Menish knew Azkun would be taken to the endless labyrinth of dungeons beneath the palace. It was the kind of place they might lose a prisoner and there were stories of them opening a cell thought to be empty and finding a skeleton. But Azkun's real danger was Vorish's wrath.
Insulting the Emperor publicly demanded Vorish execute him publicly. To do any less would show weakness and he never showed weakness.
But Menish also knew that the stories of what Azkun had done in the north and even in the streets of Atonir were spreading fast. There were always factions who watched for an opportunity to threaten him. Would they interpret Azkun's words as some kind of rallying cry? Yes, if it suited them to.
And if Vorish ignored the incident it would suggest that Azkun was someone the Emperor dared not punish. He would not take that way.
After the feast was over and they returned to their apartment they found Tenari weeping. Althak had been trying to comfort her, there was tea on the bench beside her he must have fetched. She had not touched the tea.
The next morning, when they had eaten breakfast, servants came to summon them to Vorish’s apartments for a meeting with the Emperor and his chief Drinols. They were led to the same room where Menish had met Vorish the day before. The table was still piled with papers and among them lay the several scrolls of the Gash-Tal. From the way they were rolled Menish could see they had been read recently.
The others were there before them. Menish recognised Treath, Athun and Angoth. There was also a black robed priest of Aton introduced as Tishal. Servants were attending, armed with food, wine and one with quills and fresh paper.
Vorish bade them sit down and offered them wine. When they had exchanged introductions and pleasantries he began.
“I've been thinking about Gashan, Gentlemen. You all know Gashan attempted to invade Relanor forty years ago. Some of you were there, though others of us were not yet born.”
“Gashan?” said Treath. “I thought that it was a tale put about by Anthor in the war with Thealum.” The question was directed more at Menish than at Vorish, and Menish wondered if he was trying to make some point.
“We did spread stories of Gashan in the war against Thealum,” said Menish. “Those stories were true, though they may have sounded fantastic. Gashan is a marshy country that lies north of Anthor. Its people are smaller than we Anthorians, but yellow-haired like you Vorthenki. They're an evil folk and fierce in battle.”
“And the battle years ago?” asked Athun. “Is that also true? You defeated them.”
“It was a victory of a sort. I've suffered better defeats. The armies of Anthor and Relanor were reduced to a tattered band of wounded survivors with an inexperienced, young prince as their leader.
“When they threw fire at us my company managed to reach the river. We covered our shields with cloaks and coats we'd soaked in water. By that time the Gashans had passed us by, pursuing the main army. We attacked them from behind. The fire throwers, who were ranged across the vanguard of the Gashan forces, panicked and tried to blast us through their own ranks. They destroyed themselves.”
“When you say they were destroyed,” said Vorish, “I understand you to mean they were no longer able to fight?”
“A number of their companies retreated with some order, though many were killed outright and others fled in fear. We hunted those down over the following weeks, killing them when we found them. The work only stopped when we heard Sinalth had taken Relanor.”
“And that has taught them to stay away from our lands. Why are we interested in them now?”
Menish noticed the way Treath said 'our lands' which included Anthor, but there was nothing he could say without sounding petulant.
“Rumours, hearsay, tales. Some say Gashan is on the move. Some say they'll attack us in the spring. You understand I can't reveal all my sources even to this company. The news reached me a short time ago and I delayed mentioning it until the King of Anthor arrived so that we have the benefit of his wisdom.”
Everyone knew he had spies everywhere so they expected him to hear of things long before anyone else. That he knew something of Gashan and that he knew of Menish's coming well before he arrived surprised no one. Only Menish wondered how often he really knew, or only seemed to know.
“Has Menish heard these rumours?” asked Treath, turning to him.
“I've been away in the north for weeks now,” said Menish. “Such rumours surely came directly from Anthor and would not reach me.”
How simple it was to fall in with Vorish's deception.
“What is this information you have, Vorish?” asked Althak. “How certain is this attack?”
“Quite uncertain. Hints and conjectures. Nothing more.”
“We need more information, surely,” said Althak. “You can't do anything about it without some confirmation.”
“Are you volunteering to go and see, Althak?”
“Someone must. Yes, I'll go, with M'Lord's permission.” He nodded at Menish who nodded back.
“I think we should review what we know of Gashan before we proceed,” said Vorish. “Would you be so kind, Tishal?”
“Of course. The men of Gashan first attacked Anthor in the days of Telish II, about five hundred years ago. At that time Relanor was weak from a famine and we could do little to aid them. It was Telish’s son Gilish, the third of that name and often called ‘the warrior’, who sent aid to Anthor. He led a vast army into the mountains of Ristalshuz and fought the Gashans, driving them before him well into their own lands. When he returned he commanded a book to be written about his expedition and we have it today. It is known as the Gash-Tal.
“Written there is all we know of the dreadful land of Gashan. As the King of Anthor said, it is a land of marshes and swamps. In the swamps there are fearsome creatures not found anywhere else in the world. Many soldiers were lost to the land of Gashan, rather than to the men of Gashan.
“But he did find an ancient causeway through the marshes that led him to a city the Gashans inhabited. He was surprised that they had built such a causeway and such a city, for they seemed a rude folk.
“Gilish III defeated them so utterly that they were not heard of until the attack the King of Anthor spoke of occurred.”
“My offer to enter Gashan stands,” said Althak. “I'm not afraid of a swamp, especially one with a causeway across it.”
“Your offer is accepted, Althak. There is something else that must be borne in mind on such an expedition.” He paused, eyeing them warily. Menish knew what he was going to say. “They have the Eye of Duzral.”
“The what?” said Angoth.
“Some things should not be spoken of so openly,” frowned Tishal.
“What is this thing?” asked Athun.
“I can tell you,” said Althak, smiling at Tishal’s consternation. “It's an ancient talisman of Relanor. It was made by Gilish and used by him as a weapon-”
“It's better that the true tale is known rather than one that is nearly true,” interrupted Hrangil. “The Eye was fetched by Gilish, the first Gilish, from the Vaults of Duzagen that lie in the Chasm of Kelerish at great cost. The Eye was the defence and prosperity of Relanor, until the battle forty years ago.
“It was lost in the battle. I saw the Emperor engulfed in Gashan fire even as he held the Eye, and I saw the men of Gashan take it from his hands before we drove them off.”
“So they have this Eye,” said Treath. “I'd not heard of it before. Why is it important? It didn't help at this battle you speak of.”
“There are reasons for these things that are not to be spoken of!” protested Tishal.
“The Sons of Gilish are full of secrets,” said Vorish. “It is assumed that Telish IV failed to use the Eye at the battle with Gashan because he was not a descendant of Gilish I. Gilish III, we've spoken of him already, wrote that he used the Eye successfully against Gashan.”
“If that's the case,” said Althak, “then the Eye is rendered useless now. You're not descended from Gilish, neither are the men of Gashan.”
“Perhaps, but something the expedition should try to discover is whether the men of Gashan have found a way to use it anyway. If they haven't then perhaps it can be retrieved. Even if we can't wield it, and I'm not certain of that, I'd rather see it in our hands than theirs. It is, by all accounts, a fearsome thing.”
“What, exactly, does this Eye do?” asked Athun.
Tishal and Hrangil glanced at each other then turned their eyes downwards.
“No one knows what, if any, use the men of Gashan would put it to. But the answer that Tishal and Hrangil are concealing from us is this: The Eye has the power to drive men mad.”
“What do you mean?”
“They usually kill themselves.”
A grim silence followed. This was something Menish had never heard before, but he recalled the tale of how Gilish had thrown himself into the Chasm of Kelerish after he had fetched the Eye. He noticed Athun look at the dagger on his own belt uneasily.
“I, for one, would want to know about that before a battle,” muttered Angoth.
“And I'd rather have the Eye fighting for us,” said Vorish.
“But we know it's powerless now. I said before that you're in the same position as Telish IV. You cannot wield the Eye.”
“If I read my history correctly the lines of Anthor and Relanor mingled before the great civil war that destroyed the line of Gilish in Relanor. Perhaps, Menish, if your father had used the Eye at the battle with Gashan history would have been different.”
“No,” said Tishal. “Only the Emperor can use the Eye. Only the Emperor has the right.”
“My father or me, you mean. I'd have no idea what to do with the thing,” said Menish. “Give me a sword and a horse and I'll fight well enough. I don't trust talismans.”
“If you want to find out anything about the Eye then I must go, for I've seen it,” said Hrangil. “It would be a waste if the others came back with a mistaken tale.” He was looking at Althak as he spoke.
Vorish always got the volunteers he wanted. Menish had noticed this before.
The rest of the meeting was taken up with provisional planning for the attack, if the information were confirmed. Moving nearly twenty thousand men into Ristalshuz and keeping them fed the whole time was something Vorish insisted had to be planned meticulously. A large portion of his standing army would be made ready, some troops could be pulled back from the southern border. Peasant levies could be organised but not until after the harvest was in. And Vorish wanted the peasants armed and trained as well.
Wagon trains would be loaded and dispatched to intersect with the army's route. It became more difficult in Anthor where the roads were bad and there were few supplies to be had. Unlike Vorish, Menish could not order his people to hand over their herds. Though some would if he asked.
At last, in the middle of the afternoon, Vorish concluded their council and announced that he was going to see how Azkun was faring.
As the meeting broke up Althak caught Menish's eye.
“M'Lord, a word?”
“Of course.”
“I know your plan was to leave Keashil and the boy here, and I'm sure Vorish would be happy to have her. But she's grown used to me, and I wonder if it would be as well if she came with us to Meyathal, with your permission, of course.”
“It's a hard journey, Althak.”
“She's not unfit, M'Lord. And younger than she looks. Her hair is white but, even blind, she can pillion on a horse as well any anyone.”
“If you were not so Vorthenki I'd wonder if you were looking for a wife,” said Menish with a smile.
“I have hopes, M'Lord.”
“Then they ride with us. I wish you luck, Althak.”
Azkun passed the night in a damp, gloomy cell somewhere in the bowels of the palace. The only opening was a heavy door with a tiny grill in it, and in one corner was a pile of damp hay that stank of urine. He sat as far away from it as possible, crouching in the corner.
He had been so angry, so outraged. Once he would have done nothing, he would have simply allowed the evil to continue, but not any more. He had called on the dragons to calm a storm, he had stopped the people sacrificing to him at Deenar and he had stopped the man in the knife fight from dying. He was not powerless.
But he could do nothing to stop Vorish’s guards who had taken him from Althak. In spite of Althak telling them Azkun was only drunk, they had not been gentle. Tenari had been pulled away from him, he had scratches on his arm where she had tried to cling on. She had lashed out at the guards, including Althak, screaming incoherently. The last he had seen of her was Althak pulling her in the general direction of their guest apartment with his nose bleeding.
Azkun had not struggled, there was no point telling them not kill and then trying to murder the guards. But, even so, they took their opportunities to batter him on the way to the cell. Vorish’s household guards were fiercely loyal to him. They took exception to what Azkun had said about their Emperor and told him so with blows.
His anger had cooled by the time the glimmer of dawn showed dimly through the grill in the door. The passage outside his cell connected to another that connected to one that had a window. Day here was only a little lighter than night.
Hours after he had noticed the daylight he heard the heavy tread of two guards. They passed his cell carrying a lamp. He called to them but they did not answer. The noise of another cell door clanged and he heard a cry from a prisoner like himself.
They pulled the man from his cell and led him away. Azkun heard the clatter of chains and the miserable pleas of the man to leave him alone. It confused him. Why did the man not want to leave his cell? Where were they taking him that was worse?
Shortly afterwards he knew.
He did not know where the man was, but he knew he was tied with his hands above his head while searing lashes of pain were torn across his back. There were many people watching. Most of them pitiless but in some he felt sorrow. Azkun himself felt each dreadful lash and was barely conscious when they delivered a final blow with something heavy and sharp. Darkness engulfed the man's spirit and reached for his own.
By the time he heard the guards again his back still tingled with remembered agony but his head had cleared. They stopped outside his door and he heard the lock opening. Were they going to do it to him this time?
The door swung open and two armed guards stamped in. He cowered against the back wall, alone and vulnerable. Behind the guards came Vorish.
He walked with the same easy grace he had shown in the Sword Hall the night before. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the guards and they returned to wait in the passage outside, leaving their lamp in the cell.
Azkun relaxed just a little. They were not going to execute him, or not yet, but they had left a dangerous beast in the room behind them.
Vorish said nothing for a moment, he looked at Azkun with his eyes bright in the lamplight, as if he were stalking him.
“The man who was killed looks enough like you from a little distance. It was done in public and many of those watching thought it was you. No one insults me in my own hall.”
“You did that to him because of me?”
Vorish nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I knew you would feel everything.”
“So did he.”
“Yes, so did he. Shall I tell you who he was?”
“Does it matter? He was just another of your victims. As I am.”
“You accuse me of much, Azkun. You throw angry words at me. Now you'll learn exactly what your words did.”
“I would rather be whipped than listen to you!”
“I choose otherwise. Since I'm the most guilty of all surely I'm entitled to choose? The man, his name was Tralath. I've had him watched for some months now. He's been waiting for an opportunity like this, meeting, plotting, gathering support. You think I hold Relanor with no effort? No. There are always people like Tralath, people who would like my throne. You provide a rallying cry for them.
“Tralath and his friends met shortly after the banquet finished to talk of how they could use your speech and subsequent withdrawal to their advantage. They planned to cause a riot in the streets this evening to demand your release from my prison. If the riot went unchecked there would be many deaths. Those who support me fighting those who hate me, and it would be your name they would be shouting as they hacked each other to pieces. Is that what you intended?”
Azkun was shocked into silence. He wanted to challenge Vorish’s assertion, to deny it. But he heard truth in Vorish’s words.
“No, it's not,” continued Vorish. “And how would you prevent this happening? How can you avoid this consequence of your actions? Remember this is not my choice.”
“I… I could speak to them. I could tell them to stop.”
“Fool! They don't want to hear you tell them to stop. They want to murder me and this is a step towards that. Who or what you are is irrelevant. All that matters is power. Shall I tell you my solution?”
Azkun nodded, though he was not certain he wanted to hear.
“I rounded up Tralath and his main supporters as they came out of the meeting. Tralath had to die, of course. The others will have their tongues cut out for speaking sedition. Only half a dozen of them.”
Vorish grasped Azkun by the shoulders and stared into his face. “Now do you see the consequences of your actions? Pain and death, the thing you fear most, you actually caused. Only I was able to prevent it escalating further. I'm not a cruel man, but I rule a cruel people and I have to make cruel decisions.”
“You executed the man, not I.”
“You forced my hand. Until he began to plan violence I was content to have him watched. Your words brought that on, I only acted to contain the violence.”
“That is not fair-”
“That is how the world works, for the rest of us anyway. We have to eat, we have to maintain order, things you seem to ignore. But we have one thing in common, two things actually. Menish has not told you that you're my half brother.”
“Half brother?”
“We have the same mother. You remember the old woman in Lianar, the one who called Tenari her daughter? She escaped from the Chasm after bearing a child there. She assumed the child was Tenari but it was obviously you. You have her looks.”
Azkun was silent for a long moment.
“I did not know I had a mother.”
“Everyone has a mother.” Vorish's mouth twisted into an odd grin. “Though not all have a father they can name. We don't know who yours was.”
“I thought the dragons had formed me. The Vorthenki called me Kopth, Hrangil thinks I am Gilish. It seems we are all wrong.”
“Just because you entered the world in the usual way does not mean you're valueless. Menish thinks that because we know your mother we can dismiss your other peculiarities. I don't.”
“She is your mother too? You said that. Why does she live so far away in Lianar?”
“And not in this palace? That's a long tale. Suffice to say that her attempt to kill first Menish and then myself caused a series of unfortunate events. She doesn't know what became of me, and I don't wish it generally known that she's still alive.”
“Why?”
“Because too many people would try to kill her. You may accuse me of deceit, but once again I'm avoiding needless murder.
“Which brings me to the second thing we have in common. The need to contain violence. We have had news of a possible attack on Menish’s land by an ancient foe from the north. I wish you to help us defend Anthor.”
“Me? What do you want me to do?” Azkun asked guardedly.
“Althak and Hrangil are going to visit the land of this foe, it's called Gashan. They'll spy out their strengths and weaknesses and confirm or deny the information we have on the attack. They'll also search for a talisman taken from Relanor forty years ago, the last time these people attacked us. I wish you to go with them.
“The journey will be dangerous. Gashan is a treacherous land of treacherous folk. The talisman is a thing of great power. It's possible that Althak and Hrangil will be able to fetch this thing, it is also possible that you'll be able to destroy the Gashans with it.”
“I refuse.”
Vorish did not look surprised, he stood silently waiting for Azkun to continue.
“I refuse because I will not commit murder. You will not send me to destroy these folk. I will not do it.”
“Do you want to see these Gashans sweep across Anthor and Relanor, killing and burning everything and everyone they find? You saw Menish and the others fight a band of pirates on your journey. That was a small skirmish, it was nothing compared to what I'm speaking of. You saw, perhaps, twenty pirates killed. I'm talking of thousands of people slain. You may refuse if you wish. But you may never call me cruel again if you do.”
“I will not commit murder!”
“You can't avoid it! The mere fact that you are alive means that others must die. It is inescapable. Life begets death.”
“I do not eat!”
“That does not exempt you from murder by inaction!”
“I have another answer. You would send me to Gashan for a talisman to help you fight these folk. I would rather go to Kishalkuz, the dragon isle, and bring aid from the dragons themselves.”
“I've heard this talk before. This is not the first offer I've had for someone to travel to Kishalkuz. How do you know Kopth, or the dragons, will receive you?”
“Of course they will. They sent me. They called me from the Chasm to be a bridge to themselves.”
“How do you know that?”
“They told me, or I realised it, it does not matter. It is the truth.”
“Perhaps they sent you for another reason. Such as to be their strength against Gashan yourself?” Vorish sat down beside Azkun and looked into his face. The Emperor’s words made him doubt himself deeply. Did he really know what the dragons wanted of him? Of course, to remove the corruption in their creation. He had assumed for so long that this would mean a journey to Kishalkuz that he had not questioned the idea.
“These things are hard to think of,” continued Vorish. “I'll not insult you by claiming that I, also, revere dragons. For me the dragons embody Vorthenki sacrifices and those are repugnant to me. I've forbidden them in Relanor, though I'm not always obeyed. People like Tralath would revive them, that's one of their complaints against me.
“I can't pretend to trust your dragons. But I can trust what I know. There's power in this talisman, there's power in you. I can trust you, you're surprised? Of course you are. But you and I are not so different. We both want to stop all this killing if we can.”
“If I go to Gashan-I will not commit myself to murder, but I will look on Gashan. If I go and return and tell you that this is not the purpose of the dragons, will you let me go to Kishalkuz?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will go.”
Azkun had agreed, however warily, to travel to Gashan. Vorish, therefore, had no quarrel with him, but he did not hold another banquet that evening. Instead he invited Menish, Azkun and the others to his private apartments to eat with him. Azkun was first taken back to the guest apartments. There he was bathed and dressed in fresh clothes, although he kept the golden cord belt Tenari had given him. He felt he wanted that. It was a memento of the one time she had spoken to him, a symbol that she could speak.
When they were ready they were led to a room near the one Menish and the others had met in for most of the day. There were bright hangings on the walls and a large fireplace piled with logs. The fire was unlit because the evening was warm. In the centre of the room were many cushions, some embroidered with complex patterns. Vorish and Sonalish were sitting on the cushions accompanied by several women and four children.
The women, except for Sonalish, rose to make room for them to sit, and to fetch them wine. A platter of cold fish and fruit was brought from another room and placed before them. Sonalish handed some cloth and needles she was holding to one of the women as she greeted Menish.
“Sonalish, you grow more Relanese each time I see you. Is that really embroidery?”
She laughed.
“Of course, Uncle. I'm Relanese now. I've not shot a bow for years and I hardly ever ride.” Her smile faded to a more serious expression. “I still keep my sword arm in practice, that's only sensible.” She pushed forward the largest of the children, a small boy with Vorish’s eyes, and spoke to him. “Men’, do you recognise your great uncle or your Uncle Drinagish? Here Drinagish, you talk to him. You'll be his vassal one day, you should make your impression early as our Uncle Menish did on Vorish!” They laughed and Drinagish took the boy's hand, looking as though he did not know what to do with him.
Men' stared at Drinagish with Vorish's eyes.
“Drinagish,” he said carefully in his piping voice. “Yes, I remember you. You came here three years ago.”
He was not much younger than Olcish, thought Menish, and perhaps the two of them would enjoy each other's company. But Olcish seemed too awed to come out from behind his mother.
Menish smiled and remembered when Vorish had first met Sonalish, years ago now. Vorish was only nineteen, newly ascended to the throne, and she was thirteen, far too young for an Anthorian to marry. He had seen her at the coronation when they placed Gilish’s crown on his head and he had determined then that he would marry her. When she was sixteen he had sent proposals to her, but her mother, Adhara’s sister, would not hear of it. He hardly knew her, she had said, it was not the Anthorian way. So he had gone to Anthor for six months to woo her, and still they refused. Not everyone liked Vorish, he was too forthright, too determined, too Vorthenki, but that was not what they said. They told him she was still too young, which she was.
But the spell was cast. When Sonalish came of age at eighteen she took a horse and rode down to Relanor without her parents' blessing to marry the Emperor. It was considered somewhat improper for her to wed so young, but Menish had intervened and soothed her parents. Vorish needed an Empress, the Vorthenki were uneasy that he had no wives, and, no, he would not prove Relanese or Vorthenki enough to take any others. In reality, Menish knew, Vorish simply always got what he wanted.
And he had wanted Sonalish. What had attracted him Menish did not know. She was pretty, but not especially so, rather lean by stocky Anthorian standards, and she had a pleasant nature. It did not seem enough for someone of Vorish’s towering passions, but it was.
“Are you feeling better, Azkun?” Sonalish inquired as though last night’s outburst had been a minor complaint of indigestion.
He nodded silently, as if minimising any commitment to an answer, but she took his response as definitely positive.
“I'm glad to hear it. You've a long and weary journey before you,” she said. “Hrangil, you're not eating. Here, do try one of these.” She held a large prawn out to him. Menish noticed that she had referred to Azkun’s journey to Gashan, she was obviously informed on Vorish’s policies.
Hrangil shook his head with a smile and picked up a bunch of grapes. “No, thank you. This will suffice.”
“Really, Hrangil,” said Menish. “You ate fish during our voyage. I didn't see you turn your nose up at it then.”
“But I had no choice then, Sire,” he protested. “And now I prefer the Emperor's grapes to his fish.”
“Well, I'll have his prawn then,” Althak took it from Sonalish and expertly cracked it open to extract the meat inside. “Mm… delicious, the Emperor’s table never disappoints.”
“If you like fish and the stink of the sea,” muttered Hrangil, but he noticed that everyone else was grinning at his expected reaction, so he smiled and began to eat his grapes.
Sonalish also offered Tenari food but, although she looked back at her, she made no other acknowledgement. Azkun, of course, also did not accept food.
“I can't understand how neither of them eat,” said Drinagish as he picked white meat from a lobster’s tail. “They ought to be dead with hunger by now, or at least thinner. And Azkun can't afford to lose much weight.”
“I can't understand how a woman can hold her tongue,” declared Althak with a sly grin. Vorish laughed but the Anthorians only smiled politely.
“Does she not speak at all?” asked Sonalish.
“Once,” said Keashil. “She said ‘Gilish’ when she greeted Azkun after we had refreshed ourselves from our journey.”
“I think she's improving,” said Drinagish. “Now that she's cleaned up she seems more normal. Her speech will probably return soon. It must have been hell in that chasm.”
“So the Vorthenki believe,” said Vorish.
“Do they? Anyway, she was quite lively yesterday. She even danced for us when Keashil played.”
“She danced?” asked Vorish. ”What kind of dance?”
“It was a bit, well, Vorthenki, I suppose. Not like our dances.”
“She seems to understand what's going on around her,” said Sonalish. “Perhaps she would like to hold little Adhara. Telma, pass her to me.” The child that Telma, one of Sonalish’s attendants, held on her knee was placed in Tenari’s lap and they watched her enfold the little girl affectionately in her arms and coo at her.
“They're all the same,” said Althak. “Even Anthorian women cannot resist children.”
“A little girl,” said Keashil wistfully.
“She has a voice, then,” said Sonalish. “Perhaps she doesn't understand our speech.”
“She doesn't look Vorthenki or Anthorian,” said Menish. “Too short for one and too slight for the other. I suppose she looks more Relanese than anything, but with those eyes and dark hair she must have Anthorian blood in her.”
Vorish looked intently at Tenari for a moment as if searching her face for something more. But he said nothing.
“Will she accompany us to Gashan, Azkun?” asked Althak.
“Of course. Why not?”
“I'm thinking of the difficulty of the journey, and she seems happy enough here. Perhaps we should leave her behind when we leave for Anthor.”
At that Tenari looked up from the child she held and glared at Althak. She grasped Azkun’s arm and in doing so released her grip on little Adhara, who rolled onto the cushions beside her and began to cry. Keashil rescued the child, finding her unerringly and lifting her into her arms.
“May I?”
“Of course,” said Sonalish.
“Well, that proves she understands us,” said Drinagish nodding towards Tenari.
“It also makes her wishes clear,” said Althak. He shrugged. “It's no extra food, anyway.”
“What is that?” asked Azkun suddenly. A dark brown animal padded silently into the room, its coat immaculately groomed and a jewelled collar around its neck. It made straight for the platter of food and was about to help itself when Telma swatted it away.
“This? This is Sura. Have you not seen one before? They breed them in the south.”
“He's not seen a cat before, of any kind,” said Althak.
“Oh, well, you'll like this one,” said Telma. “He loves people.” She picked the cat up and placed it on Azkun’s lap. It purred loudly and snuggled against him. Its fur coat was silky to his touch.
Azkun was confused by it. The cat obviously adored him, but he could feel a wildness barely below the surface of its mind, a predatory nature that was more vicious than anything he had seen before. How could an animal so savage be so adoring? The cat made him think of Vorish. Vorish was savage, yet Althak had said he was just. He was concerned about Gashan because of all the bloodshed the war would bring. He wanted to avoid that, even if that meant he had to kill. Was this cat like that? He did not know and he suspected he only half understood both Vorish and the cat.
They passed on to less serious matters. Menish told them of an incident in the last spring games when two chiefs had kept up a wrestling bout for a day and a night before Menish declared a draw. It was not a popular decision, many had bets placed on the contestants and there was still argument as to what the outcome would have been. Even Adhara still speculated on that. Menish knew she had wagered some of her camels on the fight.
They had decided to set off for Anthor the next day and were to make use of Vorish’s courier horses to give them extra speed. Vorish had restored the old Relanese system of placing way stations every few miles along the major routes with fresh horses. An imperial courier could cover between two and three hundred miles a day, but it was a somewhat arduous method of travel.
Because they were leaving before dawn they retired early. This time Azkun slept in the guest apartments and not in a damp cell.