Bloodheir by Brian Ruckley Read Free Book Online

again.
    “You come after many great men. Croesan not the least of them, of course. Your uncle was a worthy successor to Sirian. Always firm in the defence of Lannis-Haig interests.”
    At the expense of proper deference to Gryvan oc Haig, Orisian guessed was the unspoken implication.
    He swallowed down another gulp of wine, hoping to quench the first flicker of anger in his breast.
    Silence, he had concluded, was much the wisest course here. The sooner it was all over, the better.
    “A terrible blow, Croesan’s loss,” the Shadowhand said, with a sad shake of his head. “He would have been the very man to lead your people against the Black Road. The very man. It will be hard to measure up to his memory, but I am sure you will one day stand just as tall. We must ensure that you have the chance to grow, eh?”
    The tone of Mordyn’s words was convivial, yet Orisian had the nagging sense that the Chancellor was belittling him. He hoped that his face would not betray his mounting irritation. Mordyn dropped his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, so low that Orisian had to angle his head to catch it.
    “You may find Aewult nan Haig somewhat overbearing – many do, I’m afraid – but he will not be here for long. Once he has restored your rightful lands to you, the Bloodheir will be gone in no time. And when you come to Vaymouth, you will find the High Thane much more . . . amenable. You’ve never been to Vaymouth, have you?”
    “No.” The Shadowhand’s assumption that he would be making that journey had caught him unawares. It was not something to which he had given even a moment’s thought.
    “It’s a wonderful city. Truly, you can’t imagine until you have seen it. But then Taim Narran may have told you of it, since he’s so recently passed through? How is he, by the way? When I spoke with him in Vaymouth he was very distressed. We’d only then heard the first rumours of the Black Road stirring, as I recall.”
    “He’s well,” Orisian said. “As well as any of us are, at least.”
    “Indeed. It’s perhaps improper of me to say anything, but you may be well advised not to bring him to Vaymouth with you when you come. He and the High Thane did not part on the best of terms, you know. Taim Narran may be richly gifted in the matter of war – exceptionally so, by all account – but . . .
    well, you understand, I’m sure.” Again, Mordyn smiled. It was an expression so winning, so open, that it elicited its pale reflection upon Orisian’s lips before he could help himself. “Anyway, there’s not one of us can say he is without fault. For all Aewult’s failings, he knows how to lead an army. He will make short work of the Black Road, Thane, you need not concern yourself over that. We can leave that bloody business to those with more experience of such things than you or I.”
    “I don’t mean to let others shoulder my burdens for me,” Orisian said, the words sounding harder and angrier than he had intended.
    The Chancellor shrugged. “Of course. But a wise man would never turn his back on good fortune. The High Thane has sent his own son – his Bloodheir, no less – to fight this battle on your behalf. You would not cast aside the cloak of his protection, would you?”
    “No,” said Orisian. No other answer was possible; even he, in his inexperience, knew that.
    “No.” Mordyn nodded. “Believe me, Thane, the wisest course here is to stand aside and let those with battle running through their veins resolve matters.”
    “My Blood fought alone until now,” Orisian snapped, his self-control faltering. “Our . . . my people would not expect me to stand aside and let others finish the struggle.”
    “You think not?” The eyes above the smiling mouth were piercing and fixed. Orisian’s anger melted away, replaced by unease. He wondered if he had crossed some invisible, and dangerous, boundary; and whether he had done it himself or been led there by the Shadowhand.
    “Well, perhaps you are