Revulsion flooded her face and Isak felt a sudden pang of guilt. The count nodded to Isak and took Tila gently by the elbow, but she pushed Vesna away, muttering curtly that she could manage, and turned her back on the pair of them. The door slammed behind her. Isak's eyes stayed on the quivering oak for a moment and then he looked up at Vesna. The count shook his head and turned back down to the training field.

'She'll get over it – she's a delicate girl, that's all. Killing isn't a way of life for her; even soldiers tend to have an opinion on murder.'

'But- '

Vesna held up a hand and Isak let the sentence die unsaid. 'You two are close; she forgets, as I do, that you are a white-eye. It's hard to remember that you're different, and hard not to judge. Give her time to be angry, then I'll go and speak to her. She'll remember that she loves you by this evening.'

'Loves me?' The remark caught Isak by surprise, but Vesna only chuckled.

'Of course, my Lord, but only as a brother. I suspect you love her like a sister, you've just never known the feeling enough to give it a name. Certainly I hope – ' It was Vesna's turn to flounder now, blanching as he realised he could have been dangerously wrong. To his intense relief, he hadn't.

'Don't worry,' Isak said, 'I've seen you two together. It's actually a relief – one less concern in my life.'

'One less concern?' Vesna could not hide his incredulity, but Isak merely smiled and wagged a finger in admonishment.

‘Now you're forgetting I'm a white-eye again. Think about it, my

faithful bondsman: in less than a year my life has changed beyond recog-

nition. The Gods only know how many people are actually planning to kill me, let alone those who would like to. Not even the greatest wizard pretend to fully understand the gifts I've been given. I murdered a man last night for a cause I have only a vague grasp of, without seeing actual proof. Trying to understand my feelings, or Tila's, would just…’ Clearly Vesna understood, so he left the sentence unfinished.

'But are you not disappointed that-' Vesna looked up to the sky, wondering how to phrase it without sounding condescending.

'Perhaps a little, but lacking something I've never known? I don't think white-eyes are made for regrets. Anyway, enough of this. How are the preparations for our little jaunt to Narkang going?'

'Well enough, though of course there's been no time for the messenger to even get to King Emin. We'll be off within the week, I think. Two horses arrived this morning from Siul, fine beasts, both of them, or so the stablemaster tells me – the best he's seen in years, he claims. We'll go and see them once we're finished here. I've picked the escort, Tila's chaperone has presented her requirements-'

'Chaperone?'

Vesna laughed. 'Oh yes. You forget that Tila's father is an important man in the city. For her to travel to foreign parts in the company of soldiers… well, her mother is less than impressed, but I've informed Lady Introl that it is your specific command. I think she was mollified somewhat when I mentioned that Tila would be your political advisor in all negotiations with the Kingdom of Narkang and the Three Cities.'

'But is the chaperone to ward off the attentions of the uncivilised white-eye, or the notorious Count Vesna?' Isak smiled and sat up, tugging at the lead-coated armour with a slight groan. 'So how many are we going to be?'

'Well, an escort of thirty soldiers and two rangers to scout for us, you, me, Mihn, Lady Tila and the battle-axe who's going to carry Tila's make-up, and Carel. Thirty-eight in total.'

Isak lifted the shoulder plates over his head and tossed them to the ground. 'That's too many – we'll be too slow.'

'Our speed will be dictated by Tila's chaperone and the availability of riverships, not numbers. She's the wrong side of forty summers, and I doubt she's much of a horsewoman.'

'Then I'll leave her behind,' declared Isak. 'She'll ride well enough when she sees us disappear over the horizon.'

'My Lord, some day we really must teach you about diplomacy, Vesna drawled, an amused smile on his lips.

Isak made a face. 'Lesarl told me about it – don't think I want to associate with that sort of thing.'

'Ah. Like "tact" and "manners", is it?'

Isak beamed. 'Exactly. Now, how long is it going to take us to get to Narkang?'

Vesna sat down a few steps up from his Lord so they could speak on the same level. Mihn came and stood at the foot of the stair, his body angled slightly towards the training ground, close enough to be part of the conversation while still on silent guard. Mihn was obviously not simple – minded, but he was certainly monosyllabic.

'With luck, less than a month. There are several stages we're planning to do by river – one will take us to Nerlos Fortress, on the border, another should cover much of the Tor Milist territory we'll have to pass through, and I believe a third could take us much of the last stretch to Narkang itself – but only a few vessels are large enough to carry so many horses, so we'll have to throw money at the

captains.'

'Less than a month?' Isak was pleased. 'Hardly any time at all – by wagon it would take the best part of half a year, I guess. I've never met anyone who's done that route, but that's one of the reasons we're going, I suppose. Lesarl is going to brief us on everything tonight, including the disputed lands we'll have to travel through, but Bahl thinks that my gifts will dissuade attack rather than encourage it.'

The Lord's right. I doubt any of them have the numbers to trouble us. The Ghosts have a fearsome reputation, and there'll be little more than brigands where we're going. Alone, we'd see off double our number of horsemen, more of foot soldiers; with your growing skills and magic, I can't see anyone putting enough men together to get anywhere.'

They were interrupted by the door behind them slamming open and the three men turned to see Carel making his way down the worn steps. 'Isak, there's a seamstress looking for you,' he called.

It looked like Carel had just come from seeing a tailor himself. He wore a long elegant coat the colour of fresh grass, trimmed in sable, with gold-chased ivory buttons. Only the white clay pipe in his hands harked back to former days, but even that was new.

‘What's this?' cried Vesna. 'Don't tell me we might get our master to look rather more like a nobleman of some substance?' It was a source of constant amusement to the count that Isak had chosen to dress like the hermit lord they served.

Isak made an obscene gesture as he replied, 'I didn't summon one, what does she want?'

'I believe she was summoned for you – by Tila, I assume.' He pointed with his pipe to the soldiers Isak had been training with. 'She had some maids with her, all carrying bundles; I think they're uniforms for your guards.'

'Uniforms?'

'Of course. We can't have them in their usual colours when you meet King Emin.' As Carel spoke the door opened again and a flurry of white linen burst through, talking rapidly before the door had even fully opened. The men backed off in the face of such bright and busy determination.

'My Lord Isak, at last I've found you. Now, these are not entirely completed and we have the riding garments coming later, but I have the armour drapes for your men. If you could ask them to form up here I'll start my measurements.'

Isak stood there bemused for a moment, staring down at the ruddy face wrapped in a spotless white headscarf. The seamstress might have been dressed like a servant, but she had the poise of a duchess. Despite Isak's huge height, he found himself wilting under the sheer force of that impatient stare. Behind her stood five maids, each with a wicker basket clasped tightly to their chest and eyes fixed firmly on the woman at their head.