Good thing too; no matter how bad your attitude is you'd have to be a fool not to sense his power.

'Aren't you going to say something?' Koezh said once the girl had gone. 'A delight to see you again? I've missed you? That jacket really brings out your eyes?'

'Don't even know what to call you,' Doranei muttered, wondering what exactly he'd got himself into. Koezh had tolerated him, but nothing more than that – and Doranei was horribly aware that he was the only person in the city not under Koezh's control who knew his identity. Added to that was his mission: to pry into the secrets of Vorizh, Koezh's younger brother.

'How about Osten?' Koezh replied with a smile, 'I'm sure my sister would approve. Shall we get our business out of the way before we start reminiscing?'

'Business?'

Koezh leaned forward and Doranei felt his entire body tense involuntarily.

'You are not drinking your beer,' the vampire pointed out, indicating the tankard. He spoke the local dialect in a precise, slightly stilted manner, a blend of thick Menin consonants and elongated Litse vowels. Doranei might be more fluent than Koezh, but in comparison he sounded like a dockworker.

The King's Man coughed, trying to smother a nervous laugh. Koezh was not a particularly large man, but there was an aura

surrounding him, and that filled Doranei with dread. The sapphire eyes didn't blink as he reached for the beer and took a long swig. A second reduced the tankard to half-full and finally calmed his jangling nerves. Shame there isn't a shot of brandy in this, he thought.

'Business then,' he said for the second time that evening, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 'Want to tell me what you're doing here?'

'Not really,' Koezh smiled. 'You?'

'Perhaps.'

The smile widened a shade further than Doranei would have liked. 'Progress, then.'

'I was looking for your sister.' Doranei said cautiously.

'That is not your reason for being here. As much as I would like to dismiss you as a foolish little boy, you have not tracked her down to play the love-sick puppy.'

'Is she here?'

'In the city,' Koezh conceded, 'but busy this evening. Shall I pass on a message?'

'I have questions I need to ask of her.'

'She is a little old for romantic gestures.'

Doranei hiccoughed at the thought and needed another gulp of beer before he continued, 'You remind me of King Emin.'

'Does that mean you will perform tricks at my command?'

Doranei's eyes narrowed as Koezh's voice hardened. 'Is that what you think of me?'

'Only that you are more brittle and grim now than on that magical night we shared at the theatre.' Koezh leaned back in his chair, one elbow propped on the armrest while sipping his wine delicately. 'Keep your temper under wraps, puppy,' he said lazily.

Good point, Doranei thought, wrong person to get into a pissing contest with. 1 should have left as soon as I saw he was alone here.

'I'm sorry. Today has been a little strange.'

Koezh looked at him enquiringly. 'Stranger than the usual company you keep? Do tell.'

Doranei thought of the half-blind Farlan woman with a shadow's handprint on her throat and a God's blood in her veins. Mortal-Aspect of a dead Goddess. 1 don't want to know what would happen if they met. 'I cannot, not yet.'

'Then tell me what you want to ask my sister.'

Doranei hesitated, He knew perfectly well that whilst they may have been allies of sorts in Scree, that meant nothing now. The Vukotic family were enemies of the Gods and nothing would ever change that, just as no amount of good works would bring them redemption.

'I wanted to ask about your brother.'

'Vorizh?' Koezh sounded genuinely surprised for a moment there. 'What do you want with him?'

'We've heard a rumour,' Doranei said hesitantly, 'of a journal belonging to him.'

Koezh took another sip of wine, all the while looking at Doranei through narrowed eyes. 'A journal? You remember my brother is quite mad, don't you?'

'We do. And that is why I've come to ask why someone might want to read it.'

Koezh pursed his lips. 'All sorts of fools – we are a somewhat notable family, after all.'

'Do you know of this journal?' Doranei suddenly felt the air grow cold around him, the shadows lengthen.

'No. But I will tell you this,' Koezh said softly, his dark eyes gleaming. 'Be careful when you pry into the past. The Great War saw horrors you cannot even comprehend. Some secrets are best forgotten.' He leaned forward. 'You have finished your beer – it is time you left.'

CHAPTER 23

'He's on his way.'

'What? Are you certain?' Certinse looked up, the papers piled on his desk immediately forgotten.

Senior Penitent Yeren nodded absentmindedly as he wandered over to the drinks cabinet, scratching the stubble on his cheek. 'Mebbe hasn't left yet, but he's accepted the invite.' He gave the fat brass door handle an experimental tug and smiled as the door opened.

I shouldn't have left the damn thing unlocked, Certinse thought, taking another sip of Fayl whisky and rolling it around his mouth. Yeren pulled out a decanter of wine and held it up to the light, wrinkling his nose at what he saw. The brute even knows what he's looking for.

Reaching further into the recesses of the deep wooden cabinet he found a rather smaller decanter. This time the pitch'black liquid received a nod of approval. Yeren plucked a glass from the top shelf.

'That's a goblet,' Certinse said. 'The blackwine glasses are on the far left.'

'Yep,' Yeren said, setting the decanter down so he could remove the stopper, 'but they're tiny.'

Certinse rounded the desk with rare speed and removed the goblet from his hand, replacing it with a far smaller one shaped like an opening tulip.

'I don't care. Blackwine isn't for quaffing, or whatever it is your sort do. It is to be savoured,' Certinse said firmly. To his surprise the mercenary didn't argue and filled the glass he'd been handed before raising it in toast.

'How did you find out?' Certinse pressed.

'My men are better couriers than any wet-behind-the-ears novice. Most clerical correspondence goes though us nowadays.'

'Haven't they noticed you're reading the messages?'

Yeren laughed. 'Your lot are bloody stupid, didn't you know that? They know nothing of secrecy. If they declare war on Lord Isak, the Chief Steward will have them for breakfast.'

'A good thing too,' Certinse pointed out, refilling his own glass, 'but before you make too many claims to competence, might I remind you that Ardela ended up not dead, but in the Chief Steward's custody? Lucky for you I managed to make a bargain with Lesarl to deal with her quickly.' He sighed and sat back on the edge of his desk, pondering the news Yeren had brought for a while. 'Every member of the Synod thinks he should be the leader of a glorious religious crusade,' he said eventually. 'I'm amazed they managed to agree in council that he should be invited – whatever his religious status, he's still from another tribe.'

'Well they did, and he is,' Yeren announced, unperturbed. 'You don't want him?'

'Use your brain, man; can you imagine what will happen?'

Yeren grinned. Certinse could smell the alcohol on his breath – not blackwine, but some sort of rough moonshine the soldiers brewed. Qods, he probably can't even taste the blackwine. He's just drinking it to annoy me – and to show he does know what the good stuff is.

'Would be quite a sight if you ask me,' Yeren said.

'And afterwards?'

The mercenary's face fell slightly. 'I see your point.'

'He is coming to Tirah.'

'Are you certain?'

'Of course, you damn fool.' Certinse's voice rose to a high whine. 'The Synod has approved it and invited him openly.'