Bloodheir by Brian Ruckley Read Free Book Online Page B

merits a close watch. Whether he likes it or not, he’s a potent figurehead for his Blood. All of this can yet end up very well for us, but not if we find ourselves burdened with an over-confident Lannis Blood, led by an ambitious young Thane.”
    “Very well. I still think you worry too much, though.”
    The Shadowhand shot Lagair a pointed glance and was rewarded with a flash of humility and nervousness in the Steward’s face.
    “Fortunately, what you think is of less import than what I choose to worry about,” Mordyn said, articulating the words with precision.
    The Steward smiled half-heartedly in agreement. Mordyn suspected that almost everything he did, even carousing with his whore, he did half-heartedly.
    “If there’s glory to be had here, it’s Haig that must harvest it,” the Chancellor mused.
    That, he thought with a touch of despondency, meant Aewult nan Haig. There were few people he judged less worthy of glory, but the Bloodheir was here and he would have to serve. The Lannis-Haig Blood must be indebted to Haig for its salvation, thus Aewult must work that salvation.
    “I will talk to Aewult,” he continued. “We must ensure that Orisian stays here while we recover his homeland for him. And you, Steward: what is the state of your contacts here? Have you the means to set some rumours running in the backstreets and the markets?”
    “If there is one thing I have learned in all my years,” said Lagair with a self-satisfied smirk, “it is that no Steward worth his title should ever be without the means to stir up a rumour or two.”
    “Very well. Put it about that Orisian escaped the Black Road only because he fled and because he took sanctuary with woodwights and half-humans. And that he is too young and untried to save his Blood. All of those thoughts will already be rattling around somewhere in this rats’ nest of a city. Feed them; encourage them.”
    Lagair nodded compliantly.
    “Foolish of him to bring a na’kyrim here with him,” Mordyn said.
    “They’ve got her hidden away somewhere in the Tower, by all accounts. Lheanor’s done everything he can to keep it quiet, the same way he’s got those Kyrinin locked up out of sight. Word always gets out, though. It’s no way for a new Thane to win favour, that’s certain: consorting with halfbreeds and wights.”
    “I would be curious to see that na’kyrim , though,” the Chancellor said, as much to himself as to the Steward. “I always found it . . . interesting that Kennet nan Lannis-Haig kept a na’kyrim counsellor. Such a thing might be useful, I suppose, if one could overcome the hostility of the common folk.”
    Lagair Haldyn snorted. “Not useful enough, given what befell Kennet.”
    “Well, it does not matter now. Do you know of a man called Ochan, by the way?”
    “Ochan Lyre? The Cook, they call him, but I cannot guess what such as he would have done to merit your attention.”
    “If you cannot guess, better not to try. If there is one thing I have learned in all my years, Steward, which have been rather more demandingly spent than yours, it is that speculation quickly leads the unwary onto unsafe ground.”
    “Of course, Chancellor. Well . . . Ochan the Cook. A smuggler, by reputation, and a thief and a usurer.”
    “He is under someone’s protection, then, if he has the reputation but hasn’t been taken?”
    The Steward shrugged. “He must have some arrangement, I imagine; with the Guard, most likely. Has the poor man incurred your displeasure in some way?”
    “Not personally. But if he does not pay the tithes and taxes that he rightfully should . . . if the Kilkry-Haig Blood is incapable of controlling their own people, they should be encouraged towards a more stringent attitude. Can you make it happen? Can you unpick whatever protection he enjoys?”
    Lagair pursed his lips in thought. It seemed an affected gesture to Mordyn, but he suppressed his impatience.
    “I could,” said the Steward. “Yes, I believe I