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  His medium height, so typical of noble Imperialists, did not diminish the power he exuded. He was dressed in the latest fashions, a deep blue silk so fine it was almost transparent, cut close to his body, fitting perfectly. Over than an even deeper blue jacket, short, sleeveless, the shoulders rising to form squared horns. The trousers revealed a cloth-of-silver lining where they were creased above low heeled shoes, not boots, of some animal skin. Black and white striped leather, fur peeking out from the seems. He wore heavy platinum cuffs, chased with the angular patterns typical of the Empire, and a long platinum chain, at the end of which swung a large deep red jewel. So dark, but in its depths there seemed to be a flickering. Llew drew his breath in sharply, could this be Sanguine? Fabled treasure of the Empire? He had heard rumours that negotiations for trade of the precious substance had been happening, hat a breakthrough had been wrought, but so far his father had not talked much of it. He was entranced by its beauty. “A pretty bunch indeed, more than I had expected to find here. They are almost good enough for the court of his most illustrious Emperor. Mmm, my Prince? I might ask of their company later tonight.”

  Llew looked at him, unsure of how to react, did he mean…to lay with? He felt heat creeping up his face, but forced a polite expression. “I am hoping they shall stay the winter here, I would like to be able to watch them again.”

  The Ambassador laughed, a rich slithering sound, putting his hand once more upon Llew’s shoulder. “Yes I did notice how enthralled were you and your little friends were. I cannot fault you, they have skills to charm any man.”

  This time Llew was almost sure he wasn’t just talking about their dancing, ambassador Salvias’ smile had a note of something wicked in it. Is his how men would talk to one another? This shifting innuendo? He was used to word games at court, it was a popular past time, but he had never heard it used in such a way beyond a few tentative teenage wonderings. He glanced over at the other boys, they had moved away some to give him privacy. Gos was watching him out of the corner of his eye, Llew supposed that they were impressed by the fact that the Ambassador was treating him like a man, like a friend, laughing at his jokes. He turned back to the Ambassador, a smile upon his face.

  “Ah, Ambassador Salvias, if it is charms you are after, Danua has much to offer. Shall we go speak with my father? Perhaps you could take the opportunity to look closer at our skilled dancers? Then to the feast table I think. ”

  Ambassador Salvias laughed once more, and Llew was pleased that he was happy with his hospitality. “For one so young you do have a fine wit. But I always say it is good to start young, as such innocence beckons like the Honeysnares, yes?”

  Llew didn’t understand that last at all, but thought it best just to smile and lead his guest forward. Llew hated admitting to ignorance. He left the boys behind. He could always find them later to brag about his new friend.

  “My prince, do call me Salvias, it would honour me.” The ambassador murmured as they made their way through the throngs of laughing Danuans.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Hanged Man

  As Tomas entered his rooms dawn was tingeing grey at the windows, hanging sharp and cold on the brisk breeze. He went to one such window closing it tight against the odd trill of laughter, tired in the morning light, as some lingered before seeking their beds.

  He looked about himself taking note of the furnishings. This was to be his new home, he supposed. King Gaillardia had given him a suite of rooms, a parlour large enough to hold a seating area about a hearth, a study area complete with an antique desk and bookshelves, and a much rougher work bench as requested. Though he must ask for more bookshelves, he doubted he could even put up what he had brought in those provided. And he knew he would inevitably collect more curiosities during his stay and there was more in storage to blow the dust from. A small eating table and chairs stood on a raised dais, framed by stained glass doors which led to his personal balcony. He smiled to himself, it was too large a space to be called a balcony, but he supposed balcony would do.

  Two doors led from the parlour, one leading to the privy and wash room, where he even had his own copper tub. The other led to the bedroom and that enormous bed, big enough for four people, surely. Though it had been many years since he had had company of such a nature. The rooms seemed far too large for him, empty and echoing. He sighed, he had been on the road so long it would be good to rest his weary bones.

  Tomas rummaged in his travel bags, still left by the seating area as he had told the serving lad. He liked to unpack his own things, it was his own ritual he observed wherever he stayed. He enjoyed handling his possessions, enjoyed to slowly establish himself into a place. Maybe vestiges of the territorial instinct? Or maybe you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Ah, this had been what he was looking for. He pulled out a full bottle of Aumorran Brandy, lovingly wiping road dust and lint from its yellow label. Aumorrans may be an insular bunch, and had no doubt had their troubles with Danua, a long and bitter feud, but they did make an excellent brandy. He got a glass from the drinks cabinet, ignoring the bread, fruits and cheeses set out, and took a seat by the hearth. He sunk into its cushioned softness, allowing his back to relax in increments. Taking a sip of the dark brandy, he sighed with contentment.

  He thought of the children he would be teaching, they were not entirely what he had expected. They lived up to all he had heard, and he detected that they both had some basis of intellect. For which he was grateful. He’d had scenarios before where he had agreed to teach a noble’s child (for bread and board and an opportunity to examine some fascinating texts about said family’s ancestor’s dealings with the Utahan) and had found it impossible. The parents couldn’t understand why their little darling wasn’t improving, and he didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because he was stupid. Luckily the boy had an uncanny affinity with horses, and he had told the parents to encourage this skill. Now they were renowned for the best bred horses, fast and sleek.

  The girl, Meredith, he had expected to be reluctant. From all he had heard she was a free spirit. This idea had been confirmed when he found her and her maid obviously getting up to some mischief, the look on her face! She wore her emotions plain to see, chasing one another like clouds scudding over the sun. But she had not rallied against the decision, nor been rude. He had watched her during the night, noting she was a solitary creature, and had a willingness to learn, listening to him, and engaging in lively conversation. If still yet with some immaturity. At odd moments she would gaze upon something and become lost in deep thought.

  He conjured the image in his mind’s eye, closing his real ones, and sipped the brandy. A grassy stage had been cleared outside, the priests and priestesses standing on the edge, some in the centre enacting the passing of the Consort from his full bellied Goddess and the priestesses of Life, to his role of Lord of the Underworld and the Priestesses of the Dark. It was when the High Priestess of the Dark had come to stand by the Lords side that Meredith had suddenly sat forward a look passing strange across her face. Intrigued he had puzzled over it since. She must have seen this ritual many times, so what had suddenly caught her interest? As of yet he could not find an answer.

  Ah, and the Prince, Llewellyn, Llew. He knew that the boy would be difficult, he was foppish and vain. He had noted the gloating smile that had lit up his face when he thought that Meredith was being chastised, but he had also seen the boy’s grasp of court politics and his pride in his country. Tomas knew it would be struggle to get him to sit for a class, knew the boy was eagerly anticipating becoming a knight. He made a note to himself to tailor his lessons to those desires, a hands on approach. Maybe he could talk to some of the knights to combine history with strategy? Use those oversized maps and markers military men were fond of. They boy had great potential.

  He also rather suspected that the boy had taken an instant disliking to him, though he didn’t know why. He thought he would have been keen to learn from someone his father held in regard. Perhaps he shou
ld have put a little more effort into changing his clothes, he must have looked drab compared to that leech. Salvias had been quick to insinuate himself with the boy, and to feel out ears sympathetic to the Empire’s overtures.

  Tomas had heard the rumours of the new Emperor’s wish to take a wife, an alliance bought, and his plans to expand his Empire. He had also heard that one of the reasons for Salvias’ visit was to offer a trade alliance, with the prize of Sanguine. A curious change in attitude; the last Emperor had kept the development of Sanguine strictly to within the Empire, enriching nobles of his choice, solidifying his power, and concentrating his efforts into the mining of the substance. The Empire itself had not pushed its boundaries for a generation, merely maintaining already established footholds. It seemed this new Emperor, young and arrogant, sought glory, sought to conquer.

  And that fabled substance was his lure. Sanguine. It was said to hold wondrous power, power to be manipulated into whatever one wished. Each piece charged with that intent, never to cease, never to expire. Salvias had demonstrated that night, withdrawing a globe from a velvet purse, the size of an apple.

  “Charged with the power of the sun” he had smiling said, “with the ability to give off light and heat.”.

  He had held out his palm, gently cupping the globe, which began to suffuse the air about it with a rosy glow. The light grew brighter, until it reached a blinding white, the outline of the globe sitting in the centre, a point of dark in that brilliant glare. Salvias abruptly ceased, calling a young beauty from the crowd, bowing over her proffered hand, laying upon it a kiss before gently resting her fingers on the globe. After a moment she gasped. “It grows warm my Lord! Ohhh, hotter and hotter!”

  Salvias had gently removed her hand, informing the crowd that it could grow hot enough to cook with, or with fuel to start a fire. He had then thrown the globe into the air, to pulse and glow in patterns, and with a flourish it had disappeared back into the purse.

  Tomas begrudged it was an eye catching demonstration, practical in its purposes too. There was something about it, Sanguine, that caused unease in him. He knew he was not the only one, others in the crowd had repressed a shiver. Meredith had gone pale, abruptly leaving. He didn’t know why it made him uneasy, he knew slave labour was used to produce it, and though he found that despicable it was something more. Something about the Sanguine itself. Why could it only be found in the Empire? How was it empowered, what breakthrough had the discovered to securely harness this power? The answers to the nature of Sanguine were closely guarded secrets, the Empire would use it to seduce but they, the Emperor, would retain sole providence.

  A thump awoke him, and he realized he must have fallen asleep. His empty glass rolled on the floor. He bent to retrieve it, moaning as his back protested. Would he never learn to go to bed before falling asleep? One night back and already he was exploring the intrigue. Sunlight was streaming through his windows as he made his way to the bedroom, pulling heavy drapes closed against the accursed light. His head started to pound as he climbed between the sheets.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Eight of Swords

  “That was so terribly boring and he’s not even teaching us!” Llew sauntered down the corridor sneering over his shoulder at Gos.

  “I know.” Who followed close at Llew’s heels, dramatically rolling his eyes.

  “I mean, asking us what we know? How many lessons are we just going to talk for? I think we already know everything anyway, it is our country, he’s just some foreign scarecrow man. I mean obviously.”

  “Yeah Llew, you’re right. It does seem odd just going over what we do know, you would think he’d actually teach us what we don’t know…obviously.” Gos grinned.

  “And Llew, Llew, did you see his rooms? They were a mess, my father would kill me if I did that. Ha, it’s like a scarecrow in a pigsty!”

  Llew looked at the boy, Holver of Helianthus, thinking he was short and fat, and stupid it seemed. He let what he thought show on his face. Lantana threw her arm over Holver, plain boys clothes failing to disguise the dusky beauty of the Dahlia clan that shone wicked in her grin. “You won’t find a scarecrow in a pigsty mate. They belong in fields. Birds don’t eat pigs, you turnip!”

  “I knew that! I did!” Derisive laughter echoed as Holver’s lips wobbled. Llew reached the door first, framed by the harsh winter light as Gos pushed it open, and surveyed the training yard. As he walked out the frigid air gusted at his hair, pushing it onto his forehead. He gave a negligible flick and grinned. Finally he could be where he wanted to be, not stuck with pointless lessons.

  Holver stumbled out blinking. “They’re still here, I knew they would be, huh Llew, didn’t I say? Look there’s my brother! Holm! Holm!” Gos grabbed Hovers arm to stop him from waving and jumping, giving Llew a disgusted look over his head. Llew made a face back, he couldn’t believe what a baby Holver was. Anyone would think he still stayed in his nursery.

  Sure, Llew had only just moved into his apartments, he would have moved in sooner but they had to be decorated. He would never admit it to the others, but that first night had been strange. Those big, dark, silent rooms. No nurse, no Meredith. Not that he needed them. He gave Holver a push to help shut him up, and they made their way around the training yards. The pages had already broken for lunch, or a lesson, a couple of them lingering to rake the sand. They headed toward the next training yard, currently being used by the squires. They were split into two groups, one being taught archery; not really doing much, just sitting in a tight group, eyes fastened on a tall green clad knight who had a bow in hand and several others at her feet.

  The other group was much more interesting. They all had real practise swords, good steel, but nothing fancy. The squires stood in two long rows, paired off and facing each other. One side would take a defensive pose, the other attacking, then swap. They attacked and parried in time to Captain Madder’s bark.

  “ Overhead, Attack! Exchange. Attack! Exchange. Heart, Attack! Exchange. Attack! Exchange. Hamstring, Attack!”

  As he chanted he walked up and down the lines. He was tall and thickly muscled, wearing just breeches, boots and his sword- impervious to the cold. His hair was cut very short to his head, light brown curls interspersed with grey, a ragged scar ran from his crown over his forehead and down one cheek. Where his eye should be was a mass of scars, his one remaining eye brown. His bare chest revealed more scars. Small puckered ones, one long and thin curving ragged around his ribs, another where an arrow had gone in, perilously close to his heart, and had two more arrow scars on his back. He walked with a rolling, limping gait. Each time he cried attack, spittle flew from his mouth. Every now and then he would step close to a squire, adjusting his grip or swing, kicking their feet into a better stance.

  Llew couldn’t wait to be a knight but he promised himself he would be a better at avoiding injury than Captain Madder, or a least invest in some really good armour. He didn’t want to look that grisly. Though he wouldn’t mind a few scars to demonstrate his valour. The boys crowded on the squares edge, making sure as to not get in the way. Last week Captain Madder had decided they were too close and distracting the squires who he said were ‘indolent, fatted calves waiting for the slaughter’, and then told the ‘feckless ninny-boys’ to go to the weapons stores and start polishing.

  The boys had spent all morning in that room reeking of old sweat and oil and, although annoying, they did have fun going over the swear words they’d heard Captain Madder frequently use. Llew and Lantana had even dared to have a mock fight, with overlarge helmets and swords as big as they. They other boys had been terrified they would get caught, although they thought it was hilarious and daring. As far as Llew knew, no one had found out.

  “Look at him! Mama says that he must be eating his fellow squires, because every time he comes home he’s twice the size! He’s nearly as tall as Father now, I think. Did you know that in the spring some of the older squires are going on a trip, a recon of the Aumorran border? Ho
lm’s going, his knight was posted there before he came back to court and chose Holm. Holm’s knight said that Holm is more skilful than any Aumorran warlord, he says that even a couple of our pages could beat a Aumorran soldier! I bet you could, couldn’t you Llew?”

  Llew raised his eyebrow, remembering Captain Madder’s scars. “Obviously, I’m not afraid of stinking Aumorrans. I bet even you could take them on, Holver.”

  There was much shoving after that, and all agreed that they could take on the Aumorrans. Why not, thought Llew, it’s not like they had crossed the border for about five years now. Or something like that.

  Llew eyed Holm. Holver was right, he was really big. The younger squires were gangly and tall, and although Holm was only a second year he looked like the oldest squires. In fact he already looked like a man fully grown, apart from the distinct lack of facial hair. Llew glanced at Holver; they had the same mousy brown hair and arched nose, but apart from that they didn’t look anything alike. Llew didn’t think Holver could ever grow up that much, Holm must have been big even at their age.

  Lantana pulled Llew’s shoulder, turning him around, and spoke in an awe hushed voice. “Look, it’s Lord Knight Caderos of the House of Twining Ivy! I heard he had come back from Merida.”

  Gos came close to Llew’s other side, eyes wide. “Who is he then? I haven’t seen him since I’ve been at court.”

  Llew couldn’t help but gape at him. How could he not know who Lord Caderos was? The Lord Knight Caderos. “What? Honestly? I know your parents don’t come to court much, but really, you don’t know who he is? You better go make friends with the scarecrow!”

  “No I don’t! What have my parents to do with it? They’re coming more now…”