Yatsu listened to this speech anxiously, but kept his face as bland as he could manage. Instinctively he tried to assess the danger from these two men. A faint memory stirred as he looked at the hefty one, standing there like a rock outcrop and gently swinging that strange club. Obviously strong and powerful and, Yatsu felt, perhaps faster than his size might indicate. Not a man to be tackled lightly, least of all in a narrow alleyway. But the other one, the speaker, was different. He offered no gratuitous menace in either his tone or his manner, but Yatsu felt fear rising in him such as he had never known and for an instant he felt as though he were not really there, but looking through someone else’s eyes. Shock, he noted uneasily. Trained to listen to his instincts where reason was inadequate, they were unequivocal in their message. To assail this man would be to die.
Isloman swung his club in a lazy circle and smacked it into the palm of his hand. ‘My friend’s too good-natured,’ he said. ‘After what I’ve seen today, I’m ready to kill you no matter what you do, and then discuss it with your Lord Dan-Tor in like manner.’
Hawklan laid a restraining hand on his arm.
Oddly, the overt threat and Hawklan’s reaction made Yatsu feel easier. It had substance. It was something to work on. He smiled. ‘Orthlundyn aren’t you? By your speech. You’ve picked a bad time for visiting our country.’ There was much he would have liked to ask of these men, but time was against them. ‘We mean you no harm. In fact, I’d not have seen you if you hadn’t moved. We’re not what we seem, Orthlundyn, but we are in a hurry, and we have two sick men in need of urgent help. Will you allow us to pass?’
Hawklan was uncertain. The rider’s manner, as well as his posture, was decidedly unlike any of the Mathidrin they had encountered so far. ‘Sick, you say?’ he queried.
This time it was Isloman’s hand that did the re-straining.
‘Take care,’ he said. ‘There’s something odd about this lot.’
Eldric, unable to bring his horse by the side of Yatsu in the narrow alley, dismounted and came forward. Hawklan watched him without expression.
‘Stranger,’ said Eldric, ‘I give you my word as a Lord of Fyorlund that we mean you no harm. But our business is urgent, and we do have two wounded men who need immediate attention. Please let us pass.’
Hawklan glanced at Isloman. The Carver was blunt. ‘What’s a Lord doing riding with these… cockroaches?’ he demanded.
Arinndier groaned softly. Eldric looked back at his friend and then at Yatsu. Yatsu’s hands flickered casually-we’ll charge through if necessary, but it’ll be dangerous, they said.
‘Very,’ said Isloman stepping forward menacingly, making a hand signal of his own, ‘and you’ll be the first to go if you do.’
Yatsu started as if he had been stung. An Orthlundyn understanding their hand language?
Eldric shook his head. ‘I think you, too, are not what you seem. I’ll risk the truth with you. I’m the Lord Eldric and with me are the Lords Arinndier, Darek and Hreldar. These riders are not Mathidrin, but High Guards in disguise. They’ve rescued us from Dan-Tor’s custody but the Lord Arinndier and one of their number have been hurt. That’s information enough for you to collect a sizeable reward from the Lord Dan-Tor if you wish.’
There was a long, tense silence, during which Islo-man looked at Eldric intently. Then he nodded slowly and with great deliberation placed his club back in its belt strap.
‘Not quite the truth, Lord,’ he said. ‘These men aren’t just High Guards, they’re Goraidin or I’m a wood carver. But that’s for later. It’s enough we needn’t be enemies at the moment. We need help ourselves. Have you a place of safety anywhere in this nightmare?’
This time it was Eldric who was taken aback by Isloman’s unexpected knowledge, but he recovered quickly. ‘Follow us,’ he said decisively and turned to return to his horse.
‘There’s no need to mount, Lord,’ said Yatsu. ‘We’re only paces away. Come.’
Despite Eldric’s acceptance, all the Goraidin were watching Hawklan and Isloman carefully as the two men stepped back and faded into the shade to allow them to pass.
‘You’re a considerable healer, Hawklan,’ said Arinndier weakly. Hawklan did not reply, but laid a hand gently over Arinndier’s eyes. Standing up, he turned to Eldric who was standing by the window looking out into the globe-lit murk and scowling. ‘He’ll sleep for a little while now,’ he said. ‘He was very lucky.’
Eldric did not hear him. Thoughts were tumbling through his mind, defying his every effort to stem their flow and introduce some order. The Goraidin fulfilling their ancient role, dressed as the enemy and venturing into the heart of their territory; the Queen appearing from nowhere, like the Muster itself, eyes ablaze and wielding a dagger; Arinndier wounded; the City as he had never known it, a nightmare of choking fumes, mayhem and chaos. Then these two strangers-Orthlundyn, of all things-an odd pair to say the least. Hawklan exuding an awesome presence, first like a dark presager of death in that gloomy alley and then a giver of life. And Isloman, who knew the hand language and who knew of the Goraidin. He closed his eyes irritably. A hand touched his shoulder, gently and temporarily stilling the turmoil. Turning, he found himself looking into Hawklan’s face.
Eldric waved his hand dismissively. ‘No… Hawk-lan. You don’t understand. We must get to our estates as soon as possible. Find out what’s happened to our families, our High Guards, our lands… everything.’
Hawklan raised a finger for silence. ‘Yatsu tells me his plans for moving you from the City have proved to be impractical at the moment. The disruption in the streets is far worse than they envisaged. He feels it’s too dangerous for you to go out.’ Eldric made to interrupt, but Hawklan was implacable. ‘I’m a stranger here, Lord Eldric, and I know nothing of your City or your people, but I do know the streets are dangerous, and I think it’d be unwise to ignore the advice of one of your Goraidin, don’t you?’
Eldric fidgeted with his beard for a moment, and Hawklan’s tone became a little more conciliatory. ‘Yatsu says this house is safe, and Isloman and I will make two useful extra defenders if the need arises.’
But Eldric’s turmoil merely flowed into this soften-ing by his opponent. ‘No, no,’ he burst out. ‘This is no time for rest. We can fight our way out of the City if necessary.’
Hawklan stood up very straight. ‘You’ll rest,’ he said, in a tone that Eldric had not heard for many, many years. ‘And your friends will rest. You’re no use to yourself, to your families, to the country, anything, while you’re in this state. When you’ve rested we’ll talk. Answer all the questions we have of one another, and then decide what to do. That’s the way of your Geadrol, isn’t it?’
Eldric clenched his fist and his jaw. Hawklan raised an eyebrow. ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘you were just prepared to ignore the advice of your Goraidin. Now you’d offer me violence? Is that the act of a wise leader or an exhausted man?’ He paused, locking Eldric’s gaze with his own. ‘But perhaps there’s a flaw in my logic. I’m not used to your ways.’
It was enough. Eldric surrendered totally though with a commendable degree of dignity, and soon Hawklan had placed the three Lords into a deep and restful sleep. He smiled as he watched the strain ease from their faces, then he went over to the window, as if to continue the vigil that Eldric had abandoned.
After leaving Hawklan at the house to attend to the wounded men, Yatsu and the others had taken the horses to a nearby stable and bedded them down. Yatsu had then made a brief excursion alone into the nearby streets to try to form some impression of the mayhem that had followed the diversionary riot he and his fellows had planned. As he returned to the house, he felt he was being observed, and once or twice thought he heard someone coughing nearby. Above him? You’re getting old and tired, he thought.