The Twilight herald

'You might not like what else I've decided quite so much.' He could almost feel the quiet of the night, and found himself peering around at the shadows, unwilling to continue until he was sure they were not being spied on. He couldn't feel anything; it was only his muzzy brain and his i

'I want you and Morghien to fetch Xeliath for me, to bring her back to Tirah. It won't be long until someone works out her part in what happened, and when that happens, she'll not live long. She knows Morghien, and you, I assume, can speak Yeetatchen. I have no one else I could ask such a thing of.'

Mihn was quiet for a moment, then he bowed his head. 'If she is that important to you, I will do it.'

'I don't know how important she is to me,' Isak said honestly. 'I've only spoken to her a handful of times. All I know is that she'll be another casualty of my existence – of my twisted destiny – if I leave her to her own fate. The blood of another i

He took a draw on the pipe, only to find it was out. He jabbed his thumb into the pipe bowl and hissed as he discovered the embers were hotter than he'd expected. He wiped his thumb on his tunic, leaving a smear of ash on the white fabric. 'Speaking of blood on my hands, it's time to check on Carel.'

CHAPTER 5

'Xomejx? That's a long way to go for a girl you hardly know,' Morghien said. 'I know she's a pretty young thing-'

'She's in danger and I can hardly go myself,' Isak said, raising a hand to cut Morghien off. 'I need you to go because she knows you, and she can reach your mind.'

'But I don't speak Yeetatchen – never been there in all my years of travelling.'

'Well here's a chance to correct that oversight. As for the language problems, Mihn is going with you and I'm sure he'll manage to pick up a few words.'

Isak squinted up at the old wanderer and gri

He had declined the invitation to go hawking with the suzerain and his fellow guests, determined to spend at least one day out of the saddle. Instead, he had spent the morning lying on the grass, a cushion under his head, and a cup of apple juice to hand, enjoying the birds and butterflies swarming over the countess' flowers. A book lay unopened at his side and a grey-muzzled hunting hound, the suzerain's favourite, stretched out untidily at his feet. The dog might be too old to go hunting with its master, but it was more than willing to spend a lazy day being pampered by Isak.

Unable to summon the effort to get up properly, Isak indicated Morghien should sit. He was dressed in fresh leathers and a new shirt,

a gift from the countess, whose delicate sensibilities were offended by his own filthy, tattered clothes. It was a scrubbed, shaved and nearly presentable Morghien who sat now before Isak, though the overall ef¬fect was still one of slightly dishevelled elegance. Morghien reminded the white-eye of his Chief Steward, whose fine clothes always looked untidy and rumpled, simply because he was the one wearing them. And that's not the only similarity, Isak thought. Perhaps I should keep Morghien with me just to keep Lesarl off-balance when I return to Tirah.

Morghien cupped the hound's whiskery muzzle in his hand and wiped a trace of sleep from the corner of its eye with a deft movement. 'I've not visited the Yeetatchen for a reason. They don't like outsiders

– they are a most inhospitable people.'

'Do you think I would be more welcome?'

Morghien shrugged; there was no need to comment. Isak shifted a little to see the man's face a little better, prompting a reproachful look from the dog, now wedged against his hip. Stroking the grey fur, Isak wondered what he needed to say to persuade Morghien. Mihn had accepted the charge easily, as he accepted any order from Isak, but that was because the penance Mihn had imposed upon himself for failing in his life's calling appeared to include indulging the whims of a white-eye, no matter how ludicrous. The journey would be long, hard and dangerous – the Yeetatchen were notorious in their dislike of all outsiders, not just Farlan.

'It's not a political delegation – if Lord Leteil discovers why you're there, he'll kill you both, along with Xeliath.'

'You are sure of that?'

'He's a white-eye, isn't he? Xeliath has a Crystal Skull, and if he finds out about that I can't see any other possible outcome, can you? It's not going to be easy, but I am quite sure you could think of some-thing that might compensate you for the trouble.'

'Rewards are no good to a dead man,' snorted Morghien. He ran a hand through his own grey hair, as rough and wiry as the dog's coat.

'Don't die then!' Isak snapped back. 'You've managed it thus far! I wasn't offering you gold – though that's easily given if it's all you want

– I assumed you'd want some sort of a favour in return.'

'You assume you have something I want,' Morghien replied coolly.

'Correct. I don't know exactly what your relationship with King Emin is, but I know you've got plans for the future, and I suspect my involvement would be helpful. Just what you are up to is your own business – for the time being, at least. I'm caught up in quite enough plots as it is.' He sighed. 'I assume it has something to do with Azaer, so I think we would both benefit from our alliance.' He felt rather than saw Morghien tense at the name.

The dog whined as Isak pulled himself to a seating position. His massive body cast a shadow that almost completely enveloped the wanderer. 'Decide now whether you want my friendship or not. Emin already has, but I've yet to decide which one of you is truly in control of whatever bargain you two have going. I suspect you were – Emin said you met before he took over Narkang, and that happened when he was my age – but that man's too clever to still be taking anyone's orders for long. So enough of the games. I need this of you. Will you do it?' Isak spat in his hand and held it out.

After a moment of consideration, Morghien did the same and they shook on the strange bargain. Despite the warmth of day, Morghien's leathery hand felt chill to the touch.

'If we must go, let it be soon,' Morghien called to Mihn, who was standing in the shade of the doorway. 'Storm season on the Green Sea isn't much fun. If we have a ducal warrant from you, Lord Isak, then we can be ready to leave tomorrow.'

Mihn nodded at that and walked over to join the two men. He too had stripped down to just a thin shirt and Isak could see how slender he was, all sinew and whipcord strength. It was no wonder Harlequins could hide their gender so effectively if even the men were so slim. They looked androgynous, and many thought them not even human, for their talents could appear almost supernatural. The Harlequins were trained from birth; they carried in their memories the history of all the Seven Tribes of Man, and they could mimic the speech of each of them.

'Mihn, you've been travelling for weeks,' Isak said. 'At least take a break before starting out again. I'm sure there's time.'

Mihn shook his head. 'Morghien's right. Better to leave as soon as possible. I will be ready by tomorrow morning. A ducal warrant will mean we don't need to carry much in the way of supplies, we can requisition what we need en route. Give us fresh horses and we can be off.'

Isak's own heart sank at the thought of getting into the saddle again; he was astonished that Mihn was willing to just up and go, especially as he wouldn't be back in Tirah before winter paralysed the country.