A Game of Three Hands (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 4) by Tim Stead

Author:Tim Stead [Stead, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-01T22:00:00+00:00

24 Blaye

Centuries ago, so it was written, the Kings of Samara had owned country estates, places where they would retreat and rest, be comfortable in the peaceful and ordered gardens, the beautiful houses.

Blaye was like that.

Calaine Tarnell could see as much from the Sword of Samara as they sailed into the bay. The city occupied a plain, flat as slate floor. An indolent river wound its easy way through the town, and everywhere there was the glint of water. The buildings themselves, mostly built of a striking red brick, peered through veils of trees at the sea.

It was all new to her. She had often envied her friend Corban Saine his travels. He had seen every city, travelled a hundred roads, passed through a thousand villages, but this, this short voyage, was the sum of Calaine’s adventures beyond Samara. She was both excited and apprehensive.

She had met Bren Portina before, of course. He had saved her life once, but this was the first time she would meet him with an understanding between them. She was to be his wife.

She did not doubt that he was a good man, brave and honourable, generous, well liked by his people, but to Calaine he seemed to lack anything but the most rudimentary sense of humour. She suffered from the same affliction, she knew, and she regretted that her marriage would be lacking in this respect.

She would miss Corban.

Calaine put the thought aside. It was Samara that mattered, and her duty. This alliance would secure the city and unite the west of the world for a hundred years or more.

She watched the sailors throw out half a dozen boat buoys and the boats racing to pick them up. They were towed by a crowd of oars to a mooring against an ancient stone pier where it seemed that half the city was gathered to greet her. What had been a secret in Samara was clearly a festival in Blaye.

She waited until a wide board had been placed to bridge the gap between the ship and the shore and then stepped down onto the pier. Someone had taken the trouble to carpet the stone, and there were flowers strewn everywhere.

Bren Portina, the King of Blaye, stepped out of the crowd. He had no guards at his side, and bore only a jewel-hilted dagger on his belt. Clearly here was a king who did not fear his people.

He bowed – a short, polite bow.

“I am most pleased to welcome you to Blaye, Calaine,” he said.

Calaine returned the bow with precision. “As I am glad to be here,” she said.

“Are you rested?” Portina asked.

“I am.”

“Then would you like to see something of the city? I will have your baggage taken to the house.”

“The city it is,” she replied.

There were horses waiting, and at last an escort, though they appeared more ceremonial than military. They used colour in the same way her father’s men used armour. They were adorned like sailors, but with considerably more style. Not a one of them jarred the eye.

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