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‘Because,’ cut in Lady Raelle of House Sengara, ‘these waters are far from clear. We must simply accept that this battle will see kin set upon kin. No matter what the outcome, the highborn will lose family members, thus weakening us for generations to come.’
Sukul drew close to the hound, smiled at the slow sweep of its tail.
Vanut Degalla had twisted slightly to regard the woman beside him. ‘Your point, Raelle?’
‘Is this. If we are to be made weaker, our enemies must be made weaker still. Urusander and his legion must be broken. That means ensuring the death of Hunn Raal, Tathe Lorat and Hallyd Bahann. And Infayen Menand, for that matter.’ She leaned her slender frame back, using both hands to sweep away her long hair until it was clear of her shoulders. ‘In such congress, dear Manalle, disloyal highborn cease to be family matters.’
Degalla set down the mouthpiece of his water-pipe and moved his hand to rest upon Raelle’s forearm. ‘My dear, we know how you grieve over the murder of your husband, and this now feeds an obsession to see Hunn Raal dead. In your place, I would feel the same, I assure you. But too much confusion surrounds Ilgast Rend – what he was doing there, how he came to command the Wardens in Calat’s absence, or even why he thought to challenge the Legion without any support. Even a commander can die in battle—’
‘But he didn’t,’ Raelle said in a tight voice, eyes half-lidded as she regarded the man’s hand on her wrist. ‘He didn’t die in the fighting. Raal had him beheaded.’
Glancing over at Vanut Degalla’s wife, Sukul saw a pallid hue to Syl Lebanas’s dark face, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Degalla withdrew his hand, making its departure a caress. He then leaned back, retrieving the mouthpiece. ‘I have heard the same rumours, Raelle.’
‘Not mere rumours, Vanut. I am telling you what happened. All this wringing of hands over Urusander, when it is Hunn Raal we should be concerned about. It’s now said he has come into magic—’
‘This talk of sorcery is a distraction,’ Trevok said in a rasp. ‘Leave Hunn Raal to his conjuries and cantrips. Urusander cannot be allowed to ascend a throne. Lop off the head and the beast dies – Urusander’s death will see Hunn Raal driven in flight from Kharkanas, with all his murderous cronies tucking tail and joining him.’
‘I think not,’ said Drethdenan, his soft voice cutting across the heated words of the others, all of whom now faced him. Clearing his throat, the slight man continued, ‘Hunn Raal is of the Issgin line. With Urusander dead, he will advance his own claim. For the throne. Indeed, he might well be delighted to hear of the bloodlust some of us here now hold for Urusander.’ Drethdenan offered Lord Trevok a sad smile. ‘You, old friend, have never forgiven Urusander’s failure to protect your family in the Summer of Raids. Hunn Raal knows this
as well as any of us, and no doubt anticipates and perhaps even relies upon such feelings among us. Not just you, Trevok, but also Manalle and Hedeg Lesser, both of whom blame Urusander for Infayen’s betrayal of the House.’ He waved a hand. ‘Whilst Raelle finds herself virtually alone in recognizing Hunn Raal as the real threat here.’
‘Hardly,’ snapped Manalle. ‘Hunn Raal is a seducer of men and women both, with his whispers of indulgence, his sodden smiles and wild promises. Lord Drethdenan sees well the threat posed by Raal.’
‘I would hazard,’ ventured Hish Tulla from where she sat at the head of the table, ‘none of us is so foolish as to ignore Hunn Raal. By the same measure, we must also recognize the threat presented by High Priestess Syntara, who would see Mother Dark’s pre-eminence ended. Whosoever believes that two sides in opposition achieve a lasting balance that stands superior to a single, undivided loyalty knows nothing of history.’
Degalla hissed out a thick stream of smoke. ‘Lady Hish Tulla, what we seek here is the unity of the highborn. Leave Mother Dark to her own concerns, and with them her precious First Son and House Purake.’
Venes Turayd thumped down his goblet, having just drained it, and said, ‘My niece seeks to make a single bowstring of these precious strands here, to send arrows into the heart of more enemies than we dare count. What value our privileged standing when there are few left to kneel before us?’
Hish Tulla sat back, gaze fixed on Vanut Degalla as she elected to ignore her uncle’s words. ‘Vanut, the matter before us most certainly concerns our position with respect to House Purake and its central role in the defence not just of Mother Dark, but of Kharkanas itself. Urusander will see the highborn reduced, our holdings cut away. Our own blood in his ranks will be elevated into our places at the head of each family.’
‘Then where, in this chamber, is House Purake?’
‘Where it should be, in the Citadel!’
Vanut smiled without much humour and said, ‘Not precisely true, Hish Tulla, as you well know. The First Son? Wandering the forest. Brother Andarist? Hiding in a cave with his grief. No, only Silchas Ruin remains in the Citadel, white-skinned and busy dismantling his brother’s officer corps. Who is left to the Houseblades beyond Silchas himself? Kellaras? Indeed, a fine warrior, but he is only one man who now walks with back bruised by Ruin’s incessant bullying.’ He pulled harshly on his pipe. ‘We all have our spies in the Citadel, after all. None of this should come as any surprise.’
‘White-skinned?’ Hish Tulla said in a deceptively calm tone.
Venes Turayd snorted, reaching for the nearest jug of wine.
Shrugging, Vanut Degalla glanced away. ‘At the very least, proof against Mother Dark’s blessing. Indeed, one might perhaps question Anomander himself, with his hair of white. Only the third and the least of the brothers, it would seem, remains outwardly pure.’ His brows lifted. ‘What are we to make of that?’
There was silence for a time, broken only when Baesk stirred in his seat and said, ‘The question remains before us. Do we gather to defend Kharkanas, and all that we hold dear, or do we yield to Urusander, Hunn Raal, the High Priestess, and three thousand avaricious soldiers?’
‘Too simple,’ Vanut murmured. ‘There is another option.’
‘Oh?’
‘Indeed, Baesk, one which you might well embrace, given your two young children and their uncertain futures. We have the choice of … biding our time. How long before those avaricious soldiers begin squabbling among themselves? How long before certain alliances are sought, tilting a feud’s outcome? Indeed, how long before Hunn Raal petitions for the glorious rebirth of House Issgin?’ He suddenly rose and faced Hish Tulla. ‘Do not misunderstand me, honoured host. I too believe we must indeed assemble our Houseblades on the day of battle, to attend to the defence of Kharkanas if necessary. No, what I suggest here is that we create a contingent plan. That we establish a place and the time in which to regroup, marshal our resources anew, and begin a much longer, far more subtle campaign.’
‘Yield a second throne,’ said Aegis, ‘only to immediately begin gnawing its frail legs.’
Vanut Degalla shrugged. ‘Urusander expects this battle to decide matters. I suggest, should it come to that, we make the peace that follows a bloody one.’
Standing nearby, in the falling off of light between two lamps, Sukul Ankhadu could see the horror slowly descend upon Hish Tulla’s features.
