‘It is a charming piece,’ said Jasaray to Bran, ignoring Fiallach. ‘Please convey my gratitude to your brother, Connavar.’
Bran looked into the emperor’s eyes and felt the thrill of fear. For in that gaze he saw the keen intelligence of the man. ‘My king says to tell you that he remembers with great affection the time he spent with you on the Perdii campaign, and he will be delighted to hear that you are in good health.’
‘Indeed I am, Lord Bran. Which is more, I understand, than can be said for your brother. How are his wounds?’
‘I had not realized the news had travelled this far, Majesty. Connavar is well, his wounds minor. The assassins, however, did not fare so well. He slew three himself. The fourth was taken and put to the questioning.’
‘Do you mean tortured?’ asked Jasaray, still examining the dagger.
‘No, Majesty. We have a druid with great skill. He spoke to the man and elicited the truth from him.’
‘Ah the truth. And what was the truth?’
‘He and the others were hired by a merchant to kill the king.’
‘Tricky creatures, merchants,’ said Jasaray, replacing the dagger in its box. ‘They yearn only for money. I take it the king had refused him some request?’
‘We have yet to ascertain that, Majesty. The merchant fled across the water and took refuge in Stone.’
‘Well, you must supply the name and I will see he is hunted down and brought to trial.’ Jasaray rose from his throne. ‘My men will show you and your aide to your quarters, where you may bathe if it pleases you. This afternoon you will both be my guests at the Palantes Stadium. Later we can talk of political matters.’
‘Thank you, Majesty,’ said Bran, offering another bow. He waited until Jasaray had left the throne room. One of the king’s guards took the dagger box, then he and Fiallach followed another silver-garbed soldier to a suite of rooms. Once inside Bran sat down in a deep chair, while Fiallach cast off his cloak and stretched out on a couch.
‘He’s a cold man,’ said Fiallach, speaking in Keltoi.
‘Aye, but canny. He showed no reaction when we spoke of the merchant. Perhaps he knew nothing of it.’
Fiallach said nothing. Brother Solstice had warned them both about hidden chambers behind the walls, where spies might lurk, noting down their conversation.
Beyond the main room was a garden, and Bran gestured Fiallach to follow him out. Once outside they wandered along a curving, neatly paved path, stopping here and there to look at the many flowers. Bran glanced around, sure that from here they could not be overheard. ‘You kept your temper well, my friend,’ he said.
‘Perhaps I’m getting older and wiser,’ said Fiallach, but there was anger in his eyes.
‘They all know of you, and your skills. They probably also know of your legendary temper. It is vital you do not react to any . . . discourtesy.’
‘I know that, Bran. By Taranis, you have been labouring the point for the entire journey!’
Bran smiled. ‘You are right. My apologies. I wonder if Nalademus will be at our meeting.’
‘I don’t much care who is there,’ said Fiallach. ‘I still don’t know why Conn accepted this invitation. And there is more than a chance we’ll be held hostage.’
Bran nodded and the two men continued their walk around the garden. They came to a small man-made pond, over which a wooden bridge had been raised. Bran leaned on the rail and looked down into the still water, gazing at his reflection. Like Fiallach he had not relished this trip, and was missing Gwen and their three boys terribly. He thought of them constantly, wondering whether little Orrin had mastered his fear of riding, and if his eldest son, Ruathain, had regained his strength following the fever. The boy had been so weak. Brother Solstice had tended him well, but Bran knew that secondary illnesses could often prove fatal.
‘We cannot refuse the invitation,’ Connavar had told him. ‘It would be seen as both weak and hostile. Obviously Jasaray needs something from us. Find out what it is, and report it back.’