hunter’s moon at its zenith. The memory of Brother Hobble, struggling with his crutch and scowling down at the ground, had haunted him all day. Clearly he had not forgiven Isak for the injury, divine retribution or no, and Isak certainly couldn’t blame him for that: constant pain and the end to his life as a Swordmaster were hard things to forgive - although the latter must have been the man’s own choice, knowing Swordmaster Kerin as he did. It was the heroes of war who gained Farlan titles and fame, and there were dozens of men who’d found their place in the Land through being a champion of the Ghosts.
‘Contemplating the futility of existence, my Lord?’
Isak whirled around at the unknown voice, Eolis flashing from its sheath. The silver blade glowed in the moonlight as a man stepped from the shadows with a chuckle. A sword remained sheathed on his back while his hands were held out in Farlan greeting.
‘With such gifts, who could lead a futile life?’
‘Who are you?’ Isak tried to make out the man’s face. He wasn’t Farlan; his lighter hair and darker complexion made him look more Western, if anything. His dress was dark, functional, reminding Isak of the King’s Men of Narkang. Not quite a soldier, and more than one.
‘I am Ilumene.’ There was a pause. The man stood with the ghost of a sardonic smile on his lips. Isak had the oddest sensation, that Ilumene was not just a King’s Man, he could be King Emin’s son -though of course he could not be, as he was some thirty summers old, and Queen Oterness was well noted for having failed to produce an heir . . . but this man did have every ounce of Emin’s mocking arrogance.
‘For a man who seems to like the sound of his own voice, you’ve gone suddenly quiet,’ Isak said. ‘If you don’t want me to run you through, perhaps you would care to explain yourself in a little more detail?’
The edge in Isak’s growling voice served only to widen Ilumene’s smile. The man had two scars on his otherwise handsome face, on the left-hand side. One skirted the ridge of his eyebrow; the second was a jagged cut down the outside of his cheek.
‘I am of the Brotherhood.’ Ilumene gave a chuckle and turned his head to the right to give Isak a better view of his scar. ‘But as you can see, my duties have not left me unsullied.’ The base of his earlobe that would have carried the Heart rune had been torn away by the cut. When Ilumene pointed at his ear, Isak saw a network of criss-crossing scars on his hands, as though the man had been dragged through a bramble bush of steel thorns.
‘Strange that you didn’t appear when Morghien was here.’
For an instant Ilumene looked genuinely shocked. ‘I didn’t know Morghien had been in the region. Come to think of it, I didn’t know you and he were known to each other. It seems I have much to catch up on. When did he leave?’
‘Today, this morning.’
‘I’m surprised he didn’t wait then; I’ve not seen him for a long time. I was starting to wonder whether he could sniff us out - I can’t remember how often he’s stepped out from behind the only tree around on a deserted stretch of road.’
Isak relaxed a little. There may have been something odd about Ilumene, but he’d not liked all of those Brothers he’d met in Narkang either -the tall, blond one with a scar all the way down the side of his face, Beyn; King Emin and Doranei were confident of his loyalty, but there was something about the man’s face that Isak didn’t care for. I suspect it’s just because he has a white-eye’s arrogance , he thought, being honest with himself.
As it was clear that Ilumene did know Morghien, and Isak was certain the wanderer wasn’t one for casual acquaintances, he sheathed Eolis.
Ilumene stepped a yard closer so they could speak normally.
‘Well, I suppose that also answers how you got past the guards,’ Isak commented. ‘I hope you didn’t hurt any of them.’
Ilumene gave a small smile.
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