‘I appoint myself nothing, but like it or not, I carry the spark that binds us. There are only a few of our sisters here yet, but several have been permanently affected by the death of Fate. Those who were praying at the time of her murder were harmed in the mind and they need the protection of their sisters. I intend to gather as many as I can and take stock. Only then will we be able to find our way forward. Only then will we have a chance to find a new purpose.’
The old priestess pursed her lips as she thought. No doubt she was wary of everything since the death of their Goddess.
‘You don’t need to decide now,’ Legana continued, ‘come with me to the castle and meet the others. They would be glad of a priestess here.’
She gestured for them to follow and turned towards Camatayl Castle. After a moment she heard footsteps. Though she set a slow pace, Legana walked alone, feeling their eyes bore into her back with every step.
When she reached the castle Shanas, one of the devotees she had first arrived with, ran up and informed her that King Emin had been looking for her.
‘I thought as much,’ Legana said, gesturing at the activity within the normally sleepy courtyard. ‘He will soon have need of us.’
There were hundreds of men in the castle now, soldiers and workmen alike, the latter labouring to erect new buildings within the embrace of the castle walls: temporary barracks for the troops that would soon be passing through the area. A few regiments were already camped up against the outer walls, along with a large number of messengers. Flying from the main tower were half a dozen flags now — another two had been added during the day.
‘My sisters,’ she said, rounding on the devotees following her, ‘I’m needed elsewhere. Shanas here will take you to the others. King Emin had granted us rooms in the gate-tower — it’s not much, but as you can see, space is limited. His hospitality isn’t charity, and if you wish to stay it will be on my terms.’
‘And what are those?’ demanded the priestess.
‘Use of what skills we possess,’ Legana said, ‘and a guarantee from me that his secrets will be kept. I advise you not to test that; the devotees here have already made their choice.’
Before any of the four had the chance to argue Legana turned her back on them and headed for the main tower. There were now green-and-gold liveried members of the Kingsguard posted throughout the castle, but she was admitted without challenge and made her way up to the room where she’d first discussed a bargain with the king. This time he barely even looked up as she entered.
King Emin had chosen Camatayl Castle as his base of operations for the coming year, leaving his queen and newborn son in the relative safety of Narkang. He wore a ceremonial version of the Kingsguard uniform and a hat to match it that looked gaudy even to Legana’s weak, greying vision.
‘What about there?’ he asked the man beside him, a decrepit old relic in a faded uniform.
The man’s cheeks were scarred by drink and his uniform hung loose on his body. The dull gold braiding from shoulder to cuff on one sleeve indicated he was a general in the Narkang Army, the creasing suggested he had been retired for a while now. There were two other men looking over the map, both much younger, who sported the same braiding, and Legana guessed them to be newly promoted.
‘Good ground, yes,’ said the old general, with a cautious glance at the newcomer, ‘but the river all along that stretch is impassable. There are only two bridges of use to us for more than a hundred miles. You’d need a local in command or they could get trapped.’
‘It’s worth the risk, within striking distance of the city. Three divisions, under your personal command. If the city falls you pull back past the river and the south bank is your boundary. Remember, hit-and-run is our mantra: constant movement, and no engagement where it is expected.’
King Emin at last tore himself away from the map and directed Legana towards an elderly, rather shambolic-looking nobleman escorted by a bored-looking Kingsguard. The pale, rather portly man sat at a small desk peering at another map that had been stretched out and held at the corners with brass weights. Alongside was a jumble