the Archivist without hesitation. ‘Experience is limited, while knowledge can be gained from many other beings’ experiences.’
‘But knowledge without experience . . .’ she began.
He finished, ‘. . . limits how well that knowledge can be applied.’
‘What is missing?’
‘You need a teacher.’
She smiled. ‘Yes. If you teach me, I will let you live; more, I will hunt for you.’
Seeing the powerful young female before him, the Archivist knew there was only one answer that would enable him to live beyond the few seconds. ‘I will teach you. I am Belog.’
‘I am Child. Come, eat with me.’
Seeing nothing odd in it, the Archivist joined his new student in feasting on the two servants who had moments before been his companions. He considered that while he had not devoured a companion since his youth it was, after all, the way of the People.
No matter how civilized their King Dahun might have tried to make them, they were at heart the same as the Savage Ones or the Mad Ones. At their core they were all demons.
Chapter Five
Court
T HE HERALDS BLEW THEIR TRUMPETS .
The entire court turned and bowed as the King of Roldem entered, escorting his wife to their twin thrones at the far end of the great hall of the palace.
The hall was bedecked in the royal colours, large banners of powder blue with golden trim, featuring the dolphin crest of the royal house. The King’s personal guard likewise wore tabards of the same colours, but the rest of the evening’s finery was a riot of different hues.
In years past the fashion of the court had gone through a phase Jim Dasher thought of as ‘drab’. Muted grey and black attire for the men and deep, dark colours for the women’s gowns, but this season those who decided such things had decreed that bright festive colours would be the choice. Jim felt a little odd in a brilliant green tunic and yellow leggings. He prayed that trousers would return to fashion soon; he disliked tights.
His black boots were ankle-high and the most valued item he wore; despite their fashionable appearance they were durable and versatile, just as useful for clambering over rooftops without slipping as for slogging through the sewers, since they could be cleaned with a simple wipe of a cloth.
Jim hadn’t clambered over a rooftop or slogged through a sewer for a few years, but some habits were hard to break. He glanced around the room.
Young Lord Henry stood next to Ty Hawkins, while Talwin Hawkins was in conversation with a minor Keshian noble. Jim made a note to ask Tal what the Keshian had wanted to speak of. He knew that war was almost certainly coming and he knew that every agent of Kesh in the Kingdom Sea region would be gathering every scrap of information out there, as were his own agents, some fifteen of which were currently on this island.
Jim kept his frustration buried: to the casual onlooker he would be another minor Kingdom noble come to the court of Roldem for personal or political gain, but one hardly worth more than a cursory examination despite his famous grandfather. At this point in his career, Jim knew he was known to his enemies, who were many, and appeared transparent to those who weren’t. This was as he wished it, for as long as the pretence was kept up, no harm would come to him when he appeared openly at court. It was when he vanished from sight and emerged among the shadows that murder would begin.
Jim moved among the crowd making his way slowly towards the throne. He could expect to be presented to the King in about an hour, some time just before the Champion of the Masters’ Court was presented.
He studied young Ty Hawkins, involved in an animated conversation with Henry conDoin. The King of the Isles’ distant cousin listened with a smile as his opponent of the previous day told a tale.
It was on young men such as these that the fate of the Kingdom of the Isles, and perhaps all of Triagia, would turn, Jim knew. Capable young men who were free of
‘But knowledge without experience . . .’ she began.
He finished, ‘. . . limits how well that knowledge can be applied.’
‘What is missing?’
‘You need a teacher.’
She smiled. ‘Yes. If you teach me, I will let you live; more, I will hunt for you.’
Seeing the powerful young female before him, the Archivist knew there was only one answer that would enable him to live beyond the few seconds. ‘I will teach you. I am Belog.’
‘I am Child. Come, eat with me.’
Seeing nothing odd in it, the Archivist joined his new student in feasting on the two servants who had moments before been his companions. He considered that while he had not devoured a companion since his youth it was, after all, the way of the People.
No matter how civilized their King Dahun might have tried to make them, they were at heart the same as the Savage Ones or the Mad Ones. At their core they were all demons.
Chapter Five
Court
T HE HERALDS BLEW THEIR TRUMPETS .
The entire court turned and bowed as the King of Roldem entered, escorting his wife to their twin thrones at the far end of the great hall of the palace.
The hall was bedecked in the royal colours, large banners of powder blue with golden trim, featuring the dolphin crest of the royal house. The King’s personal guard likewise wore tabards of the same colours, but the rest of the evening’s finery was a riot of different hues.
In years past the fashion of the court had gone through a phase Jim Dasher thought of as ‘drab’. Muted grey and black attire for the men and deep, dark colours for the women’s gowns, but this season those who decided such things had decreed that bright festive colours would be the choice. Jim felt a little odd in a brilliant green tunic and yellow leggings. He prayed that trousers would return to fashion soon; he disliked tights.
His black boots were ankle-high and the most valued item he wore; despite their fashionable appearance they were durable and versatile, just as useful for clambering over rooftops without slipping as for slogging through the sewers, since they could be cleaned with a simple wipe of a cloth.
Jim hadn’t clambered over a rooftop or slogged through a sewer for a few years, but some habits were hard to break. He glanced around the room.
Young Lord Henry stood next to Ty Hawkins, while Talwin Hawkins was in conversation with a minor Keshian noble. Jim made a note to ask Tal what the Keshian had wanted to speak of. He knew that war was almost certainly coming and he knew that every agent of Kesh in the Kingdom Sea region would be gathering every scrap of information out there, as were his own agents, some fifteen of which were currently on this island.
Jim kept his frustration buried: to the casual onlooker he would be another minor Kingdom noble come to the court of Roldem for personal or political gain, but one hardly worth more than a cursory examination despite his famous grandfather. At this point in his career, Jim knew he was known to his enemies, who were many, and appeared transparent to those who weren’t. This was as he wished it, for as long as the pretence was kept up, no harm would come to him when he appeared openly at court. It was when he vanished from sight and emerged among the shadows that murder would begin.
Jim moved among the crowd making his way slowly towards the throne. He could expect to be presented to the King in about an hour, some time just before the Champion of the Masters’ Court was presented.
He studied young Ty Hawkins, involved in an animated conversation with Henry conDoin. The King of the Isles’ distant cousin listened with a smile as his opponent of the previous day told a tale.
It was on young men such as these that the fate of the Kingdom of the Isles, and perhaps all of Triagia, would turn, Jim knew. Capable young men who were free of
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