That evening, Isak found himself out in the walled garden again, staring up at the hunter's moon at its zenith. The memory of Brother Hobble, struggling with his crutch and scowling down at the ground, had haunted him all day. Clearly he had not forgiven Isak for the injury, divine retribution or no, and Isak certainly couldn't blame him for that: constant pain and the end to his life as a Swordmaster were hard things to forgive although that the latter must have been the man's own choice, knowing Swordmaster Kerin as he did. It was the heroes of war who gained Farlan t.i.tles and fame, and there were dozens of men who'd found their place in the Land through being a champion of the Ghosts.

'Contemplating the futility of existence, my Lord?'

Isak whirled around at the unknown voice, Eolis flashing from its sheath. The silver blade glowed in the moonlight as a man stepped from the shadows with a chuckle. A sword remained sheathed on his back while his hands were held out in Farlan greeting.

'With such gifts, who could lead a futile life?'

'Who are you?' Isak tried to make out the man's face. He wasn't Farlan; his lighter hair and darker complexion made him look more Western, if anything. His dress was dark, functional, reminding Isak of the King's Men of Narkang. Not quite a soldier, and more than one.

'I am Ilumene.' There was a pause. The man stood with the ghost of a sardonic smile on his lips. Isak had the oddest sensation, that Ilumene was not just a King's Man, he could be King Emin's son though of course he could not be, as he was some thirty summers old, and Queen Oterness was well noted for having failed to produce an heir... but this man did have every ounce of Emin's mocking arrogance.

'For a man who seems to like the sound of his own voice, you've gone suddenly quiet,' Isak said. 'If you don't want me to run you through, perhaps you would care to explain yourself in a little more detail?'

The edge in Isak's growling voice served only to widen Ilumene's smile. The man had two scars on his otherwise handsome face, on the left-hand side. One skirted the ridge of his eyebrow; the second was a jagged cut down the outside of his cheek.

'I am of the Brotherhood.' Ilumene gave a chuckle and turned his head to the right to give Isak a better view of his scar. 'But as you can see, my duties have not left me unsullied.' The base of his earlobe that would have carried the Heart rune had been torn away by the cut. When Ilumene pointed at his ear, Isak saw a network of criss-crossing scars on his hands, as though the man had been dragged through a bramble bush of steel thorns.

'Strange that you didn't appear when Morghien was here.'

For an instant Ilumene looked genuinely shocked. 'I didn't know Morghien had been in the region. Come to think of it, I didn't know you and he were known to each other. It seems I have much to catch up on. When did he leave?'

'Today, this morning.'

'I'm surprised he didn't wait then; I've not seen him for a long time. I was starting to wonder whether he could sniff us out I can't remember how often he's stepped out from behind the only tree around on a deserted stretch of road.'

Isak relaxed a little. There may have been something odd about Ilumene, but he'd not liked all of those Brothers he'd met in Narkang either the tall, blond one with a scar all the way down the side of his face, Beyn; King Emin and Doranei were confident of his loyalty, but there was something about the man's face that Isak didn't care for. I suspect it's just because he has a white-eye's arrogance, he thought, being honest with himself.

As it was clear that Ilumene did know Morghien, and Isak was certain the wanderer wasn't one for casual acquaintances, he sheathed Eolis.

Ilumene stepped a yard closer so they could speak normally.

'Well, I suppose that also answers how you got past the guards,' Isak commented. 'I hope you didn't hurt any of them.'

Ilumene gave a small smile. 'One will have wounded pride when his comrades find him, but nothing more. King Emin may encourage many unsavoury traits in his men, but a love of killing is not one of them.'

Though Ilumene spoke with a smile, there was an edge that left Isak with a slight frown. Most of the Brotherhood were respectful of their king to the point of reverence; Ilumene sounded like he was on more familiar terms with Emin. Maybe, Isak reflected, it's because they're so similar. His brief time in Narkang was enough to realise King Emin was not hot on excessive formality if it were not necessary.

Isak broke the brief silence. 'I take it you were here for a reason?'

'There is always purpose in my master's actions.'

And in your choice of words? Isak wondered. A p.r.i.c.kle ran down his neck, but he refused to let it show. The man was playing a game, trying to unsettle Isak but could he expect anything less of King Emin's friend?

'And that purpose is?'

Ilumene shrugged. 'I was to give you a message, though I do not pretend to understand everything behind it. King Emin is secretly travelling to Scree, the Brotherhood his only guards it was thought that you should know.'

'Scree? Why? What's happened there?'

'I intend to leave tonight to find out more. The message was short; there was no s.p.a.ce for explanations. I have heard a rumour about a monk fleeing his monastery and hiding in Scree.'

'A monk? What could a monk have done to make Emin hunt him down personally?' Isak was genuinely confused. 'And in Scree, no less? I'd have thought a White Circle stronghold was the last place Emin would want to go.'

'Unless he considered it important enough,' Ilumene corrected him. 'I have the impression the king will not be the only one hunting the monk.'

'What could a monk have done to attract that sort of interest- no, wait, let me think: if a monk has done something wrong, he gets a.s.sa.s.sins sent after him. If King Emin is going himself, the man would have to be a mortal enemy or have something the king wants personally. An artefact of some kind, perhaps?'

'A reasonable a.s.sumption,' Ilumene conceded, 'but truly, I can tell you no more. And now, I must be on my way.'

'Wait,' Isak said as Ilumene turned to leave, 'why did he send the message? Because he wants me to not lay siege to Scree? Or does he want me to get involved?'

'The king did not give me a reason, but I'm sure he would appreciate you pursuing a more subtle revenge than the wholesale destruction of the city if he is inside it. I cannot say if he wants you involved; if the king required your presence, I'm sure he would have summoned you.'

Isak growled, disliking the implication that he was at Emin's beck and call. 'Then your king might have to be more careful about what he takes for granted,' he snapped.

Ilumene bowed in acquiescence and disappeared into the shadow of a laurel. Even with his remarkable hearing, Isak couldn't hear the man leave. It was as though he simply faded into the darkness.

Scree? What could possibly lure King Emin there? He looked to the south, where he fancied he saw the faintest of lights on the horizon. He had a sudden, desperate urge to know what the King of Narkang was up to.

'Home first,' he reminded himself. 'Everything else can wait.'

CHAPTER 6.

Zhia hurried across into the shade of the high-pillared porch, her thick shawl pulled low over her face to hide her from the scorching afternoon sun. Her coachman, Panro who doubled as guard and servant, and once, on a particularly dull day in Narkang, lover closed the coach door and climbed back up on the seat. He wouldn't bother going far; it was unlikely the Red Palace would see any more visitors during the short time Zhia intended to stay. Scree waited drowsily for evening, when the sun's ferocity would lessen; shops and stalls were shut up and even the most diligent of tradesfolk sought some shady corner or dark hallway. Zhia couldn't help smiling; the unusual summer heat had proved an unexpected bonus. In Scree everyone would be sleeping during the day, so her nocturnal life was less likely to draw notice.

Zhia paused and savoured the light breeze that greeted her through the tall panelled doors, scented with sweet roses and orange trees from somewhere within. A man dressed in a dark brown livery stood waiting for her, his head bowed. No member of the White Circle would come and greet Zhia; the custom was for visitors to be presented once they had made themselves presentable. This was particularly useful for Zhia, for any errant ray of sun would blacken and burn her skin.

'Mistress Siala has been informed of my arrival?' she asked, snapping her fingers at the liveried man. Her Fysthrall dialect and mannerisms were impeccable.

'Yes, Mistress Ostia.' The man kept his head bowed as he spoke. 'I am to escort you to her office immediately.'

But why? thought Zhia. She leads the White Circle now the rest of the leadership is dead, I made sure of that. Does she simply want an account of their failure? Or did she know that the Fysthrall queen carried the Skull of Paths with her? I think I was sensible to leave that in the carriage; she wouldn't think to search that, but she might well have a mage up there with her.

The servant was waiting patiently for a reply. When she did finally jab a finger towards the inside of the palace he bowed low and moved to lead the way. As she followed him down the hall, she saw the red theme continued inside as well. Outside, the painted pillars, window frames and doors were distinctive, even arresting, especially when seen from a distance. Within, the colours looked garish and cra.s.s, and incongruous with the elegant furnishings, which were far too sophisticated for anyone local, especially the duke Siala had recently deposed. Siala was apparently from Tor Salan, but until she met the woman there was no way of telling if the sophistication was hers. Zhia hoped so; the rest of the Circle had hardly taxed her brain, and an intelligent adversary would make her stay in Scree infinitely more entertaining.

A large open staircase took her to the second floor and she looked carefully at the high windows. It wasn't often that she dared venture out during the day, but when it was necessary, she took every precaution.

Siala's study faced the head of the stairs. The door itself, flanked by blank-faced Fysthrall soldiers before whom the servant cringed, hadn't been spared the scarlet ravages of Scree's previous ruler; the faces on the four carved panels had been stained red and detailed in gold leaf. To her right, Zhia noted a pair of male functionaries sagging when they caught sight of her, apparently aware that she would be admitted ahead of them.

'Mistress Siala is just concluding a meeting,' the servant at Zhia's side murmured, and at her curt nod, he fled.

The door did indeed open a heartbeat later, and to Zhia's complete astonishment a man dressed like a country minstrel strode out of the room with all the confidence of a king. Over a dirty green tunic he wore a gaudy gold chain with bejewelled coins laced through it hanging down to his navel, and a feathered hat was caught under one arm. His tanned, pinched face and narrow nose suggested southern origins. His skin was as grubby as his clothes.

Tor Salan perhaps, or Embere? Now what would Siala be doing meeting with a dirty foreign minstrel? Her train of thought stopped dead as Zhia realised the most remarkable thing about the man was that the gold chain was not costume jewellery. Now I know all I need to about Siala, Zhia said to herself. The minstrel had a deeply satisfied look on his face, one that might not have been there if Siala had paid enough attention to the gem-encrusted coins hanging off that chain. But what does it tell me about this man, dressed like a vagrant musician, standing like a king and wearing a king's ransom around his neck?

'Lady,' the minstrel acknowledged, bowing with a flourish after he had taken the time to scrutinise her as carefully as she had him. The accent suggested something of the south as well, but no place she could identify.

Not 'Mistress', though; he almost seems to recognise me. Could that be possible, or has the heat just got me fl.u.s.tered? 'Have we met?' she snapped.

'Unfortunately not, for you are new to the city, no? But if you seek your entertainment under cover of night, I am sure your presence in Scree will be to my profit.' The minstrel bowed. 'Now if you will excuse me, gracious lady, I must away.'

He didn't wait for permission but trotted off down the stair without a backwards glance while Zhia frowned. Who was he? He said 'under cover of night' but did he actually recognise her?

'You must be Ostia,' declared a voice from inside the study. Zhia resumed an expression of placid innocence as she swept in to the room. Behind a desk stood a tall, slim, striking-looking woman dressed in white silk; some fifty summers of age, Zhia guessed, though her face had weathered the pa.s.sing years well. To her right were two others, sitting together on a narrow chaise longue, but Zhia sensed neither was a mage and ignored them. It was the remorseless gleam in Siala's eye that had caught her attention. The woman stood perfectly still, taking in every detail of Zhia's appearance. You don't look like a fool, thought Zhia, a little scornfully. You know how to deal with minor sisters like Ostia, I'm sure, but that could simply mean you're a well-born bully. What lies behind the make'Up and fading beauty, anything of value?

'I am, Mistress Siala,' Zhia replied gravely, her hands clasped to her chest and head inclined slightly. Four peaked windows behind Siala spread a carpet of golden light into the room.

'Please, sit,' Siala said, nodding to a chair bathed in the warm sunlight.

'If it doesn't offend you, I would prefer to stand,' Zhia replied calmly. She recognised Siala's intention, to make her hot and uncomfortable as she was questioned though the effect on a vampire would be rather more than merely uncomfortable. She stood behind the high-backed chair and arched her back theatrically. 'I'm afraid all this travelling has knotted me up quite dreadfully. It would be a blessing just to be able to stand straight for a while.'

Siala conceded and directed Zhia's attention to the two attendants on the chaise longue. They rose at Siala's gesture. One woman was dressed like a common soldier, but with a rapier on her hip. She had the long, p.r.o.nounced features of a Deneli tribeswoman. She gave Zhia a broad smile as recognition flashed in both faces.

'May I introduce you to Haipar, who is acting as representative for a group of mercenaries we have employed.'

'As a matter of fact, we've already met,' Haipar said, pushing back her whitened hair. Her other hand rested on her sword hilt. Zhia ignored her; the blade was just for show. Haipar would not have been hired for her skill with a sword, but for her rather more brutal talents and if she were representative of the mercenaries they employed, Siala had definitely bitten off more than she could chew. Zhia noted that despite being banished from her clan years ago, Haipar still brushed ash into her hair, as though trying to look as old as she actually was. It could have been a day since they last met, rather than the decade it was.

Siala arched her eyebrows. Zhia said nothing, but she shifted her weight, ready to leap for the door if Haipar gave her away. Fighting her way out of the Red Palace might be messy if some of her comrades were also around, but none were Zhia's match, even without the Skull.

'We once shared an employer,' Haipar said after a moment. 'Ostia was acting as political advisor, while I- Ah, I helped with certain matters of security.'

And thus I can personally testify to the efficacy of your employee's talents,' Zhia said with a smile, relieved at Haipar's utter lack of loyalty. 'I would have been in significant danger, had it not been for Haipar.'

'Ostia flatters me; she had quite a firm grip on events, as I recall,' Haipar replied, a calculating glint in her eye.

Siala watched them both, a slight smile hovering on her lip, before moving on. 'The young woman next to Haipar is Legana, who has recently been persuaded to join the Circle.'

Legana, a startlingly beautiful woman of Farlan origin, said nothing but offered Zhia a brief bow. She was dressed as if for a formal hunt; her light jerkin of bleached chamois leather, though detailed in mother-of-pearl, was clearly functional.

No doubt you'd wear a man's clothes if you could, Zhia thought to herself. Dear me, Lesar! hasn't grown any more subtle with age, has he? Any fool could tell she's ideal for recruitment to the Circle so didn't they even question it! That girl looks just a little too beautiful and a little too dangerous to be the innocent she would have us think.

'Legana, Haipar, if you would wait outside?' Siala's voice broke into Zhia's musings. 'Mistress Ostia and 1 have business to discuss.'

Zhia felt Siala's eyes on her back as she turned to watch them leave.

'Ostia, you appear to be rather more experienced than 1 had realised,' Siala began as the door closed. '1 would not have expected you to run in the same circles as Haipar not with her savage reputation.'

Zhia restrained a smile. Oh, if you only knew, you foolish little girl, she thought, but said, 'You know what Haipar is, then?'

'1 do or at least, 1 have heard stories of her kind. Considering the predicament the Sisterhood finds itself in, we are in need of such fearsome reputations.'

And yet you wouldn't welcome mine. 'That may be, but mercenaries like Haipar are notoriously difficult to control,' Zhia said softly. 'Their value on the battlefield is undeniable, but they can prove tiresome at other times.' She left her comment to sink in and changed the subject. 'Might 1 ask about the man with whom you were just meeting?'

'Who? Oh, the minstrel.' Siala gave a dismissive wave. 'Just the leader of some travelling players with a request.'

'just a travelling player,' Zhia echoed, 'yet he managed to secure I meeting with you? I'm impressed that you find time to sleep if you deal with every sc.r.a.p of business yourself.'

'Of course I don't, but the man had persuaded an official to request an audience on his behalf.' Siala paused, her eyes becoming slightly vacant and gla.s.sy. For a moment, Zhia thought the woman had been enchanted, then she recognised it as puzzlement. 'A strange one, but persuasive. Certainly suited to the stage. I found his voice quite hypnotic'

'And his request?'

'The request? Nothing important. The minstrel wanted to use condemned criminals in one of his plays to make an execution scene real.'

'And your reply?' Something was troubling Zhia: she of all people had few qualms about killing, and she knew full well how best to please a mob, but the man wore an augury chain, and augury chains were not trinkets for the vain. Whether it had been a test for Siala, or something else, there was something more going on. 'Did you allow it?'

'Yes. Do you disapprove?' Siala glared, daring a challenge to her authority.

'Not at all, it was mere curiosity. The man intrigued me.'

'Why?'

'He wore an augury chain, not costume jewellery, but a real one,' Zhia said, interested in Siala's reaction. 'I would guess that no more than a hundred have been made in the last two millennia. The com-plexity, the materials augury chains are incredibly expensive. That a wandering minstrel has one...' Zhia shrugged. 'What was his name?'

'Augury chains?' Siala looked blank. 'I've never heard of them. He called himself Rojak; he has rented the sunken theatre between Six Temples and the Shambles.'

'Rojak?' The name meant nothing to Zhia. 'If circ.u.mstances allow, perhaps I will take in a show after all.'

'Well, before you do,' Siala said brusquely, annoyed that she had been diverted from her intended subject, 'please tell me what happened in Narkang. The few reports I've had have been patchy at best. It appears you were the only sister of any importance to survive.' Her calm facade slipping, she leaned across the marble desk. 'Is it certain the queen of the Fysthrall died? Were you there?'

Zhia had perfected the look of innocence thousands of years before Siala had been born. Now she knew what Siala wanted to know, and Siala's careful scrutiny would bear no fruit.

'I was not present at the queen's death, no,' she began, a touch of regret in her voice. 'She had a.s.signed me as handler for the pirate Herolen Jex she had little faith in his intelligence and thought it best to have regular updates.'

Siala hid her disappointment. And your escape from the city?'

'When the attack failed, the city was chads. I found myself in the company of two local mercenaries and once I proved to them that I'd be useful to them alive and problematic to kill we fled together. I must a.s.sume we were fortunate, for I remember little beyond those frantic periods of running and hiding, and killing those in our way.'

She watched Siala's face as she added, 'We stole some horses and my modest magic was sufficient to keep us hidden from pursuers.'

'And what of the events in the jousting arena?'

'Is there much to know? They had captured the Farlan Krann and were going to bond him to the Queen's service as planned once he was awake. I cannot tell you whether they underestimated his strength, or if King Emin got a rescue party through I do know the attack was antic.i.p.ated, not the complete surprise our agents had led us to believe, so the king may well have been prepared.'

Zhia watched emotions flicker in Siala's eyes and felt a moment of amus.e.m.e.nt. Scree's new ruler was obviously desperate to find out about the Crystal Skull. Possession of the Skull would doubtlessly confer complete control over the White Circle for someone with enough strength of mind, it might even grant authority over the entire Fysthrall tribe, if she ever ventured beyond the eastern mountains to where they had been banished.

The strongest of the Fysthrall had taken part in the attack on Narkang, all those people gambled away in a desperate attempt to fulfil a prophecy, the key mistresses and warleaders lost when Lord Isak called down the wrath of Nartis. The White Circle would not recover its strength in Siala's lifetime, and those that remained this side of the mountains, already divided between cities, would soon discover they had few allies outside their strongholds. The Farlan were not known for their forgiving nature.

'Were we betrayed? Is that how he antic.i.p.ated the attack?' Siala whispered.

Her thoughts were still on the Skull, but she couldn't ask more without inviting suspicion and curiosity, and Zhia was certain the existence of the Skull was not a secret she'd want to share.