Isak grimaced, but made no further comment. He swept the

sheathed Eolis off the bedpost and fastened the sword-belt about his waist. With one hand resting on the emerald hilt, he cocked his head at Doranei and forced a smile on to his lips. 'Well then, lead on to this hospitality.'

CHAPTER 29

The journey to Narkang was swift and pleasant. The Parian party was carried by luxurious barge down the Morwhent River, accompanied by a merry procession of boats of all shapes and sizes. To Isak's immense surprise, he found the noblemen who welcomed him into their manors each evening to be likeable and open people; King Emin's rule was now twenty years established, but the titles were still held by those who had supported his conquest. In the place of the old nobility the king had installed merchants, ambitious minor nobles and more than a few pirates and smugglers who'd joined the war effort. It was said that Emin Thonal couldn't resist the friendship of an arrogant rogue, though a number of those had found to their cost that the king was not a man whose trust could be abused.

The Farlan saw a vibrant nation, proud of their successes and unashamed that they had no particular one of the seven tribes to call ancestor. It was a long way from how the Farlan liked to think of the 'lesser peoples', but that it worked was undeniable. When they exercised their horses each morning and evening it was with an escort of elite Kingsguard who clearly held the Ghosts up as their benchmark and were keen to prove themselves their equal in horsemanship and sparring. The competitions were good-natured and cheered on by the local people whose adulation of the Kingsguard was marvelled at by the Ghosts. Leaning over the barge's rail, watching the fields sliding past, Carel pointed out that it wasn't only Isak who had something to learn from this nation.

Isak cantered gently up the slope, studying the King's Man waiting for them at the top of the ridge. They were approaching Narkang, so they'd spent the whole morning in the saddle: tradition dictated that Farlan always ride into a foreign city and Isak wasn't about to break

with custom just yet. Doranei had taken himself off that morning, riding ahead of the party to ensure its path was unhindered.

Despite Isak's initial suspicions, Doranei had proved good company as they travelled through the country he loved. The man knew when to talk and when to keep a comfortable silence. The Krann suspected he had a few secrets of his own – perhaps all of the Brotherhood did – and they had taught him the value of silence.

There was a sparkle of spring in the air. A brisk breeze ran over the fields and whistled over the road before shivering through the branches of a bank of ash trees on the other side. Through the trees Isak could see neat rows of crops and a manor house in the distance. Boys lazed on a paddock fence, coaxing horses over to them, while the cattle they were tending drifted aimlessly in the meadow. As Isak and his companions neared the peak of the rise, the wind changed direction and brought the taste of salt from the ocean.

They reached Doranei, who stretched an arm out to present his city.

'Behold, my Lord: Narkang, First City of the West.'

Beside Isak, Tila gasped. A wide, open plain stretched out before them, painted the vibrant green of spring and dotted with dark copses of copper beech and elm. In from the east came the Morwhent, the river that had carried them most of the way to the city, now running wide and slow. A pair of high arches spanned the river to a small island in the centre, which allowed the sandstone city wall to run unbroken even by the river's passage.

From the banks of the river the wall followed the curve of the ground up and around in a gentle undulation to encircle wide regular streets of purple-slate rooftops.

Occupying the higher ground deeper inside was what could only have been the White Palace, its twin silver-capped towers glittering in the sunlight. The lower ground of the western side, where the river entered the city, was hidden by the walls, but a great copper dome shone in the sunlight. Past that, faint in the distance, Isak could see a soaring slender tower that would have been remarkable even in Tirah.

And somewhere even further beyond, vague and grey in the distance, lay the ocean. Isak could feel the immense weight of water lurking at the back of his mind, an old and powerful presence, but comforting nonetheless. The magnificence of the ocean, stretching out to the distant horizon, beyond which lived the Gods, overshadowed even the glory that was Narkang.

A thousand flags fluttered and whipped from the walls of the city, a disordered mix of colours and shapes, and a huge banner hung above the Southern Gate. The banner was almost as large as the massive copper-plated gate itself, and even at this distance, the visitors could easily make out the golden bee with its wings outstretched over the green background.

'It's a fine sight, is it not, my Lord?' continued Doranei as the remaining Farlan soldiers vied for position to take in the view. 'Visiting foreign climes is an easier thing to do when you've Narkang's smile to return to.'

'A fine sight indeed.' Vesna and Carel nodded their agreement. The city was confirmation that Narkang's power equalled that of Tirah, and they all knew it.

As if Narkang was not enough, the low plain in front of the city was a hive of activity. At least ten great pavilions and stands were being erected, while long swathes of tent cloth lay out on the ground, ready to be raised. Hundreds of cut posts lay in stacked piles; cables and ropes snaked all over the ground and a veritable army of people scurried in all directions with wagons and livestock. Flocks of sheep were being herded to the joyful yaps and barks of the hounds protecting them, drowning the calls of the shepherds and those in their path.

The Spring Fair, my Lady,' supplied Doranei as Tila cast him a questioning look. 'It's due to begin in two days, the day before the Equinox. It will be the biggest yet. I believe the entire city will rejoice at your visit, Lord Isak.'

'I see a scarlet banner over there. It's hard to make out, but I'm guessing it's the Runesword of the Devoted?'

'It is, my Lord.'

'And you still think I'll be welcomed by all?'

'I doubt the Knight-Cardinal wishes to make an enemy of you, my Lord.'

'After what I did to his nephew, I hear he wants to make a corpse of me.' Isak laughed grimly.

'His personal feelings are still secondary to the requirements of his office, my Lord,' Doranei said sternly. 'First, there is the fact that you might be the Saviour his Order has been waiting for; second, the Devoted are not so powerful as to openly defy King Emin.'

'Surely the existence of Piety Keep is a fairly obvious point of defiance,' interjected Vesna. The Fortress of the Devoted was jokingly referred to as Piety Keep, a nickname the Order despised. Lesarl had warned them all that using it in Narkang could easily result in big trouble.

Doranei scowled. Isak guessed that he didn't mind about the name, just that politics intruded on the pleasure of returning home. ‘The matter is not quite so simple, but I'm sure the king would prefer to debate it himself.' He broke off as the two rangers trotted up with a third man, dressed like Doranei, right down to the bee at his throat.

Doranei smiled, and said, 'My brother, Veil, has taken word to the king that you have arrived. Royal processions take a little time to get moving. I'm sure you understand.'

Veil didn't dismount, but touched his fingers to lips and forehead in salute to the followers of Nartis, struck his fist against Doranei's and then whipped his horse around to return. Despite the similarity in dress, the man looked nothing like Doranei. Isak thought it a fair assumption that under Veil's long dark hair was another tattooed ear.