Shadowgod by Michael Cobley Read Free Book Online Page A

related what had happened, including the strange parting thanks. To his surprise, Nerek gave a dry laugh.
    “She was right,” she said. “I
will
have to ask Bardow about learning to use the Lesser Power.”

Chapter Three
    In the mirror of souls
Strange things take root
    —The Book Of Earth And Stone
    Kulberisti Longmarket, also known as the City of Stalls, was a canopied street which led from the end of Respil Road to the east side of Five Kings Dock. Archmage Bardow had spent most of the morning in three important meetings, the last of which had involved arguing over tariffs and embargoes with Besh-Darok’s richest merchants in Trade Guild offices near the Gauntlet Gate. When the time came to leave for the Low Coronation, Respil Road was the obvious route to take.
    But it seemed that everyone else in this quarter had arrived at the same conclusion - Kulberisti Longmarket was one continuous, chattering mass of people shuffling north towards the narrow alleyway bottleneck which was the main way to the docks. On either side of the noisy throng food and drink stalls were doing a roaring trade but that was no comfort to Bardow and his companions who were stuck at the centre of the river of bodies and had scarcely moved in nearly ten minutes.
    Serjeant Jamek, the commander of Bardow’s small six-man escort, had been surveying the crowds ahead and turned to speak.
    “They are making almost no progress, ser Bardow. It also appears that a brawl has now broken out at the far end of the market and the city guards are having trouble reaching it. Perhaps for the safety of yourself and the lady Ffion we should consider making a detour.”
    “Through one of those houses?” said Ffion. “But there are people living there.”
    Bardow’s red-haired assistant had journeyed from Krusivel soon after the Battle of Besh-Darok, and in resuming her role had shown a welcome aptitude for paperwork. Bardow also found her kindness and warmth a much-needed balance to his daily struggle with city politics.
    “All we need is a way through to the back alley, Ffion,” Bardow said reassuringly. “But we shall only ask, not demand. Serjeant - you and your men clear a way through to those buildings there. Be firm, but try not to break any heads.”
    “As you say, ser.”
    Jamek was tall and broad shouldered, and had been a Second Rul in the city militia before he was recruited to the Knights Protectorate, one of the four new orders founded by Mazaret. He and his men wore polished leather harness decorated with silver inlay, black iron collarettes, and long, dark blue cloaks. They forged a swift and efficient path through the crowd to the mean, two-storey buildings behind the stalls. The surly, bearded landlord of one dim house soon turned eager and cooperative when Bardow produced a couple of silvers from his moneybelt.
    A few moments later they were stepping out into a cold alley where thick snow had gone to grey-brown slush.
    “Is there another way to Five Kings Dock from here?” Ffion asked him.
    “Indeed there is,” Bardow said.
    “Do you have a map?” she asked.
    “Indeed I do,” Bardow said, tapping his forehead. “In here. I grew up in this city, remember. Now, if we head along this way we should find a side street to take us down to the coast road…”
    He urged them all on at a brisk pace, sensing that another snowfall was imminent. Although Jamek and his men were well-wrapped against the weather, Bardow and Ffion had on thin robes over fine indoor garb. Shivering, he wished they had brought a carriage from the palace.
    As they walked, Bardow’s thoughts went back to the morning’s meetings. The first had been with coronation officials at the palace, a summary of final, unresolved details which were promptly dealt with. The next had taken place in a small room in the Keep of Day: there he spoke to a small gathering of mages, most of whom had been reluctant to attend, and after some intense discussion persuaded them to agree