CHAPTER 26

The further south they travelled, the more winter lost its edge. Nights were cold, especially when they slept on board the riverboat, but the familiar bite of snow in the air was gone. The Parian felt summer on the horizon as they left the shadow of the mountains and crossed wide empty plains. Narkang lay to the south-west, but they had no intention of going near either Vanach, which had strict religious laws too easy to break unsuspectingly, or Tor Milist – no one knew what reception Isak might get there.

Instead, they travelled on the river that marked the border between Tor Milist and Scree for much of the way. There was a small risk of trouble, but their party was well able to deal with any problems they might encounter.

It was strange to wake without a mountain somewhere on the horizon, but the presence of the early morning sunshine more than compensated. The sight of thin wisps of cloud above, all edged in gold, brought a smile to Isak's lips. He began to remember the pleasure to be found out in the wilds. With the warm memory of Xeliath in his head and friends surrounding him, Isak found himself enjoying life more than ever. Only the lingering memory of what the dark-skinned girl had said troubled him, even though he had determined not to worry any more about it until he reached Narkang and the brightly shining King Emin. Still he couldn't quite shake off the feeling of unease.

As they skirted Tor Milist's official border, those they met reported that the civil war had started up again in earnest. Duke Vrerr had suffered two minor defeats already that year, though he had barely escaped with his life, it appeared the rumours of his death had been exaggerated. The duke had placed an enormous bounty on the head of the witch Lefema after her attempt on his life, but so far, no one

had claimed it. The peasants hated their Lord with a passion, for he was already appropriating people's crops – at this rate they would have nothing to store up for the winter.

And court gossip was passed on too: a Chetse mercenary was providing plenty of talk amongst the gentlefolk of Tor Milist, for he had apparently succeeded in cuckolding the notoriously jealous duke.

'I can believe that well enough,' Vesna commented as they relaxed in the common room of a dockside tavern they had graced with their presence.

'And why's that?' Tila's expression went unnoticed.

Vesna stared at his drink and scowled at the bitter aftertaste. 'Well, I went there as part of the negotiations over the last border raids, a famous name to distract the duke.'

Isak smiled. Vesna hadn't admitted to Tila all the reasons for being sent on such missions: no only did men tend to get distracted when the famous adulterer was around, but Vesna had been trained by the best poisoners in the Chief Steward's employ. Many negotiations had been swiftly resolved by the timely passing of an obstructive old man.

'I met the duchess only once, but she-' Now he caught sight of Tila's face. 'Ah, I mean- Well, you know what they say about the Chetse…' The count's brain caught up with his mouth and he shut up.

'No,' said Tila, innocently, 'what do they say?'

'I, er… they say-' He looked around the smiling faces and scowled. 'Oh leave me alone, I never went near the woman, despite her offers. She smelled so bad I couldn't bear being in the same room.'

Carel gave the downcast count a pat on the shoulder, but Vesna got up and headed for the door.

'I think it would probably be quicker to just ask him which women he has gone near,' Carel told Tila, a merciless grin on his face.

Tila could see why the count kept his first name from everyone, even his friends. 'And I think you should keep quiet, old man,' she snapped back. 'At least Count Vesna's trying to be respectable. You're the one encouraging him – not to mention throwing all your money at trollop barmaids.'

The laughter was less raucous now: the guardsmen filling most of the bar weren't going to risk enjoying themselves too much at their commander's expense. In any case, Tila had a treacherously good memory for those with a sweetheart at home and a local girl on their lap. Since she'd had to give in to Isak and use a normal saddle, Tila's tongue had been sharper than ever and the men trod carefully around her.

Carel snorted and turned away and Tila stormed off to join Mistress

Daran at a table away from the increasingly rowdy soldiers.

'So you're goin' south to the borderland from here, my Lord?' asked the barkeep hesitantly, taking advantage of the lull in conversation.

Isak turned to look at the man. Just for a moment his temper flared as he recalled all the inns like this he'd been excluded from in his old life. Then the memory of the shadow took over, and he grimaced at the thought that still his life was not his own.

The barkeep began to sweat as Isak glared at him, twisting a grimy cloth tighter and tighter around his pudgy hands. 'Do you normally let white-eyes in here?'

'I- Er, well, some o' tha mercenaries we get in these parts, it don't matter whether they're white-eye or no. Duke Vrerr pays for men who'll follow any orders and that al'ays bring scum – men as'll kill

you soon as look as you.'

'So you think I'm respectable enough for your establishment?'

'My Lord?' enquired Carel, sternly.

Isak kept the terrified barkeep frozen to the spot for a moment longer, then shook off his bad mood. He acknowledged Carel's admonishment and tossed a gold coin on to the bar.

'I'm sorry. Please, keep the beer coming. If you have brandy, then you look like you could do with one yourself.'

The man looked down at the coin with suspicion, then nodded and swept it cleanly into his apron pocket. 'Thank you, my Lord. Will you be wantin' a bottle yoursel'?' He was obviously still uncomfortable,

but gold was gold.

'Yes, thank you, and we are going south through the borderland, if that's what you call the disputed lands south of here – why? Have you

heard anything?'

'I- Well, nothin' new. But you might like to know they're a touchy breed south o' here. They fight Tor Milist and Helrect if either tries to claim the region. They see a lot o' soldiers passin' through, so a uniform they don't know, like them dragon badges, you'll get arrows every step o' the way. They'll prob'ly leave you alone if you dont boast your colours – and if you're goin' nice and slow and obvious-like

towards Ghorent. That's the heart o' the borderland and some respec' to'ards the town should see you left in peace.'

Isak nodded and muttered his thanks, then touched Carel on the arm and indicated he was going out to speak to Vesna. Carel nodded and turned to watch one of the guardsmen's efforts to engage Mistress Daran in conversation. Their evening amusement frequently revolved around a bet on who could draw the chaperone into an obscure argument and how long it could be strung out – that woman did like to argue once she had a glass or two of wine in her. So far they'd managed to conceal the actual betting from Tila.

Out of the corner of his eye Carel saw Mihn follow Isak outside. He smiled: at last his boy had friends, and ones who'd watch out for him at that. It was just what Isak needed, some friendship and reassurance in his life. But he still lay awake at nights worrying about how long it would last. Isak would always be a white-eye. Even if they stopped him looking for trouble, trouble would still find him one day.

A curtain of pink washed across the eastern sky as dusk closed in. A long tear just above the horizon glowed ruby-red and to the west, towards the Gods, the sky was dark and forbidding. The bloody shard seemed to be pointing out the group's direction; the Gods ignored them. Behind them, in the north, a mass of clouds were ready to sweep down over the plains and pound them with sleet. The boats were waiting for them on the river, but Ghorent itself was still half a day's travel over the floodplains. More than once over the last few days, parties of bowmen had appeared at the side of the river to watch them pass. They were in no doubt that their passage was being carefully monitored.