you’re right. Come on, it’s time to meet the herald of our latest woes; you’re going to hate her.’
‘A white-eye lord’s daughter?’ Lesarl scowled at the ground as he started off at Isak’s side down the street. ‘I think you’re right there.’
CHAPTER 4
Lesarl left his lord to his thoughts as they walked back through the quiet streets, winding their way through dark alleys until they had reached a better district of the city than the docks. The Chief Steward had to walk quickly to keep up with Isak’s long stride, but he was glad for it, for the air was chill and his prominent nose and cheeks felt like icicles. In all his years of service to the Lord of the Farlan, he’d never got used to the cold of Tirah’s night-time streets.
It was strange to see the city so deserted. Hunter’s Ride and the Palace Walk were main thoroughfares, usually only empty when snow lay thick on the ground. The tall stone buildings were dark and silent, with only the occasional pair of shutters showing a glimmer of light at the edges - night-watchmen’s billets and servants’ quarters, for the merchants’ townhouses were as dark as if they were empty, with no light seeping through the heavy drapes that hung at every window to keep in the heat.
A pair of Palace Guards loitered on Irienn Square, the semi-enclosed plaza off Hunter’s Ride which was surrounded by government offices. Their sharp eyes picked out Isak by his height. They saluted, making no move to intercept them.
It wasn’t long until they reached the fountain at the centre of Barbican Square, just before the looming presence of the palace walls. After the enclosed streets the open ground felt even colder, and when Isak stopped in front of the statue on the fountain, what little heat was left in Lesarl’s body felt like it was bleeding away as he obediently took up his position in his master’s lee.
White-eyes! They’re all the same when they’re brooding , Lesarl thought, suppressing a shiver as the image of Lord Bahl came to mind. It’s not taken him long to adopt that role. If I ever dreamed of ruling when I was a child, I know better now. I didn’t know then that it scars in ways you could never predict; Lord Bahl once said that his soul felt worn thin, so thin it was hardly there. After Scree I think this one’s the same already. Let’s just hope it doesn’t prove his undoing too.
‘A year, only a year,’ Isak rumbled from the shadow of his raised hood.
‘Since you came this way for the first time?’ Lesarl replied. ‘Almost exactly, yes, my Lord.’
He left it at that, knowing that the white-eye wasn’t asking for a conversation. Instead he turned his attention to the fountain itself. He passed it every day, and it struck him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly looked at it. It was a representation of Evaol, a minor Aspect of Vasle, God of Rivers. The scattering of coins in the fountain were likely nothing to do with her alignment, though, probably just whores hoping for a little luck.
The statue itself was of a column of water reaching up to the waist of a bare-breasted woman, who was running a fish-spine comb through her hair. Rain and wind had taken their toll on the pale stone, blurring some lines and leaving their own on the work. He resisted the urge to stamp some warmth back into his feet, but an involuntary shiver caught Isak’s eye and woke him from his thoughts.
‘Sorry, Lesarl, I’m keeping you out in the cold.’
‘My Lord, that is one of the responsibilities of the high position I enjoy,’ Lesarl said, keeping the reproach from his voice, though he knew he would have to explain the point yet again to his lord.
‘That doesn’t mean you should have to suffer because of my constant whims.’
‘Yes, actually, it does, my Lord,’ the Chief Steward said firmly. ‘My remit spans every suzerainty and aspect of Farlan life, unmatched power within the tribe. However good and loyal a servant you
‘A white-eye lord’s daughter?’ Lesarl scowled at the ground as he started off at Isak’s side down the street. ‘I think you’re right there.’
CHAPTER 4
Lesarl left his lord to his thoughts as they walked back through the quiet streets, winding their way through dark alleys until they had reached a better district of the city than the docks. The Chief Steward had to walk quickly to keep up with Isak’s long stride, but he was glad for it, for the air was chill and his prominent nose and cheeks felt like icicles. In all his years of service to the Lord of the Farlan, he’d never got used to the cold of Tirah’s night-time streets.
It was strange to see the city so deserted. Hunter’s Ride and the Palace Walk were main thoroughfares, usually only empty when snow lay thick on the ground. The tall stone buildings were dark and silent, with only the occasional pair of shutters showing a glimmer of light at the edges - night-watchmen’s billets and servants’ quarters, for the merchants’ townhouses were as dark as if they were empty, with no light seeping through the heavy drapes that hung at every window to keep in the heat.
A pair of Palace Guards loitered on Irienn Square, the semi-enclosed plaza off Hunter’s Ride which was surrounded by government offices. Their sharp eyes picked out Isak by his height. They saluted, making no move to intercept them.
It wasn’t long until they reached the fountain at the centre of Barbican Square, just before the looming presence of the palace walls. After the enclosed streets the open ground felt even colder, and when Isak stopped in front of the statue on the fountain, what little heat was left in Lesarl’s body felt like it was bleeding away as he obediently took up his position in his master’s lee.
White-eyes! They’re all the same when they’re brooding , Lesarl thought, suppressing a shiver as the image of Lord Bahl came to mind. It’s not taken him long to adopt that role. If I ever dreamed of ruling when I was a child, I know better now. I didn’t know then that it scars in ways you could never predict; Lord Bahl once said that his soul felt worn thin, so thin it was hardly there. After Scree I think this one’s the same already. Let’s just hope it doesn’t prove his undoing too.
‘A year, only a year,’ Isak rumbled from the shadow of his raised hood.
‘Since you came this way for the first time?’ Lesarl replied. ‘Almost exactly, yes, my Lord.’
He left it at that, knowing that the white-eye wasn’t asking for a conversation. Instead he turned his attention to the fountain itself. He passed it every day, and it struck him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly looked at it. It was a representation of Evaol, a minor Aspect of Vasle, God of Rivers. The scattering of coins in the fountain were likely nothing to do with her alignment, though, probably just whores hoping for a little luck.
The statue itself was of a column of water reaching up to the waist of a bare-breasted woman, who was running a fish-spine comb through her hair. Rain and wind had taken their toll on the pale stone, blurring some lines and leaving their own on the work. He resisted the urge to stamp some warmth back into his feet, but an involuntary shiver caught Isak’s eye and woke him from his thoughts.
‘Sorry, Lesarl, I’m keeping you out in the cold.’
‘My Lord, that is one of the responsibilities of the high position I enjoy,’ Lesarl said, keeping the reproach from his voice, though he knew he would have to explain the point yet again to his lord.
‘That doesn’t mean you should have to suffer because of my constant whims.’
‘Yes, actually, it does, my Lord,’ the Chief Steward said firmly. ‘My remit spans every suzerainty and aspect of Farlan life, unmatched power within the tribe. However good and loyal a servant you
Similar Books
