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The bald Hairlock raised his hands, gesturing. Above the walls the archers suddenly turned to face one another and began loosing their arrows point-blank. The burly mage chuckled to himself as they fell one after the other. He next made a puppeteer-like motion with his hands, as if pulling unseen strings, and the remaining guards flung themselves off the tall parapets to their deaths.
‘Witnesses, my friend. Vital.’ He raised a crooked thin finger. ‘Nothing happens unless it is witnessed.’
The ancient appeared quite startled. He planted his walking stick between his feet, announcing, ‘I am Kellanved, ruler of the isles of Malaz and Nap – and the ruling authority over the city state of Cawn, and now of Li Heng also.’
This ‘Kellanved’ now stroked his chin. ‘And thinking on that…’ he turned to the blue-hued Napan woman with him, ‘does that not make me emperor? After the Talian hegemony? Ruler of more than one kingship?’
The elder opened his arms wide. ‘There we have it. Emperor Kellanved.’
She limped along, blinking, perhaps trying to focus her eyes. ‘Find a cart or a mule – I can’t walk. That Kartoolian is a powerful bastard.’ ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find something.’ ‘Then what?’ ‘Don’t know. Wasn’t joking earlier when I said I was thinking of joining the Crimson Guard.’
‘Very well,’ Choss said, shrugging. ‘Welcome to service with Malaz, Greymane.’
Courian struggled to his feet to reach out for his hand. ‘Skinner! Welcome! You are most welcome indeed.’
Suddenly, Kellanved raised his head and turned to him with a certain impish glint in his eyes. ‘Don’t you think, my friend,’ he said, ‘that it is high time we explored Shadow?’
