The Wolf's Call - Anthony Ryan Page 0,81

He upended the receptacle and emptied the contents over his head, enjoying the sensation of cleanliness despite the chill. “Strange that you would have no knowledge of her.” He tossed the bucket aside and took a moment to shake the moisture from his hair. “I had heard she achieved some renown in these lands thanks to her healing skill . . .”

“I know of whom you speak.” The man’s expression had hardened once more, Vaelin seeing the same hunger for violence in his gaze. “And, yes, I do know who you are. She is nothing like you.”

He’s never met me, yet he hates me, Vaelin concluded. What did she tell him? He turned away as the question provoked a shameful bitterness. The truth would be cause enough, if he loves her.

“If the Merchant King wishes to know my business in his realm,” he said. “She is the sole reason . . .”

“Don’t speak of her again!”

The surrounding soldiers tensed as their officer took a step towards Vaelin, fist tightening on the sword at his belt. He mastered himself quickly, however, stepping back and nodding at the soldier with the clothes. “Dress and be quick. This tardiness is only adding to the insult you have dealt this kingdom.”

The clothes were a simple set of grey cotton trews and jacket. Shoes were not provided so, once Vaelin had dressed, he was obliged to walk on bare feet as he followed the captain from the courtyard. The soldiers marched on either side, rarely taking their eyes off him. Vaelin was led through a series of gates and along successive walkways, guards snapping to attention as the captain passed by. People Vaelin took to be servants from their plain garb and the bundles they carried would scurry aside and bow low. By contrast, those of more opulent dress, presumably courtiers or officials of some kind, would either stare at Vaelin in open curiosity or pointedly avert their gaze as if the mere sight of a barbarian were somehow injurious.

Eventually they came to a gate far taller and more ornate than the others, its massive doors grinding on iron hinges as they swung open to reveal a broad pleasing panorama. Low hills of vibrant green surrounded placid pools of clear water whilst cherry blossom trees scattered petals across the vista. Vaelin recalled Lyrna’s liking for gardens and the extensive royal parks she reputedly funded in her new dominions. However, he doubted she had as yet crafted anything to match this for sheer scale and beauty.

“Wait here,” the captain told his soldiers, starting through the gate and gesturing for Vaelin to follow. The great doors swung closed the instant they stepped through onto the lush pasture. There appeared to be no pathways here, and Vaelin enjoyed the feel of the grass on his feet as he followed the captain up one hill and down another.

“You know my name,” he said, labouring to keep up thanks to the depredations of his confinement. “Will you not tell me yours?”

The captain remained silent for some time before replying in a tone of weary necessity, “Sho Tsai. Commander of the Red Scouts.”

“A mere scout?” Vaelin scoffed. “And not even a general? Surely a man of my standing should be escorted by someone of equal rank.”

It was another calculated barb, one that seemed to strike deeper than the others. Sho Tsai came to a halt, turning in a slight crouch, one hand on the scabbard of his sword whilst the other gripped the handle. “Rank?” he asked in a low murmur. “You have no more status here than a worm wriggling in shit.”

Anger, Vaelin thought in satisfaction as he began to voice another insult, one he hoped would guarantee an attack. He would disarm this prideful scout and force information from him. He knows where the others are. He knows where Sherin is, and I’ll have him tell me.

A high-pitched chime sounded across the park, drawing Vaelin’s gaze from Sho Tsai’s glowering visage. The sound had originated from a small island in the centre of the nearest pool. It was linked to the bank by a stone pier and featured a slope-roofed structure supported by four pillars. A tall man with long silver hair stood beneath the roof, repeatedly striking a baton to a broad bell of some kind. A little girl capered about in front of him, her giggles mingling with the chimes.

Sho Tsai let out a deep sigh as he straightened, gesturing to the island. “The Merchant King Lian

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