Osh dipped his head to acknowledge the point. ‘I am an old acquaintance of the king’s; one who owes him a considerable favour and whose skills are the only way of addressing the balance.’
Doranei grunted. This was neither the time nor place to pursue the matter. ‘Follow me,’ he said, and led them up to a staircase. Coran, Daken and Osh followed him two floors up to an attic room that had two small beds and a table at the window. One of the beds was neatly made up, a man’s possessions arranged with military precision on top. As Coran passed it he kissed the knuckles of his right hand and touched them to the maker’s mark on the guard of the dagger that lay there. The little-known but much admired weaponsmith provided most of what the Brotherhood carried.
Doranei headed for a seat at the window and took a moment to gaze out at the view across Breakale district to Eight Towers.
‘What’s the latest then?’ Coran asked after a minute or two, interrupting Doranei’s reverie.
‘Apart from the lifting of restrictions?’ he said. ‘Only Lord Styrax killing a dragon.’
The white-eye whistled. ‘Must’ve taken some doing.’
‘Smacks of showin’ off if you ask me,’ Daken commented, perching carefully on one of the beds until he was sure it could take the weight of a white-eye.
‘Maybe,’ Doranei said. ‘Whatever the truth, it sounds like he’s won over more than a few by it. Folk here have never had such a powerful ruler and they’re beginning to think it’s better to be inside his empire reaping the benefits than outside trying to fight it.’
‘Might have a point there,’ Daken said with a grin. ‘So we’re goin’ to be the ones fightin’ it - folk call me mad; what’s your excuse?’
‘It’s not our concern at the moment; we’ve only got one target in Byora.’
‘Why? If not this season, then one comin’ soon, Lord Styrax is goin’ to want to add Narkang to his empire. Why not throw a few sails in the pond?’
Seeing both Doranei and Coran looking puzzled by the expression Daken explained, ‘Sail-raptors? No? Ah well, type o’ lizard; swims, eats ducks, scares the shit out of ’em. Anyways, why not try slow him up a bit?’
‘You don’t get to question the king’s decisions,’ Doranei replied, ‘and we don’t have the time or resources to set up something that’ll catch a big-enough duck to make our lives worthwhile. The Menin can’t move much further, they must be badly stretched as it is. If they don’t stop to consolidate they’ll lose the city-states they’ve taken and while they’re doing that, we’ll be invoking our agreements with the Farlan. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s return to the reason why we’re here.’
‘Killing Ilumene,’ Coran said, savouring the words.
‘Not only,’ Doranei corrected sharply. ‘As you’ll see tomorrow — well, not you two, I guess, just Osh and me — there’s more than just Ilumene in Byora.’
‘Such as?’
‘A child, Ruhen, and the rest of Duchess Escral’s inner circle, a man called Luerce, even Aracnan, if he’s still alive after Sebe winged him with a poisoned bolt.’
‘Who’s this Luerce?’
Doranei scratched the stubble on his cheek. ‘I don’t know if I’ve quite worked out his place in things yet. This is what I’ve got so far: there’s a crowd of beggars camped right outside the gates to the Ruby Tower, writing prayers and fixing them to the wall and gates, asking Ruhen to intercede with the Gods on their behalf. Ruhen is — well, we’ll come to him. The beggars are being organised by Luerce and his followers — they’re calling themselves something like Ruhen’s Children, though I’ve heard a few other names mentioned.’
‘So what’s the game?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Doranei admitted. ‘The duchess has been turned against the cults; Hale district is still almost entirely shut off. The goal appears to be cutting the population off from the Gods, removing the priesthood from daily life. By having them call to Ruhen they’re weakening the Gods, but to what end I can’t say. This would have to go on for decades — and spread throughout most of the Land — before the Gods were weak enough for Azaer to be any sort of rival.’
‘Could someone else be a rival instead?’
Doranei sighed. ‘Perhaps — certainly someone with a Skull could kill a God, and the weaker they got, the easier it would be.’
‘Remember that trip you got sent on after Scree?’ Coran asked pointedly, ‘to the monastery on