Quest for Lost Heroes

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chien-tsu was not a man who liked to travel. He did not like the dust of the Steppes, nor the arid, inhospitable country; most especially he abhorred the squat dwellings, the stench of the towns and the barely concealed hostility of the Nadir. It was said, back in Hao-tzing, that the Nadir were closely related to the people of the Middle Kingdom. Chien-tsu doubted it — despite the similarity of skin colour and language, he could not believe that their origins were identical. He put forward the entirely reasonable view that the gods made the Nadir first and then, realising the ghastly flaws inherent in the species, created the perfect people and gave them the Middle Kingdom for their own. This hateful visit only confirmed his theory. The Nadir did not seem disposed towards bathing, and their clothes remained unwashed from season to season — in fact, probably from decade to decade, he thought.

And what a country! Though he travelled light, which did not befit an ambassador from the Supreme City, he still found it difficult to obtain lodgings for his forty-two servants, eleven concubines and sixty members of the Guard Royal. He had been reduced to purchasing sixteen wagons to carry necessities like tents, beds, tables, chairs, soft linen sheets, harps, flutes, two enamel baths and five full-sized mirrors. And he had brought a mere twenty-five chests of personal luggage containing his own — entirely inadequate — travelling wardrobe.

Chien-tsu found it curious that the Emperor should have allowed one of his daughters to wed a savage, but a wise man did not question the decisions of the Divine One. And Chien-tsu, as all civilised men knew, was wise far beyond his thirty-two years.

He reined in his horse before the city, and sighed. The buildings were in the main unlovely, and the palace which towered at the centre — despite having an arrogant, almost primal simplicity — lacked any sense of aesthetic beauty. There were six square towers and a crenellated battlement. No banners flew. Chien-tsu halted the wagons and ordered his tent pitched. Once this was done, he had his mirrors assembled and a bath prepared. His hand-maidens washed the dust from his body and massaged him with aromatic oils; his long dark hair was carefully greased and combed, drawn back from the brow and held in place by ivory combs. Then he dressed in leggings of gold-embroidered blue silk, and shoes with golden straps. His shirt was of the whitest silk, and over this he placed a lacquered breastplate of wood and leather decorated with a golden dragon. His long, curving sword hung between his shoulder-blades, and two knives in gleaming wooden scabbards were carefully placed within the satin sash tied around his waist. He ordered the presents for Jungir Khan to be carried forward: there were seventeen chests — matching the age of the new Queen of the Nadir. It would, Chien-tsu decided, be pleasant to see Mai-syn once more. The youngest of the Emperor's legitimate daughters, she was quite breathtakingly beautiful and could play the nine-stringed harp with exquisite style.

He stepped into the saddle and led his entourage of five footmen and thirty-four bearers down towards the palace.

They were greeted by twenty soldiers, led by an officer wearing a silver chain who inclined his head in a perfunctory bow. Chien-tsu stiffened, for the bow was some six inches short of politeness. Raising his head, he looked the officer in the eye. . the silence grew. It would not be good manners to speak first, but Chien-tsu found his irritation growing.

'Well?' snapped the officer at last. 'What do you want?'

Chien-tsu was taken aback but controlled his rising temper. It would not be seemly to kill a man on his first day in the city.

'I am Chien-tsu, ambassador of the Supreme Emperor to the court of Jungir Khan. I have come with suitable gifts on the anniversary of the Queen's birthday. Kindly take me to the royal presence.'

As Chien-tsu expected, the man's expression changed; he bowed once more, this time exceeding the distance required. Then he barked out a command and the twenty soldiers turned. 'Follow me,' he told Chien.

There was no open courtyard within the great gates, merely a maze of tunnels. They emerged swiftly into a large shrub garden to the east of the gate. A line of stables stretched to the right and Chien-tsu dismounted, allowing his horse to be led away. The party was passed on to a second officer — taller than the first, he wore a silver breastplate and helm. He bowed correctly to Chien and smiled.

'Welcome, ambassador. The Lord Khan was not expecting you so swiftly.'

'Is this not the day of the anniversary?'

The man seemed confused. 'Please follow me,' he said. Chien and his party moved on into another intricate system of tunnels and corridors that opened on to a wide hallway before huge double doors of oak, mounted with silver.

Four guards stood before the doors. They stepped aside as the officer approached and the doors swung open.

Inside, to Chien's surprise, the main hall resembled a giant tent with curtains and hangings of the finest silk. At the far end, on a raised dais, the Great Khan lounged on a satin-covered divan. Chien entered and bowed low, holding the pose for the obligatory ten heartbeats.

The Khan waved him forward. 'Welcome, ambassador, this is an unexpected pleasure.' The man's voice was deep and powerful. He rose, and stepped from the dais. 'We did not expect you until tomorrow.'

Chien lifted his hands and clapped them and the thirty-four bearers moved forward to place the chests in a line before the Khan. The men backed away with heads low, eyes averted. Chien bowed once more. 'Great Khan, I have come bearing gifts from the Divine Lord of the Golden Realm, to celebrate the first year of your marriage and to enquire, on behalf of His Majesty, whether Mai-syn has continued to bring exquisite joy to your hearth.'

'Indeed she has,' answered Jungir. 'Now to the chests, if you please.'

This was not the response which Chien had been expecting, but he hid his consternation and opened the first of the silver-bound chests. Lifting clear a handsome coat of silver silk, decorated with pearls, he held it before the Khan.

'Pleasant,' commented the Khan. 'Are they all clothes?'

'No, Great Khan,' said Chien, forcing a smile. He opened the second chest, which was filled with emeralds, some the size of a man's fist.

'What is this worth in your land in, say, horses and men?' asked the Khan.

'A man could equip an army of ten thousand lances for a full summer,' Chien answered.

'Good. I like them. And the others?'

Some contained gold, others perfumes and spices or articles of clothing. The last chest produced the strongest response from the Nadir warlord. From it Chien lifted a sabre of dazzling brightness. The hilt-guard was of gold inset with gems, and the hilt was bound with gold thread. But the pommel-stone was milky-white and carved into the head of a wolf.

Jungir took the blade and slashed the air. 'It is perfect,' he said, his eyes shining. 'The balance is beyond belief and the edge is remarkable. Truly I am pleased. Relay my thanks to your king; tell him I had not realised his lands delivered such wealth. When will you be starting back — tomorrow?'

'As you wish, Great Khan.'

'Tomorrow would be good for you, for the winter will be closing in on the ports and I would not like your journey to be uncomfortable.'

'It is kind of you to concern yourself over my comforts; but His Majesty has required me to see his daughter, and to carry her a message of his love and devotion.'

'I will give her that message,' said Jungir loftily.

'And I do not doubt, Great Khan, that you would deliver it more skilfully than I. But my king ordered me to see her and, as I am sure you will agree, a subject must always obey the order of his liege lord.'

'Indeed,' said Jungir, 'but I fear that will not be possible. The. . Queen is at my palace in the south. It is a two-month journey. I am sure your king will understand that you could not fulfil his wishes.'

'But I can, Great Khan. I will travel to the south, and then journey home. With your permission, of course?'

Jungir's face darkened, but his expression remained friendly. 'It would not be advisable, ambassador. The lands of the Steppes are-. . perilous for outsiders. Many tribes continue to harass. . foreigners.'

'I understand, sire. Even within the Middle Kingdom there are bandits and rogues who disobey the Emperor's will. But I am sure my soldiers will be a match for them. And I much appreciate your concern over the safety of a humble ambassador.'

Jungir gave a tight smile and stepped back to the dais. 'Quarters will be allocated to you, ambassador, and my chamberlain will furnish you with the guides and supplies you will need for your journey. And now I have matters of state to occupy me.'

Chien bowed — but not low. He straightened. 'I cannot thank you sufficiently, sire, for the time you have allowed me.' He backed seven paces, instead of ten, and turned.

As the great doors swung shut Jungir turned to a broad-shouldered warrior at his side. 'You will guide them south for a week. Then there will be an attack on them. No one survives. You understand, Kubai?'

'I do, sire.'

'And see that they do not move around in the palace. I want no one to mention the yellow-faced bitch.'

'As you wish, Lord Khan.'

The chamberlain led Chien through the maze of tunnels to three large, square adjoining rooms. Windows in the west walls looked out over an exquisitely ugly garden of shrubs. In the first room was a bed, four chairs, a table and three lanterns. The second contained only a narrow bed and a single lantern, while the third boasted a metal bath, three barrels of water and several thin towels.

'It is almost too luxurious,' said Chien, without a hint of mockery. The chamberlain gave a thin-lipped smile and left. Chien turned to his manservant, Oshi, a wiry ex-slave who had served Chien's family for forty years. 'Find the spy-holes,' ordered Chien, using an obscure Kiatze dialect. Oshi bowed and moved around the room for several minutes.

'There are none, lord,' said Oshi finally.

'Is there no end to their insults?' snapped Chien. 'Do they feel I am not important enough to spy on?'

'They are savages, lord.'

'Go and find where they have put Sukai and the others. Send Sukai to me.'

'At once, lord. Or should I prepare your bath first?'

'I will bathe tomorrow. I would not put it past these Nadir to have urinated in the water-barrels.' Oshi chuckled and left the room. Chien pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dusted one of the chairs. A dark shape scuttled across the room behind him and Chien swivelled, his hand snapping a small throwing-knife from his sleeve. The blade flashed across the room and the black rat died instantly, almost cut in half.

Minutes later, as Chien stood at the window staring down at the grey-green shrubs in what passed for a royal garden, there came a discreet tap at the door.

'Enter!' he commanded.

Sukai marched into the room and bowed as low as his lacquered leather breastplate would allow. The officer carried his iron helm against his chest. He was neither tall nor especially formidable in appearance, yet his skill with the long, curved chantanai blade was known throughout the Middle Kingdom. He had served Chien for eleven years — and not once in that time had Chien seen him without his hair combed, oiled and lacquered. Now it was hanging lank about his shoulders.

'Why do you come here looking like the basest peasant?' asked Chien, still using the Kiatze dialect.

'A thousand apologies, noble lord,' Sukai replied. 'I was preparing for my bath — I did not think you would wish to wait for me to dress properly.'

'You are correct in that, Sukai. But it was improper to prepare to bathe without first ascertaining whether I had need of you. However, in a city of barbarians it is difficult to retain hold of civilised behaviour. Have you checked your room?'

'I have, lord. There are no passageways hidden, and no secret hearing tubes.'

'Disgraceful!'

'They are an insulting people.'

Oshi entered silently, bowed twice — then saw the dead rat. He retrieved Chien's knife and removed the corpse by the tail. 'It has fleas,' he said, holding the body at arm's length.

'Throw it from the window,' ordered Chien. 'If we leave it here, we will probably find it served to us for supper.' Oshi hurled the rat to the gardens below and wandered off to the back room to clean the knife, while Chien turned back to the warrior. 'Tomorrow we will be leaving for the south.'

'Yes, lord.'

Chien hesitated and closed his eyes. His concentration hardened and he felt the floating presence of a spirit within the room. He smiled. So, he thought, they are not quite such savages. His fingers flickered against his belt; Sukai read the message, and smoothly moved from Kiatze to Nadir.

'Will the Lord Khan be supplying us with guides, sir?'

'But of course. He is a noble king, of a noble line. But I do not think we should all presume upon his hospitality. You will arrange for a guard of twenty men to take the women and all manservants bar Oshi back to Kiatze. I will send a message to the Divine Emperor, telling him of the success of our mission and the kind words of Jungir Khan. The journey south would be too hard on my girls.'

'Yes, lord.'

'We will take only one wagon — with gifts for the Queen. All my goods will go back to Kiatze.'

'With the exception of your tent, my lord?'

'No, that also. I will take my paints and brushes, that is all. There may be some interesting flowers along the way.' His ringers appeared to brush a speck of dust from his sleeve.

Sukai bowed. 'I have noticed many red blooms, sir.'

'You will see many more."

Sukai's face hardened. 'May I be permitted to write to my family, lord?'

'Of course. Now leave me. I will see you at dawn.'

As the officer departed Oshi returned to the room with Chien's freshly cleaned knife in his hands. Chien returned the blade to the oiled sheath in his sleeve.

Oshi moved the cleaned chair to the window and Chien sat, seemingly lost in thought. He focused his mind on the intrusive spirit in the room and saw a thin, wrinkled old man with pale eyes and a weasel face. He was floating just below the high ceiling. Chien sat silently until the watcher's presence faded.

'Oshi!'

'Yes, lord?'

'Go to the kitchens and find some bread. They will have no fish, but choose me some dried meat that is not full of corruption.'

'At once!'

Chien folded his arms and thought of Mai-syn. To her this place must have seemed worse than squalid. He concentrated on the beauty of her face, trying to communicate with her spirit. But there was only a cosmic silence. Perhaps she is too far from here, he thought. Perhaps not, the darker side of his nature told him.

The chamberlain knocked at the door and told Chien that the Lord Jungir Khan had arranged a feast in his honour. It would be this evening at moonrise. It would be acceptable if the Lord Ambassador wished to bring the Chief of his Guards. Chien bowed and accepted.

What new humiliation will the savages plan for tonight, he wondered?

The great hall was packed with warriors, seated around a score of bench tables pushed together to make an enormous open square. Jungir Khan — in tight-fitting tunic of black leather embroidered with gold thread — sat at the southern end of the hall, the throne dais behind him. Chien was seated at his right hand and to his right sat Sukai, ill at ease and eating little. To Jungir's left was a wizened man whom the Khan introduced as Shotza, the court shaman. Chien inclined his head to the man. 'We have heard much of the skills of the Nadir shamen,' he said.

'As we have of the court magicians of the Kiatze,' responded Shotza. 'Is it true they make tiny golden machines that fly in the air, imitating birds?'

'The Divine King has three,' answered Chien-tsu.

Shotza nodded, but seemed unconvinced.

The feast involved eating an extraordinary amount of meats which, back in Kiatze, would have been refused by the court dogs. In the main, it was high beyond the point of rotting. To offset this, the guests covered the food with spices. Chien ate sparingly and drank less. The liquor being consumed by the Nadir was distilled, he was told, from rancid goats' milk. 'How clever,' he remarked. How apt, he thought.

Between the interminable courses there were performances by jugglers or acrobats. They were not especially skilled, though Chien applauded politely.

'We have heard much,' said Jungir Khan suddenly, 'of the martial skills of the Kiatze. Would your officer honour us with an exhibition?'

'Of what kind?' enquired Chien.

'Swordsmanship.'

'With respect, Lord Khan, that is not possible. The soul of a warrior partly resides in his blade. It is not to be drawn unless to take blood — and that, I fear, would not represent an exhibition of skills.'

'Then let him fight to the death,' said the Khan.

'I am afraid I do not understand you, sire. Is this a jest of some kind?'

'I never jest about war, ambassador. I merely ask that your man shows me the skills of the Kiatze. I would take it badly were you to refuse me.'

'I hope, my Lord Khan, that you will not interpret my words as a refusal. I merely ask you to reconsider. Is it not bad fortune for there to be a death at a feast?'

'That depends on who dies,' answered the Khan coldly.

'Very well, sire,' said Chien, turning to Sukai. 'The Khan wishes to see the battle skills of a Kiatze officer. Oblige him.'

'As you order,' answered Sukai. He rose and vaulted the table. He was not a tall man, nor did he have great width of shoulder. His face was broad and flat, his eyes dark; he was clean-shaven, but for a thin moustache which drooped to his chin. He drew his long curved double-handed sword and waited; his fingers brushed his chest. Chien read the signalled question and found it difficult to keep the pride from his eyes. 'Do you require me to die?' Sukai had asked. Chien lifted his hand to touch his carefully lacquered hair. Sukai understood — and bowed.

Jungir Khan pointed to a warrior at the far end of the hall. 'Show our guest how a Nadir fights,' he called, and the man leapt into the square.

'Excuse me, sire,' said Chien, his face expressionless.

'What is it?'

'It seems hardly fair to have only one man face Sukai. He will be mortally offended.'

The Khan's face darkened and he held up one hand. Silence fell. 'Our guest, the ambassador for the land of Kiatze, has said that one Nadir warrior is no match for his champion.' An angry murmur began. Again the Khan's hand cut the air and silence followed the move. 'Can this be true?'

'No!' came a roar from the feasters.

'But he also says that his champion will be insulted if he faces only one opponent. Should we insult so fine-looking a warrior?' There was no response and the Nadir waited for the lead from their Khan. 'No, we cannot insult our guests. Therefore you, Ulai, and you, Yet-zan, will join your comrade.' The two Nadir warriors clambered into the square. 'Let the battle commence,' Jungir ordered.

The Nadir warriors spread out in a circle around the still, motionless figure of Sukai, his great sword resting lightly on his shoulder. Suddenly the first Nadir ran forward, the others following. Sukai spun on his heel, his sword slicing out and down to cleave through the collarbone and chest of the first attacker. He swivelled and blocked a thrust, cut the head from the sword wielder, dropped to one knee and rammed his blade through the belly of the third man.

Sukai returned the great sword to its scabbard on his back, and waited with hands on hips. At his feet lay three corpses, their blood staining the mosaic floor.

'He is a fine warrior,' said Jungir Khan, his voice cutting the silence.

'Not especially, my lord,' replied Chien, masking his delight. 'I thought the last thrust sloppily executed. A fourth man might well have killed him at that moment.'

Jungir Khan said nothing but waved his hand. Servants moved into the square and the tables were pulled back to allow the bodies to be dragged from the hall. Sawdust was spread on the blood. The feast continued for another hour, but Jungir did not speak again to the ambassador from the land of Kiatze.

Towards midnight the feasters began to drift away. Chien stood and bowed to Jungir. 'With your leave, my lord?'

The Khan nodded. 'Good fortune follow you on your journey,' he said.

'I am sure that if you will it, then it will be so,' answered Chien. 'My thanks to you for the feast. May the Gods bring you all the blessings you deserve.'

With Sukai following, Chien-tsu marched from the hall.

Back in his rooms he turned to Sukai.

'I apologise,' he said, 'for the affront to your dignity. It was unseemly to have agreed to the Khan's request.'

Sukai bowed low, dipping his head three times. 'No apology is necessary, lord. I live to serve you.'

Chien entered his rooms to find that Oshi had stripped the Nadir linen from the bed and covered the mattress with sheets of fine silk and a coverlet filled with goose down. The servant himself was asleep at the foot of the bed.

Chien removed his clothes and carefully folded them, placing them on the chair by the window. Then he climbed into bed and lay back, wishing that he could enjoy a hot, scented bath.

Oshi rose from the foot of the bed. 'Is there anything you require, my lord?'

'Nothing, thank you.'

Oshi settled down on the floor once more, and Chien stared out of the window at the bright stars. In all probability Mai-syn was dead. He could sense no warmth from her spirit. No more would her laughter be heard under Heaven, no more would her sweet singing grace the night. But he could not be sure and therefore would have to begin, at least, his journey to the south. Yet if she was dead, then once away from the city Chien had no doubt the party would be attacked and slaughtered. Jungir Khan would have no wish for news of his daughter's death to reach the Emperor. No, Chien's murder would be put down to robbers or bandits, and thus the flow of costly presents would continue for at least one more year.

There had to be a way to thwart the Khan. Honour demanded it.

For several hours he lay awake. At last a smile touched his face.

And he slept.

Despite the closeness of the midwinter solstice the warmth of an early spring was in the air as the questors rode down the long hills into the valley of Kiall's settlement. The young man found his emotions torn as he gazed down on the wooden buildings and the new stockade. He was home — and yet he was not home. All his dreams of childhood were resting here, the ghosts of his youth still playing in the high woods. He knew every bend and turn of the trails, all the secret places, the fallen trees and the hidden caves. Yet the village was changed. The burned-out buildings were no longer in evidence, and twelve new houses stood on the outskirts. Tanai the baker had been killed in the raid, his house and bakery gutted. Now a new bakery stood on the site, and Kiall felt that someone had reached into his memories with a hot knife, cutting and hacking at images dear to him.

Chareos led the small group down into the settlement and on through the unfinished stockade wall to the main square. People stopped their work to watch the riders and a tall, fat man in a tunic of green wool — a wide leather belt straining to hold his bulging belly — marched out to stand before them with brawny arms folded across his chest.

'What do you want here?' he asked, his voice deep, his tone pompous.

Chareos stepped down from the saddle and approached him. 'We are looking for shelter for the night.'

'Well, there's no welcome here for strangers.'

Kiall could stand no more; he lifted his leg over the pommel of his saddle and jumped to the ground. Tm no stranger?' he stormed. 'But who, in Bar's name, are you? I don't know you.'

'Nor I you,' said the man. 'State your business — or suffer the consequences.'

'Consequences?' snorted Beltzer. 'What is he talking about?'

'He's talking about the bowmen hidden in the alleyways around us,' explained Finn.

'Oh,' said Beltzer.

Chareos glanced around and saw the archers. They seemed nervous and frightened, their fingers trembling on the drawn bowstrings. At any moment an accidental shot could turn the square into a battlefield, Chareos knew. 'We are not Nadren,' he said softly. 'I came here on the night of the raid and tried to aid the people. The young man here is Kiall, who is of this village.'

'Well, I don't know him and I don't believe I care to,' retorted the man sourly.

'My name is Chareos. It would at least be polite if you told me yours.'

'I don't need to be polite to the likes of you,' said the man. 'Be off with you!'

Chareos spread his hands and stepped closer. Suddenly he seized the man's tunic with his left hand, dragging him forward. His right hand flashed up holding his hunting-knife, the blade point resting against the man's throat.

'I have an abhorrence for bad manners,' he said quietly. 'Now order your men to lower their weapons, or I will cut your throat.'

The man swallowed hard, the action causing his flabby skin to press on the knife point. A thin trickle of blood traced a line to his tunic.

'Put. . put down your weapons,' the leader whispered.

'Louder, fool!' hissed Chareos and the man did as he was told.

Reluctantly the archers obeyed, but they crowded in to surround the group. Still holding on to the fat man, Chareos turned to the crowd. 'Where is Paccus the Seer?' he called. No one answered him.

Kiall stepped forward. 'Does no one remember me?' he asked. 'What about you, Ricka? Or you, Anas? It's me — Kiall.'

'Kiall?' said a tall, thin man with a pockmarked face. He moved closer to peer at the young warrior. 'It is you,' he said, surprised. 'But you look so different. Why have you come back?'

'To find Ravenna, of course.'

'Why?' asked Anas. 'She'll be some Nadir's wife by now — or worse.'

Kiall reddened. 'I will find her anyway. What is going on here? Who is this man? And where is Paccus?'

Anas shrugged. 'After the raid a lot of families chose to move north, to settle nearer Talgithir. New families moved in. He is Norral; he's a good man, and our leader. The stockade was his idea — as were the bows. We are going to defend ourselves in future, Kiall. The Nadren will not find us an easy target the next time they ride into Gothir lands.'

'What about Paccus?'

'He died three days ago.'

In the background, Chareos sheathed his knife and pushed Norral away from him. Beltzer and the others dismounted.

Kiall looked at the rest of the crowd. 'We are not raiders,' he said. 'I am of this village, and we will be leaving come morning to seek the women stolen in the raid. We will bring them back. These warriors with me may not be known to you by sight, but you do know of them. This one is Chareos the Blademaster, and this is Beltzer of the Axe. The man with the dark beard is the famed archer Finn, and beside him is his friend Maggrig. They are the heroes of Bel-azar, my friends. The other man is a mystic from the lands of die Tattooed People; he will follow the spirit trail that leads us to the saving of our people.'

Anas stared hard at Beltzer. 'He is the famous axeman?'

'Yes I am, goat brain!' thundered Beltzer, drawing his axe and holding the shining blade under Anas' chin. 'Perhaps you'd like to see more proof?'

'Not at all,' said Anas, stepping back.

Norral stepped alongside Chareos. 'A thousand apologies,' he whispered. 'I didn't know, of course. Please make my home your own. I would be honoured if you would spend the night at my house.'

Chareos nodded. 'That is kind,' he said at last, forcing a smile. 'I also must apologise. You were quite right to be concerned at the appearance of six armed men, and your precautions were commendable.'

Norral bowed.

The food he supplied them was excellent, cooked by his two plump comely daughters, Bea and Kara. But the evening was dominated by Norral, who told them the story of his largely uninteresting life in great detail, punctuating it with anecdotes concerning famous Gothir statesmen, poets or nobles. Each story had the same ending: how the famous complimented Norral on his sagacity, wit, far-sightedness and intelligence.

Beltzer was the first to grab a jug of wine and wander out into the cool night air. Maggrig and Finn soon followed. Unconcerned by the stream of sound from Norral, Okas curled up on the floor to sleep.

Chareos and Kiall sat with the fat farmer until after midnight, but when he showed no sign of fatigue Chareos yawned theatrically. 'I must thank you,' he said, 'for a most entertaining evening. But we will be leaving soon after dawn and, if you will excuse me, I will leave you in Kiall's company. He is younger than the rest of us, and I am sure will learn much from you.'

Rigid with boredom, Kiall contained his anger and settled himself for more of Norral's history. But with the last of the heroes of Bel-azar gone, Norral had no wish to converse with a former villager. He excused himself and took to his bed.

Kiall stood and walked out into the night. Only Beltzer remained awake and Kiall sat down beside him.

'Did the old windbag run out of stories?' the giant asked.

'No. He ran out of listeners.'

'By the Gods, he doesn't need a stockade; he could just visit a Nadren village for an evening. The raiders would avoid this place like a plague pit.'

Kiall said nothing, but sat with his chin resting on his hands staring at the homes around him. Golden light showed in thin beams from the closed shutters of the windows.

'What ails you, boy?' asked Beltzer, draining the last of his wine.

'It is all changed,' replied Kiall. 'It's not my home any more.'

'Everything changes,' said Beltzer, 'except the mountains and the sky.'

'But it was only a few months ago. Now. . it's as if Ravenna never existed.'

'They can't afford to stay in mourning, Kiall. Look around you. This is a working village; there are crops to be planted, cultivated, harvested; animals to be fed, watered, cared for. Ravenna was last year's crop. Gods, man, we're all of us last year's crop.'

'It shouldn't be that way,' argued Kiall.

'Wrong, boy. It is the only way it can be.' He picked up the empty jug and passed it to Kiall. 'What do you see?'

'What is there to see? You finished it all.'

'Exactly. The wine was good, but now it isn't here any more. Worse, I'll piss it against a tree tomorrow — then no one could tell if it was wine or water.'

'We're not talking about wine — we're talking about people. About Ravenna.'

There's no difference. They mourned. . now they're living again.'

Soon after dawn Okas vanished into the hills to seek the spirit trails. Kiall wandered in search of Ravenna's sister and found her at the house of Jar el. She smiled and invited him inside where Jarel was sitting by the window, staring out over the mountains. Karyn poured Kiall a goblet of watered wine.

'It is good to see you again,' she said, smiling. She looked so like Ravenna that his heart lurched — the same wide eyes, the same dark hair gleaming as if oiled.

'And you,' he replied. 'How are you faring?'

'I'm going to have Jarel's child in the autumn,' she told him.

'I congratulate you both,' he said.

Jarel swung from the window. He was a strongly built young man with black, tightly curled hair and deep-set blue eyes.

'Why must you pursue this business?' he asked. 'Why chase after the dead?'

'Because she is not dead,' answered Kiall.

'As good as,' snapped Jarel. 'She is tainted. . finished among civilised people.'

'Not for me.'

'Always the dreamer. She used to talk of you, Kiall; she used to laugh at you for your silly ideas. Well, don't bring her back here, she won't be welcome.'

Kiall put the goblet down on the table-top and rose, his hands shaking. 'I will say this once to you, Jarel. When I bring her back, if there is one evil word from you I will kill you.'

'You?' snorted Jarel. 'Dream on, Kiall.'

Kiall walked forward to where Jarel stood with hands on hips, grinning. He was a head taller than Kiall and far the heavier. Kiall's fist slammed into the bigger man's face, rocking him back on his heels. Blood spurted from his smashed lips and his jaw dropped, then anger blazed in his eyes and he sprang forward — only to jerk to a stop as he saw the long hunting-knife in Kiall's hand. Fear touched him then.

Kiall saw it and smiled. 'Remember my warning, Jarel. Remember it well.'

Til remember,' said the farmer, 'but you remember this: no one here wants the women back. So what will you do? Build a new place for them? Two of the men whose wives were taken have remarried. Twenty other families have gone, and no one knows where. What do the captives have to come back to? No one cares any more.'

'I care,' said Kiall. 'I care very much.' He turned to Karyn. 'Thank you for your hospitality.' She said nothing as he sheathed his knife and walked out into the sunlight.