Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows

Chapter Nine

Waylander kept moving until he was out of sight of the Rajnee then sat down on a velvet-covered bench seat in the corridor. His relief at the survival of Matze Chai was overwhelming, and he could feel his hands trembling. Leaning back against the wall, he took several deep, calming breaths. The death of Mendyr Syn and Omri saddened him greatly, but he had known them for only a short while. Matze Chai had been part of his life for three decades, a solid anchor he could always rely upon. He had not, however, realized until this day how much he cared for the old man.

But with the relief came a deeper anger, a cold and terrible resentment against the arrogant cruelty of men who were willing to visit such terror on innocent victims. Ultimately, he knew, wars were never about simple issues like right and wrong. They were launched by men who lusted after power. They did not care about the victims like Omri or Mendyr Syn. They lived for fame, and all the empty, fruitless joys it brought. One man like Omri was worth ten thousand of such killers, he thought.

Having recovered his composure Waylander moved on at a lope, scaling the stairs of the North Tower two at a time. He slowed when he reached the first level. Shelves had been torn from the walls, and manuscripts, scrolls and leatherbound volumes were scattered across the floor. Kneeling, he touched his hand to the carpet. It was wet and cold. To the left were two eight-foot stains upon the floor. Dark blood was spattered around them. Ustarte's followers, it seemed, had fought well.

Treading carefully through the debris he reached the second stairwell and climbed once more. As he turned a corner he saw the body of a huge, golden wolf, its belly ripped open, its golden eyes glazing. The body twitched as he approached and it tried to raise its head. Then it slumped down and died.

Climbing past the dead beast he came across two more bodies, those of the acolytes who had followed Ustarte. Waylander struggled to remember their names. Prial was one. He was lying upon his back, his chest open, ribs splayed. The other lay close by. Huge talon marks were on his back, and the lower part of his spine was jutting from his body.

Waylander stepped over them. The door to Ustarte's apartments had been torn from its hinges. He moved into the doorway and scanned the room. Furniture had been hurled against the walls, the ornate carpet was ripped in places, and there was blood upon the floor and walls. There was no sign of Ustarte. Waylander moved to the window. Upon the sill was a bloody smear. Leaning out, he looked down. Two floors below was a balcony. A patch of blood showed on the balustrade.

Retracing his steps he returned to the stairs. The body of the golden wolf had vanished. In its place lay the third of Ustarte's acolytes.

Waylander walked to the front of the palace, where Emrin was anxiously waiting.

'The palace is clear,' said Waylander. Tell the servants they can return to their rooms.'

'Yes, sir. Quite a few have left your service. They have gone to Carlis. Even those who remain are frightened.'

'I don't blame them. Send some men to fetch the bodies from the Long Kitchens and the North Tower library. And set the servants tasks to take their minds from their fear. Tell them all there will be an extra month's salary to compensate for the terror they have endured.'

'Yes, sir. They will be most grateful. Did you find the priestess?'

'She and her people are dead.' Waylander looked into the young man's eyes. 'With Omri gone I need someone to manage the household. That role is yours for now. Your salary is doubled.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'No need to thank me. It is an arduous duty and you will earn your pay. Have the wagons left?'

'Yes, sir. I also sent riders to the hospital in Carlis, where Mendyr Syn's two assistants are working. They should be here soon to help with the wounded.'

Waylander moved across to where Yu Yu Liang was sitting with his back to a tree. Keeva was beside him, her arm still around the shoulders of the blond page. The boy looked up at Waylander and gave a nervous smile.

'Were you very frightened?' Waylander asked the boy.

'Yes, sir. Is my uncle safe?'

'He was when last I saw him.' He turned his attention to Yu Yu. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Like I want to be ditch-digger again,' said Yu Yu. 'Like I could throw this puking sword in sea and go home.'

'You can do that,' said Waylander. 'You are a free man.'

'Later,' said Yu Yu, 'but first we have to find Men of Clay.'

Many of the servants were reluctant to return to the palace, but as the boldest of them moved through the doors most of the others followed. Another fifteen joined the thirty who had already quit the Grey Man's service and journeyed to Carlis.

Waylander walked out through the banquet hall and found Kysumu sitting cross-legged on the terrace stones. The Rajnee's arms were extended outwards, his head bowed. Waylander moved silently past him, leaving the warrior to his meditation.

The sun was high now in a clear blue sky, shining down upon the myriad colours of the flowers in the terraced gardens. The scent of roses filled the air. It made the events of the night seem like a dream. Waylander strolled down to his apartments. The door was open, and there was a crimson smear upon the frame.

Inside the priestess Ustarte lay naked in one corner. Blood from a number of wounds to her flanks, arms and legs was seeping through her striped fur. Waylander knelt beside her. She was unconscious. Stretching her out on her back he examined the wounds. They were deep. Waylander drew the blue crystal from his pocket, slowly moving it over the tears in her flesh. He could see no sign of the flesh-eating maggots. Finding his medicine bag he took from it a curved needle and began to stitch the largest of the jagged rips in her side. Her golden eyes opened and locked to his gaze. Then they closed once more. Way-lander continued his work. Her fur was not soft, like that of a cat. It was wiry and thick, the muscles beneath supple and immensely strong. Indeed she was far stronger than the slim form suggested. There was further evidence of this when he tried to lift her, to carry her to his bed. She weighed at least as much as two tall men. Unable to move her, Waylander fetched a pillow and some blankets and laid them on a chair close by. Then, using old cloths, he mopped up the blood around her. Wiping his hands clean, he lifted her head and slipped the pillow under it. Then he covered her with the blankets.

Having done all he could, Waylander left the building, pulled shut the door and walked to the waterfall. Stripping off his clothes he stood beneath the cold water.

Refreshed, he returned to his rooms. He found a fresh shirt and leggings, dressed and returned to the priestess. Her breathing was shallow, her face ashen. Her eyes opened and she tried to speak, the effort causing her to wince. 'Don't talk,' he said softly. 'Rest now. I will fetch you some water.' He filled a goblet, raised her head and held it to her lips. She drank a little then sank back. 'Sleep,' he said. 'Nothing will harm you.' He was aware even as he said it that he could, in truth, make no such guarantees, but the words were out before he could stop them.

He walked to the door and sat down on the step. The fishermen were out in the bay, the white sails of their boats bright in the sunlight. Waylander leaned back against the door frame.

Eldicar Manushan had been torn apart battling the demons in the ruins. He could not, surely, at the same time, have summoned more monsters to attack the palace. Waylander considered the attack. There had been three targets, Mendyr Syn, Yu Yu Liang and Ustarte. Since Yu Yu and the Rajnee sword had been in the hospital building, the death of the surgeon may have been merely a tragic coincidence. Anger flickered in his weary frame. Life was full of such meaningless tragedies.

His first wife Tanya and his three children had died because a group of raiders had decided to head south-east rather than south-west. Coincidentally he had chosen that day to hunt venison, rather than stay and rebuild the south pasture fence. 'You have no time for self-pity,' he said, aloud, pushing the awful scenes from his mind.

He truly did not care whether Kydor stood or fell. War was a grisly fact of life, and one that he was powerless to alter. But the enemy had brought death to his house, and that he did care about. Demons had been unleashed within the palace. Omri had been a gentle, kind man. Talons had torn his chest open. Mendyr Syn had devoted his life to the care of others. His last moments had been to witness his patients ripped apart.

Until now this had not been Waylander's war.

Now it was.

Leaning his head back against the door frame he closed his eyes. Sunlight was warm upon his face. A soft breeze whispered against his skin. He was almost asleep when he heard soft footfalls on the steps. His dark eyes flicked open and he drew a diamond-shaped knife from its sheath.

Keeva appeared, carrying a tray of food. Waylander pushed himself to his feet, and stood blocking the doorway. 'Emrin asked me to bring you some breakfast,' she said.

'Was it you who hurled the carving knife at the beast?' he asked.

'Yes. How did you know?'

'I saw it upon the floor. Where did you aim for?'

'The eye.'

'Did you hit it?'

'Yes. It went in to the hilt.'

'Excellent.' He looked at her closely. 'I want you to do something for me,' he said.

'Of course.'

'I want it done quietly. No one must know. No one at all.'

'You can trust me, Grey Man. I owe you my life.'

'Go to the North Tower and the rooms of the priestess Ustarte. Let no one see you. Gather some of her clothes and gloves. Do not forget the gloves. Put them in a sack and bring them here.'

'She is still alive?'

Waylander stepped back into the apartments, beckoning her to follow him. Keeva paused in the doorway and gazed down on the sleeping priestess. One arm was outside the blankets. Keeva moved closer and stared down at the exposed, fur-covered limb and the sharp claws extending from the short, stubby fingers. She recoiled instantly. 'Sweet Heaven! What is she?'

'Someone who has been badly wounded,' he said softly. 'No one must know she has survived the attack. You understand?'

'Is she a demon?'

'I do not know what she is, Keeva, but I believe there is no evil in her. Will you trust me on this?'

'I trust you, Grey Man. Will she live?'

'I have no way of knowing. The wounds are deep, and there may be internal bleeding. But I will do what I can.'

Ustarte opened her eyes. Her vision swam, then focused on the rough wrought ceiling above her. Her mouth was dry, and she became aware of pain. It grew from a dull, throbbing ache to needles of fire in her side and back. She groaned.

Instantly a figure appeared above her. Lifting her head he held a goblet of water to her lips. She drank sparingly at first, allowing the cool liquid to ease its way down her parched throat. The swirling began in her belly and she quelled it. Must not Change now, she thought, an edge of panic seeping into her mind. Looking up into the Grey Man's face she read his thoughts instinctively. He was concerned for her. 'I will live,' she whispered. 'If I do not . . . become the beast.' She caught an image in his mind of a golden wolf, dying on the stairs of the library. Sorrow flowed over her and tears welled in her eyes. 'They died for me,' she whispered.

'Aye, they did,' he said. The tears flowed on to her cheeks and she began sobbing. She felt his hands upon her shoulders. 'Be calm, Ustarte! You will tear the stitches. There will be time for grief later.'

'They trusted me,' she said. 'I betrayed them.'

'You betrayed no one. You did not summon the demons.'

'I could have opened a portal and taken them to safety.'

'Now you are making me angry,' he said, but the hand stroking her head was still gentle. 'There is no one living who would not change some aspect of the past if they could, to avoid a hurt or a tragedy. We make mistakes. It is just the grim game of life. Your people followed you because they loved and believed in you. You were seeking to prevent a great evil. Yes, they died to protect you. And they did it willingly. It is for you to make that sacrifice worthwhile by surviving, as they wanted you to survive. You hear me?'

'I hear you, Grey Man. But we have lost. The gateway will open, and the evil of Kuan-Hador will return.'

'Maybe so – maybe not. We still live. I have had many enemies, Ustarte, powerful enemies. Some commanded nations, others armies, others demons. They are all dead and I still live. And while I live I will not accept defeat.'

Closing her eyes, she tried to flow with the pain. Ustarte felt the blanket being lifted from her. The Grey Man was studying her wounds. 'They are healing well,' he said.

'Why will this Change be dangerous for you?'

'I become larger. The stitches will tear open. If this begins to happen you must. . . kill me. I will no longer be Ustarte. And what I become will . . . slaughter you in its agony. You understand?'

'Yes. Rest now.'

For a human it would have been sound advice, but Ustarte knew that if she did not stay conscious the swirling would begin again and she would metamorphose. She lay very still. Her thoughts began to drift. Several times she almost lost the focus. She saw again the breeding pens, felt again the terrible fear she had known. The crippled girl, dragged from her home and brought underground to the ceaseless horror of the pens. Sharp knives cutting into her flesh, noxious liquids being forced down her throat. Each time she vomited more of the fluid was poured into her mouth. Spells were cast, sharper than knives, hotter than fire, colder than ice.

Then the awful day when her frail body was merged with the beast. Its terror and rage swamped her, as its molecules flowed within her human frame. The pain was indescribable, every muscle swelling and cramping. The child was swept away in a sea of blackness. But she had clung on to her individuality, despite the roaring of the beast in her mind. Sensing her presence, the beast had calmed.

Strange dreams followed. She felt herself running on all fours, her great limbs powering her across the plain at terrible speed. Then the leap to the back of the deer, her fangs closing on its neck, dragging it down, warm blood filling her mouth. She almost lost herself in the blood-memory – but she clutched the tiny spark that was Ustarte.

She remembered the day she became aware of voices. 'This new Kraloth does not conform, Lord. It sleeps twenty hours, and when awake seems confused. We have noted tremors in the muscles of its hind legs, and occasional spasms.'

'Kill it,' came a second voice, harsh and cold.

'Aye, Lord.'

The thought of dying flooded Ustarte with a burst of energy, and her spirit flowed up from the dark recesses of the bestial body. She felt again the pull of the flesh, the power of the muscles in her four limbs. Her eyes opened. She reared up, trying to speak. A low, guttural growl rippled from her throat. Her paws struck at the iron bars of the cage. A man in a green tunic pushed a long stick through the bars. Something sharp and bright upon the end of it stabbed into her flesh. Fire flowed into her flanks.

Instinctively she knew it was poison. How she dealt with it remained a mystery to her to this day. She could only assume that the merging had created in her an unforeseen talent, enhancing her lymphatic pathways in such a way that she could draw the poison into her system, breaking it down into component parts and subtly changing it.

She had dropped to her haunches, waiting silently until the poison was dispersed harmlessly. Now she became aware of the thoughts of the three men in the room. One was waiting to go home to his family. Another was thinking of a missed meal. The third was considering murder.

Even as she linked to the thought she felt the man close his mind to her. A golden spell lanced through the bars, flowing over her body with whips of fire. She writhed under this new pain.

So desperate was she to escape it that she fled deep within the bestial body, allowing the beast control. It raged around the cage, slashing its great paws at the bars, bending them. Still the pain increased. Ustarte tried to flee again, surging up through the body, as if trying to claw her way free of the tortured flesh.

And in that moment she found the key that would save her life.

The beast withdrew. The spirit of Ustarte swelled. The body fell to the floor of the cage, writhing and Changing.

When she awoke she was resting in a bed. Her body was no longer quite that of the beast, but neither was it human. Her shoulders and torso were covered in thick, striped fur, her fingers were tipped with retractable talons. 'You are a mystery to me, child,' said a voice. Turning her head, she saw the third man sitting beside the bed. He was wonderfully handsome, his hair golden, his eyes a summer blue. The eyes of a kindly uncle, she thought. Yet there was no kindness in him. 'But we will learn to solve it.'

Two days later she had been taken to a stockaded palace-prison high in the mountains. Here there were other mutations, man-beasts and were-creatures, the subjects of failed experiments. There was a serpent with the face of a child. It was kept in a domed cage of thin wire mesh, and fed on live rats. The creature did not speak, but at night it would make music, high and keening. The sound would tear at Ustarte's soul every night for the five years she was imprisoned in that, awful place.

Unspeakable acts were committed against her body, and she in turn was trained to kill and feed. For two years she refused to kill a human. For two years Deresh Karany, the golden-haired sorcerer, subjected her to dreadful pain. Ultimately the torture broke her resistance, and she learnt to obey. Her first kill had been a young woman, her next a powerful man with only one arm. After that she learnt not to remember the faces and forms of her victims. Time and again Deresh Karany would force her to Change, and once in the bestial form she would be directed against some hapless human. Her long fangs and terrible talons would rip into the frail flesh, tearing off limbs, lapping up blood and crunching brittle bones.

She was a good Kraloth, obedient and trustworthy. Not once – in either of her forms – did she turn on her jailers. Not even a growl. Her obedience was instantaneous. And day by day they grew more complacent about her. They thought they had her beaten. She could read it in their thoughts. Never, since that first day back in the city, had she let them know of her other powers. She was careful not to betray her talent. Ustarte knew that Deresh Karany sensed them. Once he had walked towards her with a dagger in his hand. His thoughts were clear. I am going to ram this blade into your throat.

'Good morning, my lord,' she said.

'Good morning, Ustarte.' He sat beside her. 'I am very pleased with you.'

I am going to kill you!

'Thank you, my lord. What do you require of me?'

He had smiled and sheathed the dagger. 'The creatures in this place are unique; twin forming is so rare. How does it feel when you shift from one form to the other?'

'It is painful, Lord.'

'Which form gives you the most pleasure?'

'Neither gives me pleasure, Lord. In this, my near-human form, I derive some satisfaction from study, from the beauty of the sky. In Kraloth guise I glory in power and strength and the taste of flesh.'

'Yes,' he said, nodding, 'the beast has no perception of abstracts. How then do you control it?'

'I cannot fully control it, Lord. It is wild and savage. It obeys me because it knows I can deny it existence, but it constantly seeks ways to overcome me.'

'The spirit of the tiger remains alive?'

'I believe so.'

'Interesting.' He fell silent and seemed lost in thought. Then he met her gaze. 'Back in the city I sensed you reaching out and touching my mind. You recall this?'

She had waited for this moment, and knew it would be dangerous to offer a complete lie. 'Yes, Lord. It was most mysterious. It was like flowing up from a deep sleep. Suddenly I heard distant voices, though I knew they were not real sounds.'

'And this has not happened since?'

'No, Lord.'

'Let me know if it does.'

'I will, Lord.'

'You are doing well, Ustarte. We are all proud of you.'

'Thank you, Lord. That is most pleasing to me.'

One day, as she strolled in semi-human form, she saw that the small postern gate was unlocked. She stood in the doorway gazing out upon the mountain path leading to the forest. Reaching out with her mind, she sensed the watchers close by, reading their thoughts. The door had been left open for her. Concentrating, she pushed her talent further. Five more guards were hidden behind the rocks some fifty paces from the postern gate. They were armed with spears and two held a strong net.

Ustarte turned away and walked back to the main exercise area.

As the months passed they trusted her more and more. She was used to assist in the training of others like herself. Prial was brought to the prison in chains. He was in his wolf form then, snapping and biting at the guards. Ustarte reached out with her talent, feeling his rage and terror. 'Be calm,' she whispered into his mind. 'Be patient, for our time is coming.'

Waylander sat with the sleeping priestess for a while. Her breathing was even, but the gleam of perspiration on her face showed that her temperature was rising. Moving to the kitchen he filled a bowl with cool water and returned to her side. Taking a cloth he placed it in the water, squeezed out the excess liquid and laid it on her brow. She stirred and the golden eyes opened. 'Feels good,' she whispered. Gently he dabbed the cloth to her cheeks. She slept again.

Waylander rose from the floor and stretched. Then he stood very still and listened. Walking swiftly to the window he drew the shutters closed, then stepped out through the door and into the sunshine, pulling closed the door behind him.

Eldicar Manushan and the page, Beric, were crossing the terrace garden and walking along the path to his apartments. The magicker was wearing a pale blue tunic shirt of glimmering silk. His legs were bare, and he wore no boots or shoes. His page was clad only in a loincloth, and he was carrying towels across his shoulder.

'Good day to you, Dakeyras,' said the magicker, with a broad smile.

'And to you. Where are you heading?'

'To the beach. Beric has become fond of it.'

The blond page looked up at his uncle and grinned. 'The water is very cold,' he said.

'You have taken a wrong turn,' said Waylander. 'Go back to the tall yellow rose and turn right. The steps there will take you to the sea.'

Eldicar Manushan glanced at the rough-cut walls of Waylander's apartments. 'I understand you live here,' he said. 'You are a most curious man. You build a palace of great style and beauty and yet live in little more than a cave on a cliff wall. Why is that?'

'I sometimes ask myself the same question,' said Waylander.

'Can we go to the sea now, Uncle?' put in the boy. 'It is getting very hot.'

'You go down, Beric. I will join you presently.'

'Don't be long,' said the child, running back down the path.

'The young have such energy,' observed Eldicar Manushan, moving into the shade of a flowering tree and seating himself on a rock.

'And innocence,' added Waylander.

'Yes. It is always a cause of sadness when it passes. I did not take a wrong turn, Dakeyras. I wanted to speak with you.'

'I am here. Speak.'

'I am sorry for the death of your people. It was not my doing.'

'Just an unfortunate coincidence,' said Waylander.

Eldicar sighed. 'I will not lie to you. My people have formed an alliance with . . . another powerful group. Such is the way of war. What I am saying is that I did not bring the beasts to your palace.'

'What is it you seek here?' asked Waylander. 'This is not rich land.'

'Perhaps not. But it is ours. It was once ruled by my people. We were temporarily defeated by force of arms. We retreated. Now we are coming back. There is nothing overtly evil in this. It is just human. We want what is ours by right, and are willing to fight for it. The question for you is, is this your fight? You are not a native of Kydor. You have a fine palace, servants and the freedom only riches can supply. That will not change. You are a strong and deadly man, but whether for us or against us you can make no discernible difference to the outcome.'

'Then why concern yourself with my friendship?'

'Partly because I like you,' the magicker smiled, 'and partly because you killed the Bezha. Not many men could have done that. Our cause is not unjust, Dakeyras. This was our land, and it is the way of man to fight for what he believes is just. You agree?'

Waylander shrugged. 'It is said that this land was once below the sea. Does the sea own it? Men hold what they are strong enough to hold. If you can take this land, then take it. But I will think on what you have said.'

'Don't take too long,' advised Eldicar Manushan. He turned to follow his page to the beach, then swung back. 'Did you find the body of the priestess?'

'I found the body of a creature not human,' said Waylander.

Eldicar Manushan stood silently for a moment. 'She was a Joining. A failed experiment, full of bitterness and hatred. My own lord, Deresh Karany, invested much time and passion in her training. She betrayed him.'

'And he sent the demons?'

Eldicar spread his hands. 'I am only a servant. I do not know all my master's plans.' He strolled away.

Waylander sat for some time outside the apartments. He was a hunter, trained to follow his prey and kill it. This situation was far more subtle, and infinitely more dangerous.

Added to which there was another player in the game, who had not yet shown himself.

Who was Deresh Karany?

During the next three days life in the palace began to return to a semblance of normality. The servants were still nervous, and many purchased ward-charms from stallholders in Carlis, hanging them upon the doors of their rooms, or around their necks. The temple was filled daily with new converts, all anxious to be blessed by Chardyn and the three other priests.

Chardyn himself spent hours every day poring over scrolls and learning, as best he could, the ancient spells said to be useful against demonic possession and manifestation. He also removed an ornate box, hidden below the altar. From this he took two items: a golden ring with a carved carnelian stone at the centre, and a talismanic necklet, both said to have been blessed by the great Dardalion, first Abbot of the Thirty. 'You are a hypocrite,' he told himself, as he looped the necklet over his head.

In the palace hospital many of the wounded soldiers died in agony, despite the use of the crystal supplied to the two surgeons by Waylander. Neither of the men was as skilled as Mendyr Syn. But others survived. They were visited daily by the Duke, and offered encouragement. The crippled were assured they would receive good pensions and parcels of land back near the capital.

Little was seen of Waylander during this time, and all callers to the palace were greeted by Emrin, who informed them that the Gentleman was not in residence.

In the Winter Palace, on the far side of the bay, the Duke began preparations for the celebration feast. The lords of Kydor, Panagyn of House Rishell, Ruall of House Loras, and Shastar of House Bakard, all arrived in Carlis and were given sumptuous suites in three of the towers. Lord Aric, of House Kilraith, occupied the fourth tower. Invitations to the feast were sent to all the heads of the minor noble families, and a handful of wealthy merchants, including the Grey Man.

There was great excitement among the invited, for those who had already seen the wondrous talents of Eldicar Manushan had spread the word. And the magicker had promised a night to remember for all the guests.

A little to the west of the Grey Man's apartments was a sheltered ledge, hidden from the palace above by a jutting overhang. Here there were several bench seats, created from split logs, surrounding the sanded stump of a huge tree. The Grey Man was stretched out on one of the benches. To his right sat Ustarte the priestess, dressed now in a green robe of silk. Her face was still grey and her eyes reflected both weariness and pain. On the bench opposite sat Yu Yu Liang and Kysumu.

Yu Yu's shoulder was healing fast, but he found himself wishing he was back in his hospital bed. Ustarte had tried to question him about his experiences with the spirits of the original Riaj-nor. Yu Yu found it hard now to remember all that he had been told. Much of it was beyond him anyway, and he hadn't understood it even when it was being relayed to him by the spirit of Qin Chong. There was a feeling of tension in the air. The Grey Man was stretched out on his side, resting on one elbow, but his face was stern, his eyes locked to Yu Yu's face. It was most disconcerting. The priestess was disappointed, and only Kysumu seemed relaxed and at ease. Yu Yu guessed this was merely an outward show.

'I am sorry,' he said in Chiatze. 'I remember the tall man coming to me. I remember he called me pria-shath, which Kysumu said means Lantern Bearer. Then he took my hand and we flew. High through clouds and under stars. And all the time he was talking to me. I thought I was remembering it, but when I awoke it started slipping away. Sometimes things come back to me – like when I remembered about how the magic of the swords could be passed on. But most of it is gone.'

The Grey Man swung his legs to the ground and sat up. 'When I spoke to you in the grounds of the palace,' he said, 'you told me we had to find the Men of Clay. You remember?'

'Yes, the Men of Clay. I remember that.'

'Who are they?'

'They wait in the Dome. That's what he told me. They wait for the Lantern Bearer.'

'And where is the Dome?'

'I don't know. I can't think any more.' Yu Yu was feeling agitated now.

Kysumu laid a hand on his arm. 'Stay calm, Yu Yu. All will be well.'

'I don't see how,' muttered Yu Yu. 'I am an idiot.'

'You are the Chosen, the pria-shath. That is why you were drawn here,' said Kysumu. 'So sit calmly and let us continue to seek the truth. You agree?'

Yu Yu leant back and closed his eyes. 'Yes, I agree. But my mind is emptying. I can feel it all washing away.'

'It will come back. Qin Chong told you that you must find the Men of Clay, who live in a place called the Dome. He said these Men of Clay were waiting for the Lantern Bearer. Did you see the Men of Clay in your travels with Qin Chong?'

'Yes! Yes, I did. It was after a great battle. There were thousands of warriors – men like you, Kysumu, in robes, some of grey, some white and some crimson. They knelt and prayed on the battlefield and then they drew lots. Certain of the warriors then moved away from the others. They walked into the hills. Qin Chong was with them. He was with them and with me, if you take my meaning. And he said, "These are the Men of Clay."'

'This is good,' said Kysumu. 'What else did Qin Chong say to you?'

'He said I must find them. At the Dome. Then we floated again, over hills and valleys, and across a bay, and we sat in a little wood, and he told me of his life, and asked about mine. I told him I dug ditches and foundations, and he said that was an honourable occupation. Which, of course, it is, for without foundations you couldn't—'

'Yes, yes,' said Kysumu, allowing his irritation to show. 'But let us return to the Men of Clay. Did he mention them again?'

'No, I don't think so.'

The Grey Man leant forward. 'When they drew lots how many men moved away into the hills with Qin Chong?'

'Several hundred, I would think,' said Yu Yu.

'And the black man,' said Ustarte.

Yu Yu blinked in surprise and stared at the ailing priestess. 'Yes, how did you know? I had almost forgotten myself.'

'My wounds have sapped my powers – but not completely,' she said. 'Tell us of him.'

'He was a wizard, I think. His skin was very dark. He was tall and well built. He wore a blue robe, and carried a long white staff, curved at the top. At least I think he was a wizard. He was related to someone famous. Grandson, or great grandson. Something like that.'

'Emsharas,' put in Ustarte.

'That's it!' said Yu Yu. 'Grandson of Emsharas, who was also a wizard.'

'Far more than a wizard,' said Ustarte. 'He was a lord of demons. According to legend, he rebelled against his brother, Anharat, and aided the humans of Kuan-Hador in the first Demon War. Through his power the warriors of Kuan-Hador defeated the demons, casting them from this dimension. That was in the days when Kuan-Hador was a symbol of purity and courage. When Kuan-Hador fell into evil ways and a second war broke out, the few descendants of Emsharas took arms against the empire. There were many battles. Nothing is known of the fate of Emsharas's descendants.'

'We seem to be no closer to an answer,' said Kysumu.

'I think that we are,' observed the Grey Man. He turned to Yu Yu. 'The last battle you saw was at the city of Kuan-Hador?'

'Yes.'

'In which direction did the Men of Clay walk?'

'South . . . south-west, maybe. A southerly direction anyway.'

That area is mostly forest now,' said the Grey Man. 'It covers a vast area on the way to Qumtar. Do you remember any landmarks?'

Yu Yu shook his head. 'Just a lot of hills.'

'We must travel there,' said the Grey Man. To his right Ustarte gave a low moan. Her head sagged back against the headrest of the bench. The Grey Man moved swiftly to her side. 'Help me with her,' he told Kysumu. Together, and with great effort, they lifted the priestess, carrying her back to the apartments and laying her on the bed.

Her golden eyes opened. 'I… need a little. . . rest,' she whispered.

The men left her and returned to where Yu Yu waited. 'How is your wound?' the Grey Man asked him.

'Better.'

'Can you ride?'

'Of course. I am a great rider.'

'You and Kysumu should head back to the ruins, then strike out towards the south.'

'What are we looking for?' asked Yu Yu.

'Anything that looks familiar to you. The Men of Clay walked away from the battlefield. Did they walk far? More than a day, for example? Did they make camp?'

'No, I don't think so. I think the hills were close to the burning city.'

'Then you must find those hills. I will join you in a day or two.'

Kysumu stepped in close to the Grey Man. 'What if the demons come back? You will not have our swords to protect you.'

'One concern at a time, my friend,' said the Grey Man. 'Emrin will see that you have two good mounts and a week's supplies. Tell no one where you are heading.'

Lord Aric of House Kilraith stepped past the two guards at the door, and led Eldicar Manushan through to the rear apartments, where a third guard politely relieved Aric of his ruby-pommelled dagger. Lord Panagyn of House Rishell was lounging in an armchair, his booted feet resting on a glass table-top. A big, ugly man, with iron-grey hair and a large bulbous nose, his face was given a hint of glamour by the silver patch he wore over his left eye.

'Greetings, cousin,' said Aric amiably. 'I trust you are comfortable?'

'As comfortable as any man sitting in the fortress of his enemy.'

'Always so suspicious, cousin. You will not die here. Allow me to introduce my friend, Eldicar Manushan.'

The broad-shouldered magicker bowed. 'A pleasure, my lord.'

'So far the pleasure is all yours,' grunted Panagyn, swinging his legs from the table. 'If you are looking for an alliance with House Rishell, Aric, you can forget it. You were behind the treacherous turncoat Shastar. Had he not switched sides I would have killed Ruall, as I killed his brothers.'

'Indeed so,' said Aric. 'And you are quite right. I did convince Shastar to change sides.'

'You admit it, you dog!'

'Yes, I do.' Aric sat down opposite the astonished man. 'But all that is in the past. There are far greater prizes in our grasp now. We have battled one another to gain control of larger areas of Kydor. Larger areas of a tiny nation. But suppose for a moment we could conquer the lands of the Chiatze, and the Gothir. And beyond. Drenan, Vagria, Lentria. Suppose that we could be kings of great empires.'

Panagyn chuckled, the sound rich with mockery. 'Oh, yes, cousin,' he said. 'And we could fly over our empires on the backs of winged pigs. I do believe I saw a feathered pig swooping past my window as I arrived.'

'I don't blame you for your cynicism, Panagyn,' said Aric. 'I will even give you another opportunity for jest. Not only can we rule these empires, but we will never die. We will be immortal like gods.' He fell silent for a moment, then smiled. 'You wish to make another jest?'

'No – but I would appreciate you offering me a taste of the narcotic you have obviously been imbibing.'

Aric laughed. 'How is your eye?'

'It hurts, Aric. How do you think it feels? An arrow cut through it, and I had to pluck out both shaft and orb.'

'Then perhaps a small demonstration would aid our negotiation,' said Aric. He turned to Eldicar Manushan. The magicker raised his hand. From the tip of his index finger a blue flame leapt into the air, closing in on itself and swirling, like a tiny, glowing ball.

'What is this?' asked Panagyn. Suddenly the ball sped across the room, flowing through the silver eye-patch. Panagyn fell back with a groan. He swore loudly and scrabbled for his dagger.

'No need for that,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'Stay calm and wait for the pain to pass. The result will surprise you, my lord. The pain should be receding now. What do you feel?'

'An itching in the socket,' muttered Panagyn. 'It feels like something is lodged there.'

'As indeed something is,' said Eldicar. 'Remove your eye-patch.' Panagyn did so. The socket had been stitched tight. Eldicar Manushan touched his finger to the sealed lids. The skin peeled back, the muscles of the lids swelling with new life. 'Open your eye,' ordered the magicker.

Panagyn obeyed him. 'Sweet Heaven!' he whispered. 'I have my sight. It is a miracle.'

'No, merely magic,' said Eldicar, looking at him closely. 'And I didn't quite get the colour right. The iris is a deeper blue in your right eye.'

'Gods, man, I care nothing for the colour,' said Panagyn. 'To be free of pain – and to have two good eyes.' Rising from his chair, he walked to the balcony and stared out over the bay. He swung back to the two men. 'How have you done this?'

'It would take rather an age to explain, my lord. But essentially your body regenerated itself. Eyes are really quite simple. Bones take a little more expertise. Had you, for example, lost an arm it would have taken several weeks – and more than two dozen spells – to regrow. Now, if you will, my lord, take a close look at your cousin.'

'Good to be able to take a close look at anything,' said Panagyn. 'What am I looking for?'

'Does he seem well to you?'

'You mean apart from dyeing his hair and beard?'

'It is not dye,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'I have given him back some ten years or so. He is now a man in his early thirties, and could remain so for several hundred years. Perhaps more.'

'By the gods, he does seem younger,' whispered Panagyn. 'And you could do this for me?'

'Of course.'

'And what do you require in return? The soul of my first-born?' Panagyn forced a laugh, but his eyes showed no humour.

'I am not a demon, Lord Panagyn. I am a man, just as you are. What I require is your friendship, and your loyalty.'

'And this will make me a king?'

'In time. I have an army waiting to enter this land. I do not wish them to have to fight as soon as they arrive. Far better to enter a land that is friendly, that will be a base for expansion. You have upwards of three thousand fighting men. Aric can summon close to four thousand. I do not wish for a battle so early.'

'Where is this army coming from?' asked Panagyn. 'The lands of the Chiatze?'

'No. A gateway will open not thirty miles from here. One thousand of my men will pass through it. It will take time to bring the whole army through. Perhaps a year. Perhaps a little more. But once our base here is established we will conquer the lands of the Chiatze, and beyond. The ancient realm will be restored. And you will be rewarded beyond any dream you can envisage.'

'And what of the others, the Duke, Shastar and Ruall?' asked Panagyn. 'Are they to be included in our venture?'

'Sadly, no,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'The Duke is a man with no understanding of avarice, and no desire for conquest. Shastar and Ruall are loyal to him, and will follow where he leads. No, initially the land of Kydor will be shared between you and your cousin.'

'They are to die, then?' said Panagyn.

'Indeed. Does that trouble you, my lord?'

'Everybody dies,' replied Panagyn, with a smile.

'Not everybody,' observed Aric.

In the nights that followed the attack on the palace many of the servants found difficulty in sleeping. Alone in their rooms as night fell, they would light lanterns and recite prayers. If sleep did come it was light, the merest sound of wind against the window-frames enough to have them wake in a cold sweat. Not so for Keeva, who slept more deeply than she had in years. Deep, dreamless sleep, from which she awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated.

And she knew why. When the demons had come she had not cowered in a corner, but taken up a weapon and used it. Yes, she had been afraid, but the fear had not overcome her. She remembered her uncle, and pictured his face as they sat on the riverbank. 'You'll hear people say that pride is a sin. Ignore them. Pride is vital. Not excessive pride, mind you. That is merely arrogant stupidity. No, being proud of yourself is what counts. Do nothing that is mean and spiteful, petty or cruel. And never give way to evil, no matter what the cost. Be proud, girl. Stand tall.'

'Is that how you have lived your life, Uncle?'

'No. That's why I know how important it is.' Keeva smiled at the memory, as she sat by the bed of the priestess. Ustarte was sleeping peacefully. Keeva heard the Grey Man enter and glanced up at him. He was dressed all in black, the clothes very fine. He beckoned to her and she followed him into the weapons room. 'Ustarte is in danger,' he said.

'She seems to be recovering well.'

'Not from her wounds. She has enemies. Soon they will come for her.' He paused, his dark eyes locking to her gaze.

'What do you want me to do?' she asked.

'What do you want to do?' he countered.

'I don't understand you.'

'You have a choice of two paths, Keeva. One carries you back up the steps to the palace and your room, the other will take you to places you may not want to go.' He gestured towards the far bench. Upon it was laid a pair of soft leather leggings and a double-shouldered hunting jerkin. Beside the clothes was a belt bearing a bone-handled knife.

'These are for me?'

'Only if you want them.'

'What are you saying, Grey Man? Speak plainly.'

'I need someone to take Ustarte from here to a place of – relative – safety. It must be someone with wit and courage, someone who will not panic when the chase begins. I am not asking you to do this, Keeva. I do not have that right. If you choose to return to your room I will think none the worse of you.'

'Where is this place of safety?'

'About a day's ride from here.' He moved in closer to her. 'Give it some thought. I will be with Ustarte.'

Keeva stood alone in the weapons room. Stepping forward, she laid her hand on the hunting jerkin. The leather was soft and lightly oiled. Drawing the hunting knife from its sheath, she hefted it. It was perfectly balanced, and double-edged. Conflicting thoughts assailed her. She owed her life to the Grey Man, and the debt lay heavy upon her. Equally she loved life in the palace. Proud as she was of her part in the fight against the demons, Keeva had no wish to face any further dangers. She had been lucky in the raid upon the village. Camran could have killed her straight away. That luck had doubled with the coming of the Grey Man. But, surely, there was a limit to one person's luck? Keeva felt she would cross that limit were she to agree to escort the priestess.

'What should I do, Uncle?' she whispered.

There was no answer from the dead, but Keeva remembered his oft-repeated advice.

'When in doubt, do what is right, girl.'