‘I am summoned to the throne room, Ceda.’
‘True. Not entirely urgent. The Preda would have you present… shortly. The First Eunuch enquired after your eldest brother?’
Brys sighed.
‘I surmised,’ Kuru Qan said, glancing up with a broad smile. ‘Your unease tainted your sweat. Nifadas is sorely obsessed at the moment.’ He set the lenses against his eyes once more. Focused on the Finadd’s eyes – disconcerting, since it had never happened before. ‘Who needs spies when one’s nose roots out all truths?’
‘I hope, Ceda, that you do not lose that talent, with this new invention of yours.’
‘Ah, see! A swordsman indeed. The importance of every sense is not lost on you! What a measurable delight – here, let me show you.’ He slid down from the stool and approached a table, where he poured clear liquid into a translucent beaker. Crouched low to check its level, then nodded. ‘Measurable, as I had suspected.’ He plucked the beaker from its stand and tossed the contents back, smacking his lips when he was done. ‘But it is both brothers who haunt you now.’
‘I am not immune to uncertainty.’
‘One should hope not! An important admission. When the Preda is done with you – and it shall not be long – return to me. We have a task before us, you and I.’
‘Very well, Ceda.’
‘Time for some adjustments.’ He pulled off the lenses once more. ‘For us both,’ he added.
Brys considered, then nodded. ‘Until later, then, Ceda.’
He made his way from the sorceror’s chamber.
Nifadas and Kuru Qan, they stand to one side of King Diskanar. Would that there was no other side.
The throne room was misnamed, in that the king was in the process of shifting the royal seat of power to the Eternal Domicile, now that the leaks in its lofty roof had been corrected. A few trappings remained, including the ancient rug approaching the dais, and the stylized gateway arching over the place where the throne had once stood.
When Brys arrived, only his old commander, Preda Unnutal Hebaz, was present. As always, a dominating figure, no matter how exalted her surroundings. She stood taller than most women, nearly Brys’s own height. Fair-skinned, with a burnished cast to her blonde hair yet eyes of a dark hazel, she turned to face him at his approach. In her fortieth year, she was none the less possessed of extraordinary beauty that the weather lines only enhanced.
‘Finadd Beddict, you are late.’
‘Impromptu audiences with the First Eunuch and the Ceda-’
‘We have but a few moments,’ she interrupted. ‘Take your place along the wall, as would a guard. They might recognize you, or they might assume you are but one of my underlings, especially given the poor light now that the sconces have been taken down. Either way, you are to stand at attention and say nothing.’
Frowning, Brys strode to his old guard’s niche, turned about to face the chamber, then edged back into the shadows until hard stone pressed against his shoulders. He saw the Preda studying him for a moment, then she nodded and swung to face the doorway at the far corner of the wall behind the dais.
Ah, this meeting belongs to the other side…
The door slammed open to the gauntleted hand of a Prince’s Guardsman, and the helmed, armoured figure of that man strode warily into the chamber. His sword was still in its scabbard, but Brys knew that Moroch Nevath could draw it in a single beat of a heart. He knew, also, that Moroch had been the prince’s own candidate for King’s Champion. And well deserved too. Moroch Nevath not only possesses the skill, he also has the presence … And, although that bold manner irritated Brys in some indefinable way, he found himself envying it as well.
The Prince’s Guard studied the chamber, fixing here and there on shadowed recesses, including the one wherein Brys stood – but it was a momentary thing, seeming only to acknowledge the presence of one of the Preda’s guards – and Moroch finally settled his attention on Unnutal Hebaz.
A single nod of acknowledgement, then Moroch stepped to one side.
Prince Quillas Diskanar entered. Behind him came Chancellor Triban Gnol. Then, two figures that made Brys start. Queen Janall and her First Consort, Turudal Brizad.
By the Errant, the entire squalid nest.
Quillas bared his teeth at Unnutal Hebaz as would a dog at the end of his chain. ‘You have released Finadd Gerun Eberict to Nifadas’s entourage. I want him taken back, Preda. Choose someone else.’
Unnutal’s tone was calm. ‘Gerun Eberict’s competence is above reproach, Prince Quillas. I am informed that the First Eunuch is pleased with the selection.’
