Vesna didn’t recognise the livery, but it wasn’t much of a surprise: a dark-blue snake coiled around a sheaf of arrows, its head raised toward an occluded moon. They were admitted without a word and entered to find five people standing before the massive ducal throne, the seat of Farlan power.
The throne, hewn from a single piece of dark wood and inlaid with symbols of the Gods, was built for white-eyes. It lacked the intricate detailing found on its equivalent in Narkang. Too heavy for two normal men to lift together and able to resist an axe-blow: everything about it said solidity, strength and permanence — and the blue-skinned Demi-God Fernal suited it perfectly.
At the sight of the new Lord of the Farlan Vesna was reminded of Lord Bahl. Fernal wore plain, loose breeches and a white linen shirt over which spilled his mane of dark cerulean fur. The last time they had met Fernal had been wearing only a tattered cloak, replaced now by one of blood-red, to show he too mourned Isak. But it was the silver circlet on Fernal’s crumpled brow that gave Vesna the biggest start.
He had to move quickly to catch up with General Lahk and kneel before the bastard son of Nartis, barely remembering in time to unclip his sword from his belt and offer it forward. As he did so, Vesna cursed his own stupidity. He’d had weeks to get used to the idea of Fernal being named the Lord of the Farlan, but still the sight of Fernal wearing a ducal circlet had tripped him.
Fernal still had trouble with the rolling vowels of a dialect unsuited to one with the teeth and tongue of a wolf, but his deep, booming voice was that of a lord all the same.
He looks the part, he sounds the part, Vesna thought as he returned his sword to its usual place. Now we just need to find out how much he’s willing to fight for the part.
‘Lord Fernal,’ the pair said in response, for the benefit of the envoy as much as tradition.
‘General, I’m sure you have much work to do dealing with your troops,’ Fernal said. ‘If you wish to leave and see to them please do so.’
Lahk bowed and left as smartly as he had arrived. He had no interest in the dealings of politicians.
Vesna glanced at the others in the room. His eyes went first to Tila — it had been all he could do not to seek her out immediately, but he knew the envoy would have been watching and any deviation from tradition would have been noted. When at last their eyes met he felt a weight lift at pleasure which had blossomed on her face.
Tila wore a plain white dress, and her luxuriant dark hair had been swept to one side and wrapped in a red mourning scarf embroidered with a prayer for the dead, one of the few in the Palace to have done so. The period of mourning was technically over, but it was traditional for the army to mourn until it had returned; Vesna guessed Tila was doing the same.
The envoy himself was a knight Vesna didn’t recognise, despite being of a similar age; he too had battlefield honours tattooed on his neck. He bowed respectfully to Vesna while Chief Steward Lesarl, looking older and more fatigued than Vesna had ever seen, gave him just the briefest of nods.
Behind Lesarl were two armed men who looked like neither noblemen nor soldiers; each was carrying a rapier and long dagger, the weapons of a trained duellist, and Vesna guessed them to be agents of the Chief Steward. Curiously enough, they flanked Lesarl rather than Fernal, suggesting they were there to protect him rather than their lord.
‘Count Vesna, your own business will have to wait until we are finished here,’ Fernal said as the door was shut behind Lahk, ‘unless there is anything you wish to say first?’
Vesna shook his head. Fernal was asking whether he still considered himself a subject of the Lord of the Farlan. ‘No, my Lord, I await your pleasure.’
‘In that case, Sir Jachers here was just outlining the position of the Farlan’s westerly dukes.’
‘Both of them?’ Vesna asked sharply, looking at the envoy.
The Dukes Lokan and Sempes rarely agreed on anything since Lokan had poisoned his uncle — Sempes’ distant cousin — to take the dukedom, and their ‘disagreements’ had resulted in one sea engagement