Emin wins this war and the Circle City’s in need of a leader again, or Lord Styrax wins, and he’ll be looking for a permanent ruler for each region of his empire. If that happens, I’m sure he’d be glad of strong allies before he heads towards Tirah - especially if one has connections in those parts already.’
Certinse smiled. ‘My first obligation must certainly be the stability of the Order, yes - my scholarship has perhaps been neglected in recent years, but it’s never too late to refresh one’s memory of the Order’s founding principles. This current fervour could be far better employed in the pursuit of the Order’s greater purpose, I suspect - and never let it be said I am closed to new ideas. Your little prince’s message, for example; even an old soldier such as I could be swayed. The Land will soon be tired of war - if it could be ended swiftly the Gods themselves would surely thank us.’
For a moment Doranei forgot himself and stopped, staring in wonder: far away over the moor a flock of birds were diving and wheeling in a great cloud against the sky, while closer at hand, swifts darted and swooped, feasting on the insects stirred up by the activity on the moor. He could hear the beating of thousands of wings in unison.
‘Not a sight you ever get bored of, eh?’ Veil commented from his right.
Doranei nodded dumbly as the flocks swept over a slight rise on the moor and flattened into a swirling cable of birds that arched up into the sky. Further east, orange-edge striations of cloud lay above the horizon and he felt a slight shadow fall over them as the flock veered past.
‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ snapped the man standing between them. His left arm was resting lightly on Doranei’s shoulder.
‘What? Hah! No - not a joke,’ Veil said, a brief grin flashing across his face.
The third man in their group was a mage from Narkang called Tasseran Holtai, who was generally acknowledged to be the finest scryer in the kingdom. Unfortunately, his years of service had come at a price: he had been completely blind for almost a decade.
‘Aye, we only joke with men we like,’ Doranei growled while Veil looked skyward in exasperation.
‘You impudent peasant!’ Holtai spat, swinging his walking stick at Doranei’s shins.
The King’s Man hopped nimbly away from the blow and stifled a laugh as Veil was jabbed in the ribs with the stick in Doranei’s place.
‘I don’t care what favour the king has for you, I’ll have you flogged for your insolence!’ he snarled.
‘I’m afraid there’s already a queue for that pleasure,’ Veil said cheerfully, ‘so let’s get this done first.’
Mage Holtai turned in Veil’s direction, far from mollified, but aware the king was waiting. He was a sprightly man of more than seventy winters, his white moustache neatly trimmed and his clothing immaculate, as ever — today he wore a long purple robe edged in gold. His skills had brought him not only considerable personal wealth, but also great political power in Narkang; he was a poor enemy to make, even for the Brotherhood.
‘Shift yourself then, you wretch,’ the mage hissed, grabbing wildly for Doranei’s shoulder again.
The King’s Man raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes at Veil, who grinned back. He stepped closer and guided Holtai’s hand to his shoulder, but they had gone only a few steps before the old man grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him backwards with more strength than Doranei would have expected from a frail-looking old man.
‘Not so fast you damn fool!’ the mage snarled.
Doranei bit back his instinctive response and slowed his pace until they were shuffling through the flattened grass towards a raised mound of indeterminate purpose. It was five feet high, and it was encircled by a staked ditch twenty yards out, and a full company of soldiers - fifty men - looking extremely bored.
On the mound itself stood two unmistakable figures: Endine and Cetarn, King Emin’s most trusted mages. Tomal Endine, a wiry, rat-like man, sat cross-legged before one of a dozen wooden posts. One hand was pressed against it and trails of white light danced around him. His colleague and friend Shile Cetarn lounged nearby, resting part of his considerable weight on an enormous wooden mallet. As they neared, Doranei was amused to see Endine moving away from the post, then falling backwards in shock as Cetarn wasted no time in taking an