Prologue
Makaran is the Seat of Civilisation
Ilfin Tenet
Makaran
The
Makar Palace Garden
FENN
MORAVIN GLANCED over his left shoulder, certain he was being followed.
The golden
stars of rank upon the shoulders of his dress uniform would be obvious to
watchers far and near, and he cursed silently, wishing he had chosen something
less conspicuous to wear to this forthcoming meeting. On the other hand, if he
was caught out of uniform in the Palace Gardens, his lack of formal attire
would raise questions he could not adequately answer. Watchers or not, it was
expected of the Brigadier-General to wander in dress uniform here; hopefully
those watchers would assume he had been to see the king.
The
Pavilion in the centre of the lily pond fell into shadow as he approached. One
moment beams of white sunlight bathed it in benevolence and the next it
darkened into columns of shivering spectres. This was merely due to cloud
covering the sun, but it became an omen to the soldier marching rapidly towards
it.
He was
about to betray his king and in these moments of shifting light it seemed to
him as if that king was aware of his every action and thought.
The
king’s brother, Lord Lorn Makar, lounged upon the stone bench under the
crenelated ceiling of the Pavilion, watching him approach, his long dark hair
intricately braided. The hairs in the nape of Moravin’s neck spiked to
attention. This particular watcher was probably the most dangerous man on
Makaran, more so than any other potential witness to their clandestine meeting.
This man was about to change the fate of their world, their civilisation and
history, and he would do so without a shred of conscience.
The
king’s brother was a traitor also.
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