Marl moved on, finally reaching the Moidart’s private chamber. It was less well furnished than the guest room he himself occupied. As he floated there he felt another presence. His spirit spun.
The spirit of Kurol Ryder hung suspended in the air, scanning the room. In the flesh Kurol Ryder was a good looking man, but Marl had never quite adjusted to the spirit features; the pale, sickly scaled faces and the blood eyes. Happily, spirits generated no reflection in mirrors and Marl had never had to see himself in such a light.
‘No problem here,’ said Kurol Ryder. ‘The lock is old and will be easily picked. If I suffocate him it might look as if he died in his sleep.’
‘No,’ said Marl. ‘Cut his throat as he sleeps. Less possibility of anything going wrong.’
‘As you wish, sir.’
Marl could feel the pull of his body. Unlike the other Redeemers he could not hold this ethereal form for long. Dizziness touched him, and he returned to his body with a start. His head was pounding painfully and he took a pinch of willow powder from his pouch, placing it on his tongue. He felt a little sick and rose from the bed. From the window he could look out over the mountains to the north, towering peaks, crowned with snow. Marl closed his eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for the nausea to pass.
He heard a light knock at his door. After a moment it opened and the powerfully built Kannit Persan stepped inside. For a big man he moved gracefully, always in balance. Kannit spent an inordinate amount of time on honing his body. Whenever time allowed he would be found running through the hills, or heaving weights. He maintained that had he not been from a noble family he would have become a circle fighter, like the great Chain Shada. Marl was not so sure. Kannit Persan – a handsome man with fine aquiline features – had a habit of pausing by mirrors and enjoying his reflection. The thought of a broken and twisted nose, or scarred brows, would be anathema to him.
‘It is a fine house,’ said Kannit. ‘A shame we will not be staying long. The grounds are extensive and there is a track leading up into the hills. One of the servants told me it extends over four miles through some beautiful country. I’d like the opportunity to run it.’
‘Another time,’ promised Marl. ‘Kurol is prepared. Are you?’
‘Of course. It will be simpler without the Harvester.’
‘I would be happier had we seen his body,’ said Marl.
‘One shot in the centre of his back, one in his chest. Even if he survived he’s not going to be in any condition to save his master,’ pointed out Kannit.
‘What do you make of Galliott?’
Kannit shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘An ordinary soldier, no more no less. I could take him in a heartbeat. There’s an interesting painting on the gallery,’ he said. ‘A beautiful woman – with one green eye and one gold. Just like Macon. Must be something that runs in the family.’
The Moidart’s grandmother, I understand,’ said Marl. ‘She was a real beauty in her day.’
A servant arrived, bowed, and requested them to join the Moidart in the dining hall.
Marl and Kannit strolled down the stairs. Kurol Ryder was waiting for them, and the three Redeemers followed Galliott to the doorway of a long room, where a fire was blazing in a deep hearth. Here the officer left them, drawing shut the door behind him.
‘Welcome, my friends,’ said the Moidart. ‘Please be seated.’ He glanced at Marl. ‘You, I think, are Marl Coper. Be so kind as to introduce your friends.’
Marl did so. Both the Redeemers rose and bowed as he named them. ‘Kurol Ryder,’ said the Moidart. ‘Are your family from the Deppersom manor?’
‘Yes, lord.’
‘I knew your father many years ago. He served at Eldacre back during the first clan rising. A fine soldier. Utterly ruthless and totally dedicated. Such men are rare. Is he well?’
‘He died, lord, five years ago.’
‘But you follow the family tradition of service to your lord. Commendable. It is what raises the Varlish above lesser races.’ He swung to Kannit. ‘You, sir, I do not know, but you have the look of the Varlish about you. Cold eyes. Most becoming.’