‘Do you ever see any of this in dreams?’
‘No, only when I’m awake. When I was practising spotting,
at first. Then it started when I wasn’t. That’s what scared me.’ His eyes had been downcast. Now he lifted them, and they were wide with dread. ‘You know what frightens me most?’
‘Tell me.’
‘That I’ll get to see more of it.’
‘We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.’
‘How?’
Phoenix didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, ‘And this…
place
is familiar to Caldason?’
‘He says it is. But he sees lots more than I do. It’s hard to say what, because he’s not keen to talk about it.’ He added, hesitantly, ‘Though he just told me about something else he’d seen. Something new. I can trust you, can’t I, Phoenix? I mean, if Reeth thought I’d been talking about it-’
‘You have my word.’
Kutch took a breath. ‘He told me that he was responsible for his mother’s death.’
‘He knew this from one of these visions?’
‘Yes. Or thought he did. I was there. He was shouting and screaming in his sleep and it woke me up. We talked about it.’
‘And he said he killed his own mother?’
‘He didn’t really explain it, just said it was his fault. But I can’t see how he could be responsible.’
‘Let’s get this straight. Caldason has visions about his past life. You don’t share those. The other sort of visions, about another place, you do share.’
‘Yes. And Reeth’s visions seem to…evolve. They’re getting more elaborate for some reason.’
‘And they’re tied in somehow with these berserk fits he has.’
‘He has visions without berserking. But rarely a fit without a vision. At least, that’s what he says. It’s all so complicated, I don’t understand it.’
‘It’s one of the things that makes him so dangerous, Kutch.’
‘I know.’
‘I mean, much more dangerous than any ordinary man. Think about it. Imagine you had an infinite amount of time to perfect whatever it was you did. Your magical studies, for instance. I myself have had the privilege of an extended life-span, and it’s been enormously beneficial to my understanding of the Craft. Caldason’s become such a good fighter because he’s had years to develop his skills, years without his body deteriorating or his stamina lessening. I estimate he’s older than me, yet he’s still as strong as a mountain buffalo on ramp. But whether his mental faculties have stayed as hardy-’
‘He’s not a bad man.’
‘I’m not saying he is. I think you’re right; he has the impulses of a decent man. But even the best of us can act in evil ways when under a powerful influence. Money, lust, pride…many things can turn a person bad.’
‘Not Reeth.’
‘Perhaps. But I can see why he has such a loathing of magic. Assuming magic’s the cause of his state. Which I’m not entirely convinced it is.’
‘You doubt it?’ Kutch was surprised.
‘In some ways. Do
you
know of any sorcery that could make somebody damn near immortal?’
‘Founder magic.’
‘Magic we have access to, I mean.’
‘You had access to it. It extended your life. You just said so.’
‘I was fortunate in having the chance to study a tiny scrap of surviving Founder lore. One of the very few. Decades I’ve pored over it. Its gift to me is my extended life, along with some immunity to disease. Wonderful things, but all there is to be taken from it, I’m sure.’
‘That proves my point, doesn’t it? If you’ve achieved that from just a little fragment, what might somebody else do with more? With Founder magic, they could do anything.’
‘There is no such somebody. I would have known about it. Covenant would have known. And the remaining morsels of Founder knowledge are very rare.’
‘Suppose someone’s already found the Clepsydra, and has the Source?’
‘Then we’d
certainly
know about it. Whoever had it, assuming they understood how to use it, would be running the world. And you’re forgetting that if they found it long enough ago to affect Caldason with it, they’d likely have wrung all its secrets out by now.’
‘Well, perhaps they’re about to. Maybe they’ve been teasing bits out for years, and making use of each new piece of knowledge as they deciphered it. And maybe Reeth was-’
‘No. The best protection the Source has is that extracting its secrets will prove an almost impossible task. Except for Covenant, which has studied practically nothing else for centuries.’
‘I hope you’re right, Phoenix. For Reeth’s sake if nothing else. He’s gambling a lot on the Clepsydra being found.’
‘Understandable. But I wish I’d never told him about it.’
‘You know he’s refusing to deliver the gold to Darrok?’
Phoenix nodded.
‘I can’t blame him. Like he said, he didn’t sign on for a war with pirates.’
‘I think he’ll come round. If he doesn’t, there are others in the movement who could carry out the mission. No one’s indispensable, Kutch, not even a man with such extraordinary talents as Caldason.’
‘I don’t know if he’ll change his mind or not. He’s very unpredictable in some ways. Everybody’s worried about Serrah, too.’
‘Another troubled soul. Magic isn’t
her
problem, that’s for sure. We could do without all this, Kutch, with the move not so far off.’
‘What can I do?’
‘About Caldason and Serrah? Very little, I’m afraid. Except continuing to give them your friendship unstintingly. Which isn’t so little after all, really.’
‘And my visions?’
‘That’s something I’m going to have to give a lot more thought to. Meanwhile, follow the exercises I’ve given you. Meditate. Breathe. And no more spotter training for you for a while, that’s certain. Oh, and there’s some reading you might find beneficial. I’ll give you a list.’
Kutch pulled a long face. ‘More studying?’
‘There’s nothing like the sustenance a good book can give you, boy, believe me.’
‘There’s nothing like a clean kill to lift the spirits, boy, take it from me,’ Ivak Bastorran enthused.
His nephew grunted and nocked an arrow.
They were on a balcony of a building at the paladin compound. Bundled against the autumn chill, Devlor Bastorran sat in a chair not unlike a throne, his bound leg supported by a footstool. Chair and stool had been elevated with wooden blocks, allowing him a clear view over the balcony’s low wall. He held a short bow, and a quiver lay across his lap. His uncle stood beside him, spine straight as a spear, hands clasped behind his back.
Several storeys below, neatly trimmed lawns spread out. They ran a considerable distance before reaching a border of mature trees. Beyond the trees stood the compound’s lofty walls. Nearest the building there was a natural, grassy amphitheatre of perhaps half an acre, with sloping sides. It was this area that the Bastorrans looked down on.
To their left, and almost out of sight, was an elongated wooden building resembling a stable. Ivak lifted a hand and signalled, and an unseen minion heeded the sign. Bolts were thrown, hinges squeaked. The sound of cracking whips could be heard.
A fawn stumbled into view. It had a whimsical way of walking, its slender, uncertain legs almost crossing with each step. Tan, with white mottling and underbelly, it had the tiny beginnings of horns. Its eyes were dark and soft.
An arrow struck the fawn’s neck. The animal went down, so light it seemed to bounce when it hit the green sward. Its legs convulsed, twitched. Were still.
‘Too easy,’ Devlor muttered, reaching for another shaft.
Three or four rabbits scurried into the amphitheatre. He got one square in the head, the force knocking it several feet.
‘Good shot!’ his uncle exclaimed.
Devlor didn’t bother with the other rabbits. Something more challenging had appeared. A snorting boar charged through; head down, tusks close to ploughing the earth, mad as hell. It took an erratic path around the grassy basin. So much so that Devlor’s first shot flew over the boar’s back and ran into the ground. The creature turned to look in his direction, clouds of huffing breath issuing from its flared nostrils.
Re-nocking quickly, Devlor fired again. His bolt pierced the squealing boar’s forehead. It collapsed and went into spasms. Seconds later the vigour had gone from its eyes and it gave up the struggle.