tunnel, their red sashes, bearing the Order’s Runesword emblem, making them obvious, even at that distance.
Kayel, watching people’s reactions, gave Amber a comradely tap and pointed to the Litse lord. The grossly obese white-eye, Ilit’s Chosen, was looking like a man afraid as he sensed the shift around him. His hand reached for his scimitar-bladed spear, which was carried by a servant. Gesh, first among the library’s white-eye guardians, stood near Lord Celao, watching heads turn impassively. There was no sign that he’d noted Celao’s fearful reaction, though he could hardly have failed to see it.
‘Fat-boy’s scared,’ Kayel commented with a chuckle. ‘A nobleman from Tor Salan arrived in the night and demanded to speak to him.’
Amber considered both Gesh and the statement a moment. The white-eye was still wearing his ceremonial armour, but he now carried an ornate bow rather than javelins.
‘Gesh has been made Krann of the Litse?’ he inquired.
‘That’s the one. Turns out the nobleman spent his entire fortune to commission a bow from the mage-smiths of Tor Salan, bankrupted himself a few weeks before you lot arrived at the gate.’
‘Our Gods are caring, then,’ Amber muttered, looking at the contrast between white-eyes. Gesh already looked more of a lord than Celao ever had, so he guessed it wouldn’t be long before a true ruler took charge of what Litse were left in the Land.
‘One of ’em, maybe,’ Kayel said with a wink. ‘I heard the man had the Lady’s luck - you lot killed all the mages in Tor Salan, so none of ’em lived to collect his final payment!’
Amber smiled distantly and looked at the approaching Devoted, led by Knight-Cardinal Certinse, without his attendant priests for the first time in months. More curiously, they were ignoring the unmistakable shape of Lord Celao and instead headed towards the Summerturn House.
‘Quite some allies you’ve got here, Sergeant,’ Amber commented. ‘The frightened Lord Celao I can understand; the only way to keep the support of his people is to unite them against us, but the Devoted?’
‘As Ruhen says, it’s always good to have friends.’
Amber frowned. ‘Are they Ruhen’s friends, or Duchess Escral’s?’
‘The duchess is the ruler of Byora,’ Kayel reminded him, ‘Ruhen’s a special little boy, but he’s not telling the duchess what to do.’
‘Leaves that part to you, does he? No, don’t bother answering that. I know the Devoted are having problems with their priests, but is it bad as all that?’
‘Depends whether you’d enjoy being strung up for impiety. As I hear, Akell’s at boiling point.’
‘But the Knight-Cardinal’s authority is based on the cults; isn’t every officer of the Order an ordained priest? It would be quite a step for them to seek outside help against their own.’
Kayel nodded. ‘Their problem, not mine.’
‘But to look to Ruhen for help? Half the Order must consider Ruhen and your band of preachers heretical.’
‘Don’t you think everyone needs to wallow in the glory o’ the Gods?’ Kayel said in a deadpan voice.
Amber glanced around, then gestured for Kayel to follow him back out onto Ilit’s Stair, where they wouldn’t be overheard. ‘I don’t think you do, no.’
‘What makes you say that, soldier-boy?’ Kayel asked, an edge of menace creeping into his voice. Amber felt his fingers ache for the feel of his scimitars.
‘Because I might not be as slow as I look, and nor’s Lord Styrax.’
Kayel gave him an appraising look. ‘Jury’s out on that one, soldier-boy. You got a problem with me, spit it out, or draw those pretty swords, but don’t just stand there catchin’ flies.’
‘I don’t think it’ll be a problem,’ Amber said, forcing himself not to square up to the man. There was something about the big sergeant that reminded him of a white-eye; that air of aggression and belligerence that could spark a fight from thin air. ‘But you’re not just a mercenary, and you’re not serving the duchess. Pretending otherwise is a waste of time and an insult to Lord Styrax.’
‘I think you better explain yourself better than that — so far I don’t like what I’m hearing.’ Kayel had his hand on his bastard sword now, and Amber could see by the set of his shoulders that the man wasn’t joking any longer; he recognised the readiness of a warrior ready to kill.
‘First of all, I don’t think there’s a problem between us, or our masters,’ Amber said in a calm voice, ‘so let’s not get straight to the cutting. I was in Scree, and I heard a name or two being