The King Beyond the Gate

'You are the Earl of Bronze?'

'I am Regnak, the Earl of Bronze. Now take me into the mountains!'

They rode through the night, cutting left into the Delnoch range and up through many passes, winding into the heart of the mountains. Four times they were intercepted by Sathuli scouts, but always they were allowed on. At last, as the morning sun reached the heights of midday, they rode into the inner city — a thousand white stone buildings filling the bowl of a hidden valley. Only one building stood higher than a single storey and this was the palace of Sathuli.

Scaler had never been here. Few Drenai had. Children gathered to watch them pass and as they approached the palace some fifty white-robed warriors carrying curved tulwars joined them, lining up on either side. At the palace gates a man waited, arms folded across his chest. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his face was proud.

Scaler halted his horse before the gates and waited. The man unfolded his arms and walked forward, dark brown eyes fixed firmly on Scaler's.

'You say you are a dead man?' asked the Sathuli. Scaler waited, saying nothing. 'If that is so, you will not mind if I pass my sword through your body?'

'I can die like any man,' said Scaler. 'I did it once before. But you will not kill me, so let us stop playing these games. Obey your own laws of hospitality and offer us food.'

'You play your part well, Earl of Bronze. Dismount and follow me.'

He led them to the west wing of the palace and left them to bathe in a huge marble bath, attended by male servants who sprinkled perfumes into the water. Belder said nothing.

'We cannot tarry here too long, Lord Earl,' said Pagan. 'How much time will you give them?'

'I have not decided yet.'

Pagan eased back his giant frame into the warm water, ducking his head below the surface. Scaler summoned a servant and asked for soap. The man bowed and backed away, returning with a crystal jar. Scaler poured the contents on his head and washed his hair; then he called for a razor and a glass and shaved his chin. He was tired, but he felt more human for the bath. As he mounted the marble steps, a servant ran forward with a towelling robe which he placed over Scaler's shoulders. Then he led him to a bedchamber, where Scaler found his clothes had been brushed clean. Taking a fresh shirt from his saddlebag, he dressed swiftly, combing his hair and placing his headband carefully over his brow. Then on impulse he removed the leather band and searched his saddlebag to find the silver circlet with the opal centrepiece. He settled it into place and another servant brought him a mirror. He thanked the man, noting with satisfaction the awe in the tribesman's eyes.

Lifting the mirror, he gazed at himself.

Could he pass himself off as Rek, the Warrior Earl?

Pagan had given him the idea when he said that men were always willing to believe that other men were stronger, faster, more capable than themselves. It was all a matter of portrayal. He had said that Scaler could appear to be a prince, an assassin, a general.

Then why not a dead hero?

After all, who could prove otherwise?

Scaler left the room; a tribesman carrying a spear bowed and requested him to follow. The man led him to a wide chamber in which sat the young man from the gates, the two Sathuli he had rescued and an old man in robes of faded brown.

'Welcome,' said the Sathuli leader. 'I have someone here who is anxious to meet you.' He pointed to the old man. 'This is Raffir, a holy man. He is of the line of Joachim Sathuli, and a great student of history. He has many questions concerning the siege of Dros Delnoch.'

'I will be happy to answer his questions.'

'I am sure you will. He also has another talent we find of use — he speaks with the spirits of the dead. Tonight he will enter into a trance and you will be delighted, I am sure, to attend.'

'Of course.'

'For myself,' said the Sathuli, 'I am looking forward to it. I have listened to Kaffir's spirit voice many times and often questioned him. But to have the privilege of bringing together such friends. . well, I feel great pride.'

'Speak plainly, Sathuli!' said Scaler. 'I am in no mood for children's games.'

'A thousand apologies, noble guest. I was merely trying to tell you that Kaffir's spirit guide is none other than your friend, the great Joachim. I shall be fascinated to listen to your conversation.'

* * *

'Stop panicking!' said Pagan as Scaler paced the room. The servants had been dismissed and Belder, dismayed at the news, was strolling in the rose garden below.

'There is a time for panic,' said Scaler, 'when all else fails. Well, it has — so I'm panicking.'

'Are you sure the old man is genuine?'

'What difference does it make? If he is a fake, he will have been schooled by the prince to deny me. If he is genuine, the spirit of Joachim will deny me. There is no way round it!'

'You could denounce the old man as a fake,' offered Pagan, without conviction.

'Denounce their holy man in their own temple? I don't think so. It stretches the laws of hospitality to breaking point.'

'I hate to sound like Belder, but this was your idea. You really should have thought it through.'

'I hate you sounding like Belder.'

'Will you stop that pacing? Here, have some fruit.' Pagan tossed an apple across the room but Scaler dropped it.

The door opened and Belder entered. 'It's a real mess and no mistake,' he said glumly.

Scaler sank into a wide leather chair. 'It should be quite a night.'

'Are we allowed to go armed?' asked Pagan.

'If you like,' said Belder, 'though I cannot see even you fighting your way through a thousand Sathuli!'

'I don't want to die without a weapon in my hand.'

'Bravely spoken!' said Scaler. 'I will take this apple. I don't want to die without a piece of fruit in my hand. Will you put a stop to this talk of dying? It's extremely unsettling!'

The conversation struggled on pointlessly until a servant tapped on the door, entered and requested them to follow him. Scaler asked the man to wait while he moved to the full-length mirror on the far wall and gazed at his reflection; he was surprised to find himself smiling. He swung his cloak over his shoulder dramatically and adjusted the opal headband on his brow.

'Stay with me, Rek,' he said. 'I shall need all the help there is.'

The trio followed the servant through the palace until they reached the porch to the temple, where the man bowed and backed away. Scaler walked on into the cool shadows and out into the temple proper. Seats on all sides were filled with silent tribesmen, while the prince and Raffir sat side by side on a raised dais. A third chair was placed at Raffir's right. Scaler drew himself upright and marched down the aisle, removing his cloak and settling it carefully over the back of his chair.

The prince stood and bowed to Scaler. There was, Scaler thought, a malevolent gleam in his dark eyes.

'I welcome our noble guest here this evening. No Drenai has ever stood in this temple. But this man claims to be the Nadir Bane, the living spirit of the Earl of Bronze, brother in blood to the great Joachim. Therefore it is fitting that he should meet Joachim again in this holy place.

'Peace be on your souls, brothers, and let your hearts open to the music of the Void. Let Raffir commune with the darkness. .'

Scaler shivered as the vast congregation bowed their heads. Raffir leaned back in his seat; his eyes opened wide and then rolled back under the sockets. Scaler began to feel sick.

'I call upon you, spirit friend!' shouted Raffir, his voice high-pitched and quavering. 'Come to us from the holy place. Give us of your wisdom.'

The candles in the temple guttered suddenly, as if a breeze had sprung up in the midst of the building.

'Come to us, spirit friend! Lead us.'

Once more the candle-flames danced — and this time many went out. Scaler licked his lips; Raffir was no fake.