'Lord Isak, this is Commander Brandt of the City Watch. I know you have your Ghosts, but it will be Commander Brandt's responsibility to ensure they are not required. You have the freedom of the city, but I'm afraid you might find a rather troubled Brandt trotting along behind.'

Isak smiled. That made sense: Commander Brandt might have started out as one of the ambitious noblemen of the Kingsguard, but he'd obviously had the shine rubbed off by years of chasing criminals. 'He's young to be Commander of the Watch,' Isak commented. There was a tense pause and then the Krann grinned at Brandt. 'I assume that means he's good at his job, so I'm delighted to have him on hand.'

Relief flushed over the commander's face. At King Emin's gesture, the Krann made for the litter with the largest bearers. Most of them had a half-naked man at each corner, their skin oiled, jewellery hanging from their ears and about their necks. Each bearer had curious leather thongs hanging from their wrists. As Isak stepped towards his litter he saw four more bearers move up discreetly to share the weight.

Tila had warned him that litters were the normal choice inside the city walls, but Isak doubted that the bearers had ever had someone of his weight. He tapped the edge of the frame before sitting down, glad at least to feel a strong metallic frame under the cloth. Satisfied the litter at least would bear him, Isak made himself comfortable.

The bearers allowed him a moment to settle, then carefully wrapped the leather thongs about each handle and lifted. A slight grunt came from one of the men, but none wavered. The man on the back-right corner checked his team to make sure they were not about to drop one of the most powerful men in the Land, then they stood ready while the rest of the party did likewise.

Mihn ignored the litter and stationed himself on Isak's left, steel-shod staff held as a walking stick. A small bag hung from his shoulders, tied tight to his back so the book and scroll it contained would not restrict his movements in case of trouble. Commander Brandt took up his station on Isak's right. His hand rested on the rapier at his hip; his eyes checked out every other figure in the courtyard.

King Emin waited until his guests were sorted before he climbed

into his own litter, then the whole procession set off, quickly finding a natural rhythm. They shuffled with surprising speed, out under

the peaked arch and into the city. Each litter had a thin bamboo

framework hung with silk so the passenger could draw a curtain and

block out the city, but Isak was far too interested in seeing Narkang.

Tirah was a grey city, all ancient stone and brooding clouds. The

buildings in the main streets were tightly huddled, and many of the

canopied walkways on each side had evolved into covered arcades.

Narkang was completely different: life took place in the wide avenues,

and the streets served as extra space for the hundreds of taverns and

stalls.

It was hard to see much of the buildings surrounding the palace, but Isak got the impression that most were centred on large open courtyards. Gates opened as they passed, people crowding outside to watch the royal procession. There were fruit trees laden with blossom, clay tiles and colourfully painted shutters on the tall windows: they all combined to make the city look bright and friendly – an appearance that belied the iron bars crossed over every accessible window.

'Commander, I hear you have a simple job policing this city,' Isak said, leaning forward slightly.

Commander Brandt gave a snort of laughter, but as he opened his mouth to retort he caught the smile on Isak's face. 'In what way, my Lord?' he asked, anxious to hear the young Lord's reply.

'Well, if Narkang is all controlled by the Brotherhood then surely whenever a crime has been committed you just arrest one of the leaders.'

Brandt laughed, but Isak saw him stiffen too. The mention of the Brotherhood had triggered the reaction Isak was seeking.

'It's not quite so simple,' the commander said. 'The Brotherhood might have great influence over what happens here, but it's still a long way from controlling all activity in the city. I think that if it tried that, the leaders might well wake up to find Coran explaining how this would not be an entirely good idea.'

'Coran?' Isak asked, then he recalled, 'Ah yes, the king's bodyguard. Tell me, do the Devoted have a significant presence here?'

Brandt opened his mouth, but said nothing – maybe he didn't know what to say. He looked over the crowds, looking for distraction to excuse himself, but saw none. Reluctantly he returned to Isak, who was waiting impassively. 'They do, my Lord. The Knights of the Temples are far older than this kingdom, and in some part it has been the maintenance of those links that has prevented all-out war in these parts, not just recently, but for hundreds of years.'

'So they're popular then?' Isak's tone was cold.

The commander understood, and ignored the question as best he could.

They are traditional, Lord Isak – that's perhaps the best way to describe it. In some families boys grow up knowing they are expected to join when they leave childhood. The Knights that rule the cities are sometimes seen as overly strict, perhaps, but they have strong sympathisers among the ruling families.'

'And your own?'

Brandt frowned, but didn't hesitate to reply. 'Certainly in my family. My father was a member, my elder brother, Suzerain Toquin, is a major in the Order. My sister is married to a colonel, who may one day be vying with my brother for the post of Knight-Cardinal.'

'And you?' Isak wondered whether the king was playing a game, setting a Knight of the Temples to guard him.

'My father didn't bother with me. I was too far down the line of succession. He thought a watchman might be of more use to the family than a priest. Not that I regret it; I'm truly married to this city and the laws that keep it. That, I think, is enough ambition for any man.'

Isak nodded, lost for a moment. It was easy to envy Commander Brandt if he spoke the truth: he knew his city, and loved it like a mistress. He could see his purpose and pursue it; his successes and failures were clear and immediate. Isak lacked that luxury. He'd never even

seen most of his nation. The flag, the tribal characteristics clear in a man's face, the Farlan dialect – were these things enough for someone to love? Wars had been started over nothing more than one man's fits of pique – did it even matter what was real under the weight of history's tide?

'An ambition fit for any man,' Isak agreed at length, and with approbation. Now he lay in silence, wondering about the course of his life, playing with the ring he wore on the middle finger of his left hand: a shaped tube of silver an inch long engraved with his Crowned Dragon crest. Farlan men did not generally wear signet rings, ever since Kasi Farlan, young and impetuous then, had lost his temper with the older and more skilful Koezh Vukotic. He had lost his little finger and signet ring in the subsequent duel.

'Commander, do you have a son?'

The man looked startled at the question, but answered, 'Yes, my Lord. My eldest is a boy, nine winters.'

Isak pulled the ring from his finger and held it out to the man who, after a slight hesitation, took it. He inspected the engraving.

'Give this to him,' Isak said. Tell him to look at that dragon when he wonders what the future holds – and not to dream too hard. Tell him never to forget that he's just a man, like any other.'

The commander tucked the ring carefully into a pocket before re

plying, 'My Lord, that's good advice for anyone – a boy of nine or a

king.'

Isak nodded sadly, unable to meet the commander's gaze.