The White Robe by Clare Smith Page B

grateful for your intervention. Without you coming to their aid they would have lost their homes and their lands. As it is, only the coastal lords lost anything and most of that can be rebuilt using the wealth we took from the north men’s boats. And then there are the slaves we have taken. They have been particularly useful in raising the men’s spirits.”
     
    Borman looked up and Rastor gave him a wolfish grin. “You have tried one?”
     
    “Several, My Lord. They fight like demons but we have them chained so their claws can’t reach you but they do grunt and squirm as you plough them. Perhaps my lord would like to take his pleasure with one or two?” Borman shook his head and took a gulp of wine, grimacing at the acid taste. “There are a few boys worth having as well if you would prefer, My Lord. They’re not virgins any more but some are still tight enough to make the experience worthwhile.”
     
    “No, Rastor, I’m not in the mood tonight for such pleasures. No, what I need is news. Is there no word from Callabris?”
     
    “No, My Lord. We escorted him as far as the border of Tarbis and then left him there. His protector has returned to the Enclave and as far as I know he’s still there.”
     
    Borman scowled and stared thoughtfully into the fire. “I shouldn’t have separated them. Callabris is too vulnerable to be without his protector and if anything should happen to Callabris I will be at a disadvantage. What I need is another magician; a black would be good but failing that another white who knows how to look after himself and has more ambition than Callabris and has less scruples.
     
    “I wonder if there’s any more news of that boy we watched in Vinmore? Callabris was very taken with him and thought he had potential. That was some years back so he must have improved by now. Perhaps I should take a trip to the Enclave whilst I’m in the north and talk to the High Master and even sample some of the delights that the acolytes offer to important visitors.”
     
    “Travelling through Essenland uninvited may be more difficult now that Vorgret is king,” suggested Rastor. “I hear that he has posted more men on his borders and that anyone who travels through his kingdom without his permission is taken for ransom or to work in his silver mines.”
     
    “Don’t be so stupid. He’s hardly going to attack the king of Northshield on the way to worship at the goddess’s temple is he? Yes, that would get me out of this dreary hole and if the boy is there I could purchase him. With a magician like that at my command I could move into any of the six kingdoms any time I pleased. Even Sandstrone would fall before me. Talking of Sandstrone, has there been any news of my cousin?”
     
    “None as yet, My Lord. The girl has been sent to Vorgret to serve his needs and I have returned Prince Iselin’s remains after my men had finished playing with him. It wasn’t a pretty sight so I expect Tallison will take his revenge out on Rothers and will return him in pieces at some time in the future. It’s a pity about Rothers though; he made a good body servant and he was the nearest thing you have to a successor.”
     
    Rastor took a deep breath. This wasn’t the best time to talk about the succession but as he had raised the subject and had not been instantly dismissed he decided to continue. “Your Majesty, some of the lords have been talking amongst themselves and they are really concerned about the succession and what will happen to Northshield if you have no son to follow you.” He waited for the usual explosion of anger when the succession was mentioned but only received an irritated grunt. “Some of the lords say that you should name a successor and take them into your confidence just in case.”
     
    “I bet they do,” snapped Borman. “What do you think would happen if I raised one of them up to be my heir?”
     
    Rastor thought about it for a moment. “I suppose the others would be a bit