took them all by surprise, but Tila carried on regardless, 'Read a history of the Litse sometime and you'll see what I'm talking about. The Farlan have re¬mained strong because of the new blood it brings into the aristocracy. The other tribes might mock us for our rigidity in tradition, but the Litse's biggest problem has always been the fact that commoners can never amount to anything. The ruling elite has always been weak and bickering, while the armies are led by men with the right family background, not any skill at the job. You might not have the training for your title, but we'll rectify that – and at least you don't have the baggage a proud family history always brings.'

'Well, that's very sweet of you to say so,' Isak said with a smile.

'I mean it,' Tila said, ignoring his levity. 'You'll learn what you need to and Lesarl will manage the details, just as he did for Lord Bahl. The most important thing is that you have the strength to make the decisions, and your strength is one thing I'm happy to rely on.'

'So I was bred for the job after all,' Isak admitted after a pause. 'Stronger and bigger than normal men, and unable to have children except with my own rare kind. White-eyes are born to lead, and born to Iack those' family ties you're talking about.'

Tila nodded, 'And you more than others, it appears. Since the battle in Narkang, and what happened at Llehden, you've reminded me of a line from one of the old tribal sagas, when King Deliss Farlan, father of Kasi, the first white-eye, says, "History echoing in his footsteps".'

'Now there's a curse,' Carel muttered, the lines on his face more pronounced as he frowned.

'No it isn't,' she insisted. 'It's a burden, yes, but think of all you've achieved since you left the wagon-train; you've only eighteen sum¬mers and already you've done things that wouldn't disgrace the heroes of myth. White-eyes were created by the Gods to fight and to lead in their names, but most will never have such a marked effect on the Land.'

Isak pointed at Mihn as they approached the waiting horses. 'What about him? He killed the Queen of the Fysthrall, a white-eye, and one carrying a Crystal Skull at that.'

Mihn ignored the finger jabbing towards him, though his eyes took in every detail. The only non-Farlan in the group, Mihn was notice¬ably smaller than the other men, and his nondescript clothes and tidy manner made him easy to ignore sometimes. Only his eyes belied his unassuming appearance; they were too bright and observant, the eyes of a predator.

Isak lowered his hand as Mihn stepped forward to join them, say¬ing, 'A deed that will haunt me my entire life.'

'Why?'

'You are a white-eye, and one born for great deeds; I am not of such consequence to the rest of the Land. The fate of common men who stumble into great events is never so happy.'

Before any of them could contest the claim a voice called out from behind them, 'Happiness is such a relative thing; it's the lack of reward that annoys me.'

Isak jumped, hand closing around his sword hilt as he turned, but in the next instant he recognised the speaker and raised a hand to stop his guards closing. Morghien was looking as dishevelled as the first time they had met, and wearing that same mocking, infuriating smile. his weathered face looked as though the years had been hard on him,

but Isak was one of the few who knew just how supernaturally well the man of many spirits had aged.

'You,' exclaimed Carel angrily, tugging his black-iron scimitar free of THE scabbard as he strode forward. Morghien didn't pull the bat¬tered axe from his belt or let the loaded pack on his back slip off his shoulders but waited beside the shrine and watched Carel come towards him, his expression unchanged.

'You're going to have to be more careful who you sneak up on next time,' ('arel snapped at the man. 'I don't like bloody surprises 'cept on my birthday, so next time you creep up on us my boys will kick seven shades of shit out of you.'

'oh come now, is that any way to treat an ally?' it is nowadays,' Carel said with feeling. He hadn't put his sword up 'In case you're not up with current events, surprises aren't welcome any more.'

'I heard aboutl Lord Bahl,' Morghien said, no trace of emotion in voice or face. 'A shame, but not much of a surprise, with hindsight. Xeliath tells me it was Lord Styrax who killed him. If that's true we have quite a problem on our hands.'

'We?' echoed Isak hotly. 'And which city do you rule that makes it your problem?'

'I don't care for the Lord of the Menin, and if it involves those I call allies and complicates my own plans, I consider it a problem.' Morghien's eyes were fixed on Isak and he remained calm and confi¬dent – until the seconds stretched on and he became aware of Isak, slowly tapping his fingernail against the emerald set into his sword hilt. Morghien frowned, his normal self-assurance wavering slightly.

Under different circumstances Isak would have been pleased to dis¬concert Morghien, but there was little to be happy about here. 'Your friend,' he said, 'the Seer of Ghorendt…'

'Fedei? What about Fedei?'

'We stopped there on the way back – well, we tried to. The guards made it very clear before we even reached the city walls that we were not welcome.'

'Not welcome?' Morghien's face fell. 'Is Fedei dead?'

'We don't know; Ghorendt is closed to outsiders. All we could discover was that it happened the day after Silvernight. As we left the river we found ourselves staring at the pointy ends of a dozen arrows, so we turned back. There was talk of the Seer being trapped behind locked doors, and every mirror in the house being broken.'

As Isak spoke, Morghien's face darkened. 'I know whose handiwork that is,' he muttered,

'Why.' Fedei didn't strike me as a major player in your games.'

Morghien shook his head. 'he wasn't, he's simply a warm-hearted academic with a rare skill, the ability to see the shape of future events.' he broke off, then added, 'Xeliath has told me something of what happened that Silvemight, of the twist in history that occurred.'

'One that was in part thanks to your intervention,' Isak broke in, feeling a little ashamed that he'd not remembered when Carel was threatening to kill Morghien that it had been the wanderer who had given him the key to surviving Aryn Bwr's assault. 'Without you, I don't think I would have survived.'

Morghien waved away the thanks as he stood in silence, frowning at the ground. After a few moments, he came to a decision. 'You can tell me the rest of the story over dinner. We have more to discuss than 1 realised, and perhaps I can shed some light on the mystery of Ghorendt.'