Kellanved's Reach

Silk was at the crenellations of Heng’s west wall; not on duty, merely taking the air, thinking, as was his habit of late. By order of the Protectress all travel restrictions and curfews had been lifted, and so now traffic was thick beneath him on the Great Trader Road westward to Quon and Tali, as was the river traffic as well. Normally, he would be lingering in the Inner Round, at one of the trendy eateries or courtyards, mingling with the daughters – and mothers – of the richer merchant houses and what passed for local Hengan aristocracy, such as it was.

But his thoughts kept returning to Shalmanat. And lately his usual amusements and dalliances had lost their fascination. Become rote. Even dreary.

While she remained cloistered, refusing all company. Even his. He let out a long breath and brushed dust from the sleeve of his white silk shirt. What was one to do?

‘Greetings, mage!’ came a great bellow from behind, and Silk turned to peer down to the street below. There stood two of his mage compatriots, the great shaggy giant Koroll, and the mage of Telas, Smokey.

‘What is it?’ he sighed. ‘Magical pilfering from the market stalls again?’

The giant rumbled a laugh. ‘Nay. I am come to give you my farewells.’

Silk started from the wall. ‘What? A moment.’ He hurried to the nearest stairs.

He found them waiting at the bottom and peered up at Koroll, confused. ‘You are given an errand?’

‘No, no.’ The huge fellow was wearing his usual shapeless hanging rags and tatters, his tall stave in hand. ‘No errand. Travel. I am called away to the north. To my people.’

Now Silk was even more confused. He’d never considered Koroll’s people. Who would they be? The Thelomen? ‘Your people are in the north?’ The north? A thought struck him. ‘Wait! You are of the Fenn?’

Koroll waved a great paw. ‘Just an ancient word for giant. Or monster. Not ours, by the way. One of yours. Humans’.’

‘Ah.’ Silk was relieved – all sorts of dire and dark rumours and legends surrounded that name. ‘You have spoken with Shalmanat?’

The giant’s wide expressive mouth drew down and he nodded sombrely. ‘Yes. I have taken my leave. It is unfortunate, but unavoidable. I must go.’

‘Now? You are going now?’

‘Yes. Ho and I have spoken at length and Mara and I have said our farewells. And now I shall pass on my thoughts to you two,’ and he nodded to Smokey. ‘I am no reader of the Deck of Dragons, or any such, but I have been troubled of late. This is another reason why I hearken to this call. And so I warn you as I have Ho, Mara and Shalmanat – something is coming. I do not know what, but it troubles me greatly.’

Silk was reminded of Liss’s words months ago. ‘You sound just like Liss,’ he said, half jokingly.

‘Then listen to her too, my friend.’

‘And you have no idea?’ Smokey asked, stroking his goatee. ‘If it is a danger, then stay and help.’

The alien, fading tattoos that crossed the giant’s face writhed as he grimaced. ‘I am sorry. It is just a new smell in the wind; a strange new bite to the cold air. Ancient, but somehow familiar.’ He shook his wild mane of dirty hair, and bits of chaff and straw came dusting down. Then he chuckled, his old self, and cuffed huge hands to Silk and Smokey’s shoulders. ‘So! Keep a weather eye out, my friends! And good luck to you!’ He turned and shambled off up the main way, parting the heavy traffic of carts and wagons like a lumbering man-o’-war.

Silk and Smokey stood silent, watching the giant go, then the mage of Telas let out a long breath and pulled on his goatee once more. ‘Excellent. Some sort of trouble might be on the way and now we’re shorthanded.’

‘We’ll have to recruit.’

Smokey snorted. ‘Can’t imagine anyone good enough. I, after all, am the famous mage of Telas, while you …’ he paused to look Silk up and down, ‘I never could figure out what it was you did.’

Silk offered a smile. ‘I make us look good.’

‘Hunh. That’s what I do just by showing up.’

Silk extended an arm. ‘I suggest a drink while we hash that out.’ He pointed to Smokey’s leather shoes. ‘I mean, really? Tradesmen’s footwear.’

‘Better than those silk slippers.’

Silk raised a foot. It was indeed in a silk slipper. He wiggled it back and forth, sighing. ‘It’s all the fashion these days, my friend. You should stay informed.’

‘How can you even walk in those?’

‘That’s the whole point. They declare that their wearer is above such pedestrian concerns.’

Smokey shook his head, but he quirked a rueful smile. ‘Why you hang around sponging off those rich arseholes is beyond me.’

Silk shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well … there’s little to be gained from sponging off the poor.’

Chapter 16

In Dariyal, Cartheron watched while events unfurled as Surly predicted, or perhaps enforced: Tarel ceded power to the Napan Council of Elders and Nobles and retired to the family’s private island, while the Council – suitably chastened – heeded most suggestions from Surly herself, who remained hidden from pretty much everyone else.