He rose suddenly from his seat, startling Nai and causing the mage to nearly fall backwards. ‘You fucking rat-bastard necromancer!’ Amber shouted, grabbing at Nai’s arm.
The mage tipped himself back out of his chair and rolled onto his feet out of the major’s reach.
‘What are you doing?’ Nai yelled, almost colliding with one of the Litse merchants as he scrambled back. The three stared in horror as the big Menin lurched forward, still unsteady after his injuries but no less brutal-looking for all that. The conversation had been conducted in the Menin dialect and they had no idea what was going on.
‘I’ll fucking gut you in a moment,’ Amber roared, drawing a scimitar. ‘Bloody Purn didn’t sense that Skull; he was taking orders from Azaer!’
‘How would that be my fault?’ Nai shouted back, retreating as far as he could with hands outstretched towards Amber. ‘If it’s even true, I did nothing!’
Amber kept on moving. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know, there’s no way he’d be able to hide something like that from his acolyte!’
‘You expect me to be privy to every conversation?’ Nai yelled back. ‘Purn was far more powerful than I! How would I know his orders?’
‘Maybe not, but you damned well must have known his links to Azaer, and you kept it from me.’
Nai gaped, his alarm suddenly eclipsed by outrage. ‘And you blame me for that? He was a necromancer, most likely one of the most skilled in the entire Land - of course Azaer had noticed him - but whatever dealings went on if there were dealings, I didn’t know the details!’
Amber stopped and lowered his scimitar. He started to think about what Nai had just said - then a greenish light flared in the mage’s open palm and the major felt a blow to his gut like a mule’s kick, throwing him backwards. He hit the ground hard, black stars bursting before his eyes.
His vision still blurred, Amber felt a foot press against his shoulder and instinctively curled, anticipating a second blow, but instead he was rolled roughly onto his back. He could just make out Nai’s furious face looking down at him.
The mage no longer looked in the least bit comical. Twin trails of green fire swirled around his right hand, which he’d drawn back, like a boxer ready to throw the final punch. ‘All you damn Menin,’ Nai spat, ‘you think you’re the chosen people; that someone like me doesn’t count, and you can treat us like dogs. That’s why the Litse hate you: they can see that arrogance in your eyes - that calculation that anyone not on your side must be an enemy, someone to be dominated. I didn’t tell you about Purn’s link with Azaer because by association it’d mean one more reason not to trust me.’
With an effort of will the necromancer took a step back and let the trails of magic dissolve harmlessly into the air. ‘Politics interested Isherin Purn just as little as they do me - who sits in which palace hardly matters when you’re unravelling secrets of the Land itself.’
He made to walk away, then stopped and looked back. ‘Despite the limitations of your tribe and profession, Major Amber, I respect you. But in my world we can’t afford uncertainty. My choices are to kill you now, or disappear well beyond your reach.’ His voice took on a cold tone. ‘Ready for me to decide?’
CHAPTER 24
‘Lord Fernal, this is madness!’ Count Vesna shouted, bursting through the door. ‘You cannot sign this treaty!’
Fernal looked up from his desk, then turned to the Chief Steward standing on his left. ‘Is this the sort of obedience I can expect from all nobles now?’
Vesna ignored the comment as he marched up to the desk. The braiding of his formal uniform was swinging wildly. ‘You’re signing the treaty?’ he demanded.
Fernal growled and stood. The Demi-God was large as a white-eye, and he towered over Count Vesna. The new Lord of the Farlan wore a strange amalgamation of robes and tunic, made of some silky grey cloth seamed with gold thread, with his snake-and-arrows crest embroidered on the front. The ducal circlet sat on his head, and the clasps holding his cloak were solid discs of gold. It was as formal as Vesna had ever seen Fernal, but as with Isak, it did nothing to hide the dangerous potential rumbling underneath.
‘I am signing the treaty,’ he said deliberately slowly, pronouncing each syllable with care, even