‘We’ve integrated well, don’t you think, Freath?’
‘Yes, my lord, surprisingly well.’
‘So many mixed marriages,’ Loethar continued. ‘I’m very glad to see that the mingling of bloods has begun.’
‘General Stracker might not agree,’ Freath added, conversationally.
‘He’s short-sighted, Freath. Most of the Denovian people would be enriching the soil if it had been left to him. There’d be no one left to make an empire,’ Loethar replied, yet again wishing his half-brother had even a fraction of his aide’s insight. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and he nodded at Freath’s enquiring look.
Freath opened the door and spoke briefly. Then closed it again, turning to Loethar. ‘It’s time to go, my lord.’
Loethar began buttoning his midcoat. Freath dutifully held out the jacket. ‘I hate all this formal wear, Freath.’
‘I know you do, my lord, but it’s necessary. Can’t have you looking like a barbarian.’ They both smiled at the quip. ‘What news from the north, sir?’
Loethar shrugged, allowing Freath to quickly do up his jacket while he struggled with his collar. ‘All quiet for now. We’ve had patrols moving through the forest. The notorious highwayman and his daring minions elude me but we’ve silenced them for a while. There’s been no activity in the region for several moons.’
Their conversation was interrupted by a bang at the door.
Freath frowned but Loethar inclined his head. The aide moved to the door and opened it.
‘I need to speak with him,’ a brusque voice demanded.
‘It’s General Stracker, my lord,’ Freath announced, as the other man pushed past him into the room.
‘Stracker. Speak of the devil!’ Loethar said amiably. ‘I was just telling Freath here that you were up north and all was quiet.’
Stracker grinned a sly smile. His green tatua slid in tandem, widening across his round, thickset face. ‘Not so quiet any longer.’
Loethar stopped grimacing at himself in the mirror and turned his attention to his general. ‘What’s occurred?’
‘We might have our elusive outlaw.’
Loethar’s mouth opened in surprise and then he too smiled. ‘Tell me.’
Freath quietly set about pouring the two men a cup of wine, unobtrusively serving it and then melting back into the room to stand silently. Though he wasn’t intruding Loethar was aware the aide could hear everything. It didn’t matter. He would discuss most of this with Freath anyway.
‘I can’t confirm what you want to hear—not yet anyway—but one of the men, and we are almost sure it’s one of the outlaws, took an arrow wound.’
‘Faris?’
‘We think it could be.’
‘So he’s wounded and got away,’ Loethar demanded.
‘That’s the sum of it,’ Stracker confirmed, seemingly unfazed by the emperor’s intensity.
‘What makes you say you almost have him, then? Simply because you’ve wounded a man who could just belong to his cohort!’ Loethar gave a sound of disgust and drained his cup.
‘Not so fast, brother. Hear me out,’ Stracker said, cunning lacing his tone. ‘My men tell me that the wounded man took the arrow in the thigh. Now I’m sure even you would agree that in this situation it would be every man for himself.’
There was an awkward pause until Loethar grudgingly nodded. ‘What of it?’
Stracker grinned. ‘Not in this instance. Our soldiers confirmed that the renegades rallied around the wounded man, almost setting up a human shield. They half-carried, half-ran him away from our men. They’re clever and fast, I’ll give them that, and they know the ways and means of the forest better than our men ever could. They disappeared faster into the shadows of the great trees than our soldiers could scramble up the hill.’
‘What’s your point?’ Loethar hated sounding so thick-headed and he knew it was disappointment making his comprehension sluggish.
Stracker clearly delighted in his slowness. ‘Ask Freath, I’m sure he understands.’ He casually took a long draught from his cup.
Loethar glanced at Freath, who obliged, tension in his voice. ‘I suspect, my lord, that General Stracker is implying that the man was important enough for the others to risk their own capture or death.’
‘Exactly,’ Stracker followed up, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.
Freath sounded awfully alarmed, Loethar thought, but he turned back to Stracker.
‘But you let them get away,’ he said, his voice quiet and suddenly threatening.
‘No, I didn’t, brother. I wasn’t there. Had I been, I would have given chase until my heart gave out, but the captain in charge decided it was prudent not to venture deeper into the forest with only five men. He knew we would want this information and so I now have it and have brought it to you. But in the meantime I had Vulpan taken to the spot.’
This time Loethar had no struggle in understanding his brother’s meaning. ‘Inspired.’
‘Thank you,’ the huge man said, deigning to incline his head in a small bow.
‘I’m impressed, Stracker. So what now?’
‘We wait for news. We will find him, brother. Trust me.’ Loethar did not resist his general’s friendly tap on his face, for it was meant affectionately, but he despised it. Carefully, however, he kept his expression even as the general excused himself.
‘Enjoy the nobles,’ Stracker said, smiling ironically as he left.
Loethar stared at the open doorway absently until Freath closed the door. ‘Freath, have I told you about Vulpan yet?’
‘No, my lord. Perhaps you’ll enlighten me now,’ the aide said, returning to his previous task of brushing lint from the emperor’s shoulder.
‘He’s one of our Vested. It’s a strange talent but he only has to taste a person’s blood to know that person again.’
Freath stood back from Loethar, his forehead creased in amused puzzlement.
Loethar held up a hand with helpless resignation as he swung around. ‘I know, I know. But there’s no accounting for these Vested. Some possess enchantments that defy imagination.’
‘You mean his taste of blood works in the same way that a dog can trace a smell?’
Loethar grinned. ‘I suppose. He never gets it wrong, Freath. We’ve tested him time and again…even tried to trick him.’
Freath frowned. ‘So he has tasted the blood of the wounded outlaw.’
Loethar nodded. ‘Why would they rally around the man unless it was Faris? There is no one else of any importance in that cohort.’ He noticed Freath blink, but continued, ‘And some day the outlaw will slip up and Vulpan will deliver him to me. I am a patient man.’
‘Incredible,’ Freath remarked, shaking his head as he stacked the cups on the tray. ‘And this Vulpan is loyal, sir?’
Loethar shrugged. ‘The magic is not in doubt.’
‘Is Kilt Faris that important?’ Freath asked, reaching to do up the emperor’s top button.
Loethar raised his chin. ‘Yes. He challenges me.’
‘He did the same to Brennus before you, sir.’
‘Is that supposed to reassure me, Freath?’
The aide straightened