‘My name is Dulian Karr.’

Kutch straightened. ‘

Patrician

Karr?’

‘You’re well informed.’

‘Everyone’s heard of

you

.’

‘What’s an Elders Council member doing in a place like this?’ Caldason said. He was at a window, watching the path outside, curtain bunched in his fist. Now he let the drape fall back.

Once more, Karr studied him. ‘You have the advantage of me. You know my name, but -’

‘He’s Reeth Caldason!’ Kutch butted in, adding knowingly, ‘The

outlaw

.’

If the patrician was jarred, he didn’t show it.

It was Caldason who reacted. ‘You’re privy to my business only by chance, boy. I’ll thank you to keep it to yourself.’

The words were like a bolt to Kutch’s breast. Reddening under Caldason’s frigid gaze, he began an apology that faltered and trailed off. A brittle silence took hold.

‘And you must be Kutch Pirathon,’ Dulian Karr interjected, taking pity.

They stared at him.

Kutch stumbled through, ‘How did you know that?’

‘Grentor Domex was one of my oldest friends. He often spoke of you. I had no idea when I came here that he was dead.’

‘All right.’ Caldason showed his palms like a man surrendering. ‘I can see we’re not going to escape your life story. Just keep it brief.’

The suddenly lighter tone, typical of Reeth’s mercurial nature, Kutch was starting to think, made the apprentice feel a little better about the scolding. ‘So, why did you come to see my master?’

‘And why no bodyguards?’ Caldason added.

‘I had a phalanx of them when I set out. Good men, every one. My enemies thinned their ranks until I alone remained. That was why my would-be assassins were armed with no magic worse than a negating glamour.’

‘Yet still you came.’

‘As still you defended me. And for a similar reason, I suspect; I had to.’

Caldason said nothing. He leaned against the dusty table’s edge, arms folded.

‘As to why I came here… Many years ago, a group of like-minded individuals, Grentor and myself included, joined in a common cause. Our passion was to see true sovereignty restored to Bhealfa. To have genuine freedom, not the pretence of it, by getting our tormentors off our backs.’

‘Fine words.’ It was impossible to tell if Caldason meant that cynically.

Karr disregarded it. ‘We were young and idealistic I suppose, but that made the object of our anger no less real. In due course we each took the path we thought best to achieve our aim. I chose politics and talking us to liberation.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Others favoured the military, a mercantile life, even banditry, and some fell along the way. Your master carried on being what he always was, Kutch: a maverick. What is it they say? A square shaft in a round hole. But I’m damned if I know which of us has been the more effective.’ A fleeting reverie clouded his eyes. He gathered himself and went on, ‘I came here with news of the progress of… a scheme. A plan Domex helped conceive and steer over the years.’

‘You had to come personally?’ Caldason said.

‘Few others could be trusted with my report. And I wanted to see him; it had been too long.’

‘What is this plan?’

‘Forgive me. It’s a confidence I can’t share.’

‘So why mention it at all?’

‘You saved my life. That warrants some measure of trust.’

Caldason shrugged dismissively.

Kutch had fallen quiet during their exchange. Caldason noticed his crestfallen expression. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m hearing about a side of my master I never suspected. I mean, I knew he had no love for the state. Now it turns out he was involved in something big. Something

important.

But… I didn’t know. He never told me about any of this.’

‘It was for your own protection,’ Karr replied, ‘on the principle that what you didn’t know couldn’t endanger you. Domex was engaged in a selfless purpose. That’s why they killed him, whatever pretext they may have used. Have no doubts about that. You’ve every reason to be proud of him, Kutch.’

The boy swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. ‘Is it because of this plan of yours that the government wants you dead?’

‘Perhaps. I don’t fool myself that they’re entirely ignorant of it. There are informers and spies enough in the dissident ranks.’

‘That messenger glamour in the likeness of a bird. It was sent to warn you of the attack?’

‘Yes, by associates in Valdarr. I could have wished it had arrived earlier! There’s treachery in my circle, and lately near to hand. But I think it more probable this latest attempt on my life was because I’m a general thorn in the authorities’ side. My death at the hands of apparently common brigands would suit them well.’

‘They’ve tried before?’

‘Several times.’ Karr sounded as though he took pride in it.

Caldason broke in with, ‘Why should they bother killing one of their own?’

The patrician regarded him narrowly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The way I see it you

are

the government, or near as damn. You play their game.’

Karr laughed, half cynically, half genuinely amused. ‘You have a properly jaundiced view of authority. Politics has been my way of challenging the state. I don’t claim to be very effectual, and at best my views are barely tolerated, but it’s what I do.’

‘How much bread does it put in hungry mouths? When does it ever favour the weak over the strong?’

‘You’re right, politics is a fraud. I know. I’ve been a practitioner of the black art all my life. It makes accommodations, turns a blind eye, appeases those who tyrannise us.’

‘That’s rare honesty from your kind. So why bother with it?’

‘Because I believed governance was about the best interests of the citizenry; that the system could curb the excesses of our colonial rulers, maybe even help break their hold. They’ve branded me for that belief.’

‘I’ve heard. They call you naive, militant, insurrectionist, radical -’

‘And they call

you

pitiless.’

‘Depends on who’s doing the calling.’

‘Exactly.’

Kutch said, ‘If it means getting out from under those who grind people’s faces, isn’t radical a good thing to be?’

Karr smiled. ‘Well put.’

‘It was something my master used to say,’ the boy admitted, a little shamefaced.

‘Then it’s to your credit that you honour him by repeating it.’

Caldason shifted, looked down at Karr. ‘This great scheme of yours, it’s some kind of political manoeuvre?’

‘Politics… plays its part.’

‘What are the other parts?’

‘Protest takes more than one path.’

‘That sounds like another way of saying it’s something to do with the Resistance.’

Karr held his gaze. ‘I’m with the Opposition. Others are the Resistance.’

‘They’ve been known to shade together.’

‘As I said, our rulers slander those who stand against them. They’d have people believe all their opponents are terrorists.’

‘Does that mean you think the Resistance are terrorists?’

‘Why, do you?’

‘No.’ He glanced Kutch’s way and added caustically, ‘But then I’m an outlaw, remember.’

‘What’s your point, Caldason?’

‘Any plan meant to really change things would have to involve the Resistance to stand a chance.’

‘I repeat: opposition takes many forms. There are peace-loving witnesses of conscience and priests who disagree with the regime, let alone revolutionaries, agitators, protodemocrats and the rest. Even the Fellowship of the Righteous Blade’s no longer dormant. Did you know they’d reformed?’

‘So it’s said.’

‘Who are they?’ Kutch asked.

‘They’re an ancient martial order,’ Karr told him, ‘founded on patriotism. Their ranks boast some of the finest swordsmen in the land, and they’ve helped keep alive a tradition of valour that was once universally respected. They’ve often appeared in times when this country’s independence was threatened.’