On an afternoon when the spring weather was hinting at the heat of summer to come, Sarazin was sleeping off a hangover in a room built above Selzirk's northern gate when he was awoken by Erhed. 'What is it?' said Sarazin.
'They're coming!' said Erhed, frantic with fear and excitement. 'They're coming, they're coming!' 'Who?' said Sarazin. 'Hearst is coming. Miphon is with him.' 'You're kidding,' said Sarazin.
But Erhed was all sincerity. Sarazin scarcely had time to arm himself and get down to ground level before the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst came through Selzirk's gates in company with the wizard Miphon. They and their two companions were all mounted. 'He's lost his hand,' hissed Erhed, astonished. 'Who has?' said Sarazin.
'Hearst! That's him! The one with the hook for a hand! The green-eyed one is Miphon. Those other two – one's a woodsman from Estar, the other I don't recognise.' 'We'll know soon enough,' said Sarazin. And stepped forward to challenge the strangers. 'Halt!' cried Sarazin.
Before the strangers could flee or fight, Sarazin's men grabbed the reins of their horses. What now? Were the strangers spies, refugees, enemies, allies? Were they in flight from Elkor Alish or were they in his pay? Sarazin's men were looking at him, waiting for orders. -Plovey must not know of this.
That was vital. Plovey would know shortly, of course. But Farfalla must know first. If these uitlanders became allies against Elkor Alish they must be Farfalla's allies, not Plovey's. You,' said Sarazin to Hearst, 'come with me.'
'Who are you to command me?' said Hearst, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.
Sarazin, who knew the temper of the Rovac from long acquaintance with Jarl, feared a fight then and there. Adopting his most lordly voice, he said:
'My name is Watashi. I'm eldest son of the kingmaker, Farfalla, highest power in the Harvest Plains. Mark me well: I'm the best swordsman in Selzirk, and my blade is faster than yours.' The bluff held Hearst – for the moment.
'I've been here before,' said Miphon. 'Then, Farfalla's eldest son was Sarazin Sky.'
Sarazin was furious. How had the wizard learnt of that pet name? He hated it! Through gritted teeth, he said:
'So men have called me. But names may change with the times. Watashi is my name now, as I have told you. Come.'
And, to Sarazin's surprise, the strangers obeyed, and gave him no trouble as he escorted them to Farfalla's High Court. He had their names by the time they arrived.
On admitting the strangers to Farfalla's presence, Sarazin felt a pang of shame at the manifest poverty of his mother's throne room. It should have been rich with gold, silver, tapestries and ivory; it should have been filled with music and incense, with slaves in silks and supplicants crowding round the throne.
Instead, it was the same old place as ever, with just a few guards in cheap grey, a couple of scribes and a handful of serving women keeping his mother company. To Sarazin's mortification, Farfalla's skin was dyed red. How gauche! He was furiously embarrassed, since the fashion for red skin had already been fast-fading since the year before. Worse – Farfalla was wearing clunky copper earrings and peasant bracelets which belonged to a phase of fashion older yet. -What did I do to deserve such a mother?
Sarazin knew the strangers must be sniggering behind their mask-stolid faces, but suppressed his embarrassment, and, in his grandest style, said:
To the kingmaker, mother of all the peoples, ruler of the See of the Sun, greetings. Here before you stands the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst, and here, the wizard from the south, Miphon. This one here we believe to be a peasant from Estar, Blackwood. And this one, perhaps with truth and perhaps not, tells me he is a Galish merchant by the name of Ohio.'
Farfalla took her time assessing Hearst and his com- panions. Then she began to interrogate him. She let him know that some of his erstwhile quest companions had been interrogated, and had betrayed their knowledge of his pursuit of the wizard Heenmor, his quest for the death-stone.
'We have received an ugly little embassy demand- ing our surrender in the name of Elkor Alish and the death-stone,' said Farfalla. 'Knowing this Alish to be sworn to the service of wizards, and lacking any evi- dence of a death-stone slaughter said to have taken place near Runcorn, I have chosen to disregard this threat. Yet I see this Alish is not of your party. So is he dead? And if not, does he indeed command the death- stone?'
Sarazin thought he could understand his mother's strategy. There was panic in Selzirk – a panic made all the worse by very tangible evidence of the death-stone's work. Farfalla was concealing this from the strangers to strengthen her own negotiating position. But what did she hope for?
They most certainly did not have the death-stone itself, for that was in Runcorn with Elkor Alish.
While so thinking, Sarazin had not been paying attention to Morgan Hearst, who had been talking all the while. Sarazin caught just Hearst's last word: '… intelligence.'
Then Hearst's companions disappeared. They vanished! One moment they were there, the next they were gone. Two bottles rang as they hit the stone floor: a red bottle and a green bottle. And Hearst was uncovering something, was holding it aloft. 'The death-stone!' cried Hearst. 'Move and you die.' 'Die yourself!' snarled Sarazin.
And drew his sword, attacked, glimpsed something flying towards him Then staggered into stars, blundered into darkness, and collapsed. Unconscious.