over things or around people,’ he added as he strolled off the dock and onto the first solid ground he’d seen for weeks. ‘They generally get the hell out of my way.’
He led her on foot through the city, the streets gently rising as they neared the centre. As darkness fell, wheeled conveyances were allowed onto the streets, but Kael never stepped out of the way of a single one. He watched with amusement as one poor man nearly drove into a wall to avoid him.
He frowned in thought as they approached the Academy, which had the effect of making a couple of small children cry.
The Academy, occupying more horizontal space in the city than any other institution, stood concealed behind high walls and permanently manned gates. Kael strolled up to the main door and used the hilt of his sword to pound on it.
A voice from behind it said, ‘It’s the middle of the night!’
One of Kael’s men sniggered.
‘Lad, I don’t think that’s what you’re meant to say, is it?’ Kael said. ‘Especially since it’s barely past twilight.’
‘Admittance ends at twilight,’ said the voice. ‘It might as well be the middle of the night. You’re too late, you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay tonight, and Sir Flavius will be—’
‘Shut up, lad,’ Kael said amiably, and slid his sword back into its sheath. It made a silken sound, which caused the voice on the other side of the door to go silent.
‘No. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to ask me my name, and then you’re going to open that hatch and check I am who I say I am, and then you’re going. To swiving well. Let. Me. In. Understand?’
‘Er … yes, sir. What is your name, sir?’
Kael took a deep breath. ‘Lord Kaelnar Vapensigsson ex Krullus Militis Viscus Saraneus Drax.’
There was a pause while the voice on the other side of the door processed this.
‘You might know me better as Krull the Warlord,’ he added, and the hatch shot open.
He smiled at the young man revealed there. It wasn’t a nice smile.
The door was dragged back in a hurry and Kael strolled right in without looking at the boy. Ishtaer kept pace with him, her gaze appearing as though fixed straight ahead. She wore a long cloak with the hood pulled up, but the light from the Academy’s torches clearly showed the mark on her face. She looked unexpectedly regal in the firelight.
‘Will, er, you all be coming in, sir—my lord?’ asked the boy, dancing around the squad as they marched into the outer courtyard.
‘No. My men will be returning to the ship,’ Kael said without turning to look at them. His men knew when they were getting an order from him. ‘Just me and the lady will be coming in.’
‘Er, yes, my lord. And can I take the lady’s name?’ the boy asked, reaching tentatively for a clipboard.
‘Tyro Ishtaer ex Saraneus Medicus Militis Aspicio prior Inservio.’
He wasn’t sure what made him add that last part. She might not be happy with him when she found out what it meant.
The boy scribbled it down, eyes wider with every cognomen Kael uttered. When he mentally translated the victory name his head jerked up and he stared at Ishtaer, who thankfully couldn’t see his naked shock.
‘Tell the council I want to see them tomorrow. And find a room for us.’
‘My lord, I’m sorry, but they’re only single rooms. Single beds, I mean.’
‘Lad, I’m Krull the Warlord. I want a room with a double bed. And my own water pump. You’re going to find one for me. Understand?’
‘Er … yes, my lord. Er … wait here, please.’
The boy ran off, and Kael noticed with mild interest how he had an awkward gait, one he’d only seen before on men with one leg.
‘Back to the ship,’ he told his men, and they saluted him, fist over heart, before turning and wheeling back out onto the street. Damn, even after weeks at sea they marched in formation.
‘Makes a warlord proud,’ he said. ‘Right then, Ishtaer. Here we are. When that damn fool
He led her on foot through the city, the streets gently rising as they neared the centre. As darkness fell, wheeled conveyances were allowed onto the streets, but Kael never stepped out of the way of a single one. He watched with amusement as one poor man nearly drove into a wall to avoid him.
He frowned in thought as they approached the Academy, which had the effect of making a couple of small children cry.
The Academy, occupying more horizontal space in the city than any other institution, stood concealed behind high walls and permanently manned gates. Kael strolled up to the main door and used the hilt of his sword to pound on it.
A voice from behind it said, ‘It’s the middle of the night!’
One of Kael’s men sniggered.
‘Lad, I don’t think that’s what you’re meant to say, is it?’ Kael said. ‘Especially since it’s barely past twilight.’
‘Admittance ends at twilight,’ said the voice. ‘It might as well be the middle of the night. You’re too late, you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay tonight, and Sir Flavius will be—’
‘Shut up, lad,’ Kael said amiably, and slid his sword back into its sheath. It made a silken sound, which caused the voice on the other side of the door to go silent.
‘No. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to ask me my name, and then you’re going to open that hatch and check I am who I say I am, and then you’re going. To swiving well. Let. Me. In. Understand?’
‘Er … yes, sir. What is your name, sir?’
Kael took a deep breath. ‘Lord Kaelnar Vapensigsson ex Krullus Militis Viscus Saraneus Drax.’
There was a pause while the voice on the other side of the door processed this.
‘You might know me better as Krull the Warlord,’ he added, and the hatch shot open.
He smiled at the young man revealed there. It wasn’t a nice smile.
The door was dragged back in a hurry and Kael strolled right in without looking at the boy. Ishtaer kept pace with him, her gaze appearing as though fixed straight ahead. She wore a long cloak with the hood pulled up, but the light from the Academy’s torches clearly showed the mark on her face. She looked unexpectedly regal in the firelight.
‘Will, er, you all be coming in, sir—my lord?’ asked the boy, dancing around the squad as they marched into the outer courtyard.
‘No. My men will be returning to the ship,’ Kael said without turning to look at them. His men knew when they were getting an order from him. ‘Just me and the lady will be coming in.’
‘Er, yes, my lord. And can I take the lady’s name?’ the boy asked, reaching tentatively for a clipboard.
‘Tyro Ishtaer ex Saraneus Medicus Militis Aspicio prior Inservio.’
He wasn’t sure what made him add that last part. She might not be happy with him when she found out what it meant.
The boy scribbled it down, eyes wider with every cognomen Kael uttered. When he mentally translated the victory name his head jerked up and he stared at Ishtaer, who thankfully couldn’t see his naked shock.
‘Tell the council I want to see them tomorrow. And find a room for us.’
‘My lord, I’m sorry, but they’re only single rooms. Single beds, I mean.’
‘Lad, I’m Krull the Warlord. I want a room with a double bed. And my own water pump. You’re going to find one for me. Understand?’
‘Er … yes, my lord. Er … wait here, please.’
The boy ran off, and Kael noticed with mild interest how he had an awkward gait, one he’d only seen before on men with one leg.
‘Back to the ship,’ he told his men, and they saluted him, fist over heart, before turning and wheeling back out onto the street. Damn, even after weeks at sea they marched in formation.
‘Makes a warlord proud,’ he said. ‘Right then, Ishtaer. Here we are. When that damn fool
Similar Books
