dark platform and on to solid flagstones. The room was unremarkable; even Isak, a wagon-brat, felt mildly disappointed at the musty air and plain furnishings. There was a battered desk with a worn leather-backed chair before it and a clothes trunk next to the bed. The fireplace was very plain. It didn’t fit the decadent image he had of palace life.
‘My Lord, I am reminded of another matter that you will wish to attend to immediately,’ announced Lesarl. ‘Might I suggest we retire to the top room?’ Bahl turned enquiringly. The blank look on his steward’s face seemed to answer his question.
He turned back to his new Krann and said, ‘Isak, you need to sleep more than you realise. Any questions you have can wait for later. I will wake you when it is time.’
Without waiting for a reply, Bahl repeated his motions and the pair disappeared upwards in a sudden flurry. Isak found the chair behind him and sank down thankfully. The weight on his mind had drained his limbs of strength and he suddenly felt desperately tired. This wasn’t what he’d imagined, but the presence of a bed was enough, and anything more than a rug on the ground was luxury.
He turned to the desk, where he found a razor lying snug in a bone sheath, beside it a copper bowl, a water jug and a polished copper and glass mirror. Leaning forward, he caught his face in the mirror, a perfect reflection that sent a shiver of excitement through his body. It had been made with magic: there was no other way to produce such a smooth surface. It might have been a paltry extravagance for a palace, but it still cheered Isak’s spirits.
His eyes drifted up to the single shelf above the desk. A few dusty books lay on it, all of them looking older than he was. Carel had taught him to read, but it had always been a chore rather than a pleasure. Scanning the titles - From Across the Sea, The Campaigns of Manayaz Vukotic , Duels of Words: the Founding of the College of Magic - Isak decided he was too tired to face any of them tonight, although the second one made him linger a moment, wondering why it was here in the first place. Manayaz Vukotic had died as the worst of traitors, for he had led his tribe against their patron God during the Great War. This act of heresy had condemned Vukotic himself to an eternity in the Dark Place, and his five children to be cursed with vampirism. Odd to have an account of his successes in the new Krann’s quarters, no matter what lessons could be learned from them. Isak hadn’t expected that sort of book to be readily available, even here. Perhaps it was a test of some kind, though to what end he couldn’t fathom. With a sigh he looked back at the maid, this time seeing her properly. She was pretty, taller than he’d first thought, and with what looked to be a fine bosom under her thick robe.
‘What’s your name?’ he started.
The girl gave a small shriek at the unexpected break in the silence. She stared round, looking horrified that Isak was capable of speech. Isak wondered if some of Bahl’s guests were a little less than friendly to the maids when left alone with them.
The girl steadied herself, reassured perhaps by Isak’s equally startled expression. She looked him over quickly, then said, ‘Tila, my Lord, my name is Tila Introl. I am to be your personal maid.’
Isak had no idea why he needed a personal maid, but she was pretty so he had no complaints. He looked around the room for a way to open conversation, prodding absentmindedly at the blood-stained bandage around his left hand. Then the books caught his eye once more.
‘Can you read?’ he asked, nodding his head encouragingly towards the dusty tomes.
‘Of course, my Lord. My father has an extensive library.’ She sounded a little surprised.
‘Your family has money?’ he asked, bemused at the idea that his maid was highborn. No one else could afford any sort of library.
‘Yes, my Lord. My father is Anad Introl. He is Gatekeeper of the City, and a
‘My Lord, I am reminded of another matter that you will wish to attend to immediately,’ announced Lesarl. ‘Might I suggest we retire to the top room?’ Bahl turned enquiringly. The blank look on his steward’s face seemed to answer his question.
He turned back to his new Krann and said, ‘Isak, you need to sleep more than you realise. Any questions you have can wait for later. I will wake you when it is time.’
Without waiting for a reply, Bahl repeated his motions and the pair disappeared upwards in a sudden flurry. Isak found the chair behind him and sank down thankfully. The weight on his mind had drained his limbs of strength and he suddenly felt desperately tired. This wasn’t what he’d imagined, but the presence of a bed was enough, and anything more than a rug on the ground was luxury.
He turned to the desk, where he found a razor lying snug in a bone sheath, beside it a copper bowl, a water jug and a polished copper and glass mirror. Leaning forward, he caught his face in the mirror, a perfect reflection that sent a shiver of excitement through his body. It had been made with magic: there was no other way to produce such a smooth surface. It might have been a paltry extravagance for a palace, but it still cheered Isak’s spirits.
His eyes drifted up to the single shelf above the desk. A few dusty books lay on it, all of them looking older than he was. Carel had taught him to read, but it had always been a chore rather than a pleasure. Scanning the titles - From Across the Sea, The Campaigns of Manayaz Vukotic , Duels of Words: the Founding of the College of Magic - Isak decided he was too tired to face any of them tonight, although the second one made him linger a moment, wondering why it was here in the first place. Manayaz Vukotic had died as the worst of traitors, for he had led his tribe against their patron God during the Great War. This act of heresy had condemned Vukotic himself to an eternity in the Dark Place, and his five children to be cursed with vampirism. Odd to have an account of his successes in the new Krann’s quarters, no matter what lessons could be learned from them. Isak hadn’t expected that sort of book to be readily available, even here. Perhaps it was a test of some kind, though to what end he couldn’t fathom. With a sigh he looked back at the maid, this time seeing her properly. She was pretty, taller than he’d first thought, and with what looked to be a fine bosom under her thick robe.
‘What’s your name?’ he started.
The girl gave a small shriek at the unexpected break in the silence. She stared round, looking horrified that Isak was capable of speech. Isak wondered if some of Bahl’s guests were a little less than friendly to the maids when left alone with them.
The girl steadied herself, reassured perhaps by Isak’s equally startled expression. She looked him over quickly, then said, ‘Tila, my Lord, my name is Tila Introl. I am to be your personal maid.’
Isak had no idea why he needed a personal maid, but she was pretty so he had no complaints. He looked around the room for a way to open conversation, prodding absentmindedly at the blood-stained bandage around his left hand. Then the books caught his eye once more.
‘Can you read?’ he asked, nodding his head encouragingly towards the dusty tomes.
‘Of course, my Lord. My father has an extensive library.’ She sounded a little surprised.
‘Your family has money?’ he asked, bemused at the idea that his maid was highborn. No one else could afford any sort of library.
‘Yes, my Lord. My father is Anad Introl. He is Gatekeeper of the City, and a
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