unthinkable. That seven-foot lump of muscle and foolishness hadn’t been like the rest of them. Ever since returning from the battle of Chir Plains Isak had possessed an unnatural quality, some spark of vast power at odds with mortal life.
She’d watched Vesna spar a dozen times and his skill was exceptional, she’d lain in his arms and felt the strength in his chest. The count from Anvee was a soldier well-deserving of his reputation as a hero, but even so, him she could fathom. Isak had been something more: a force of nature who suited his nickname of the Stormcaller. And now the storm was gone.
She bit her lip and hurried on, forcing herself to scan the faces in the distance, however unnecessary it was. Vesna would stand out from the crowd easily enough; that she couldn’t see him with one glance meant he was not here.
‘Lady Tila?’ said a cautious voice to her right. Tila whirled around to face the nervous young legion chaplain she’d met a few days before. ‘Ah, my lady, are you looking for Count Vesna?’
‘I am, Legion Chaplain Cerrat, have you seen him?’ Tila’s reply was rather more brusque than she had intended and Cerrat backed away a little. She had to remind herself that there were no women in the chaplaincy monasteries.
‘My lady, he is ... Ah, come with me, if you would be so kind.’
Cerrat led her almost the length of the training ground, weaving through the bustle to skirt the barracks and stables that backed onto the long perimeter wall. He walked quickly, looking back every few seconds to ensure she was keeping up. As they neared the furthest corner of the compound they came to the much-repaired black tower, once the keep of Tirah’s first castle.
Tila felt her alarm intensify as she saw a crowd assembled outside at the foot of the stone staircase that ran up the side of the tower. The people looked wary, shifting nervously as they looked from her to the door at the top of the stairs. There were wives and servants there as well as soldiers.
‘The shrine?’ Tila asked, dreading the answer.
‘He is there. The mourners, they fear to disturb him, my lady, but they wish to offer for their lost.’
Tila nodded, understanding the anxiety she could see in the faces ahead. There was a shrine to Karkarn there; it was custom within the Palace Guard to offer sacrifices to Karkarn as well as to Death for their losses in battle. The scriptures told of great heroes wearing a ruby around their necks at their Last Judgment, an indication that they had killed, but the act was honoured by the God of War. The relatives would want to pray, to leave a drop of blood in the offering cup for each hero lost.
The crowd parted before Tila, and she made her way straight up, not trusting herself to linger at the bottom in case she lost her nerve. As she entered the dark shrine room, the light from the doorway spilled across the floor and illuminated the hunched form of Vesna in the far corner.
The shrine was in the form of an ornate weapon-stand in the centre of the room that bore a crossed sword and axe, and, underneath, a brass prayer bowl stained by decades of blood offerings. All around the weapon-stand were symbols of Karkarn and his Aspects. A fireplace on the left, behind the weapon-stand, was occupied by a black-iron dragon, burning the incense that filled the air in its upturned claws. The walls were festooned with weapons, and links of copper armour, each one inscribed with the name of a fallen Ghost.
Tila left the door open a finger-width and went over to Vesna, who was sitting on the floor, his black-iron-clad hand pressed against his temple as though praying to Lord Death.
‘Vesna?’ she whispered, trying to ignore the changes and just see the man she loved underneath.
He flinched and gave a great sigh before looking up.
Tila felt her eyes widen at the sight of the ruby on his cheek, but it was the exhaustion in his eyes that chilled her more.
‘He blames me,’ Vesna whispered, ‘as well he might.’
Tila sat down beside him, taking his armoured hand in hers. ‘Carel grieves, nothing more. Grief makes liars of us all. He does not mean what he says.’
‘I should have stopped him,’ Vesna insisted, ‘I should have died in his place.’
Tila felt her breath catch at the very thought, but she forced it