Free The Twilight Herald: Book Two Of The Twilight Reign by Tom Lloyd Page A

is not in question, but I must know what other allegiances my nobles hold. The events in Narkang and Thotel mean I cannot afford to be ignorant of anything, certainly not the activities of my subjects.’
    ‘The rumours about Thotel are true then?’ Suzerain Saroc interjected before Torl could continue his objections. He was very conscious that the dark monks and the Ghosts were eyeing each other suspiciously, and neither side had yet sheathed their weapons. ‘Has Lord Styrax has taken the city and torn down the Temple of the Sun?’
    Isak nodded. ‘So I’ve been told.’
    ‘But what about Narkang? Were you not returning to claim your inheritance because you felt Lord Bahl’s death?’
    ‘Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as that. These parts may see more fighting before—’
    ‘My Lord,’ the ranger Jeil broke in, ‘I need your help.’
    Isak nodded at the suzerains and returned to Carel. He crouched down beside Jeil to inspect the damaged limb. Carel was terribly pale, and sweat poured off him as he panted, almost gasping for breath.
    ‘I can’t save it,’ Jeil said calmly. He was too experienced to bother trying to hide the truth from Carel. ‘You’re his best chance.’
    ‘Me? I’ve never done anything like this,’ Isak protested.
    Jeil pointed at Eolis. ‘The marshal doesn’t need a healer, not at the moment. He needs a butcher, and saving your pardon, my Lord, you’re the best we have. Eolis will give the cleanest cut, and with a touch you can cauterise the wound.’
    Isak looked down at Carel. He could see the old man was weakening before his eyes.
    ‘There’s no other way?’
    ‘None.’
    Isak looked around, but none would meet his gaze. He stood and drew Eolis. Carel couldn’t stop himself howling in pain as Jeil manoeuvred the injured arm away from the body and indicated where Isak should cut. As Isak raised the slim sword, he looked at Duke Certinse, a glare of such pure venom that the duke shrank back in fear.
    ‘On a spike,’ Isak growled. He slashed down.

CHAPTER 4
    ‘Lord Isak, your health.’ Suzerain Saroc, looking markedly different dressed up in silks and fine linens, raised his goblet for the other guests to follow. A bronze brooch bearing his chalice device was pinned to his left shoulder and he now sported his earrings of rank - though the three hoops through his left ear were not plain gold, like those worn by Count Vesna and Suzerain Torl; his were intricately carved and set with flecks of jet. To Isak’s intense surprise, the deeply religious Saroc, last seen dressed in dour black, had transformed into something of a peacock once they reached his estate.
    The men echoed the suzerain’s words; the women, all wearing tight-wrapped dresses and feathers in their hair, hmmm ed agreement. It was the first time Isak had participated in a formal Farlan toast, but Tila had found a few minutes to coach him in his expected role -which largely boiled down to draining his cup whenever his name was mentioned. He still didn’t grasp why only men carrying weapons were allowed to speak above a mutter, though she had pointed out one or two wearing ceremonial swords solely for that purpose.
    Emptying his goblet: Isak was more than willing to do that in the name of protocol, and he did so with a flourish. He nodded graciously to each of the noblemen around the table and set his goblet down for it to be refilled - but somehow he miscalculated, and the thump as it hit the table caused the bowl of rice beside it to jump and overturn. He frowned at the table; it seemed to be closer than he’d first thought - but when he looked up, he realised there were startled faces turned his way. Perhaps that had been a little loud; suddenly he was reminded that his huge frame was oversized for this rather delicate dining hall.
    A hot feeling began at the back of his neck as he felt the eyes of the room on him. With painstaking care he disentangled his fingers from the goblet and raised his hand in