The animal’s death throes were of no interest to the younger Bastorran. His attention was on a stag entering the killing ground. The beast was in his prime, chest thrust out, head raised nobly. His off-white, faintly yellowish antlers made for a magnificent display. With the smell of blood in the air the stag was skittish, and he obeyed the instinct to flee. He ran in circles, tossing his head from side to side, intuiting the nearness of death.
Devlor’s arrow winged in and pierced his flank. The stag kept going, leaving a trail of blood on the grass.
‘Again, again!’ Ivak urged.
The stag headed for the slope and began climbing. But men were stationed at the lip. Yelling and waving pikes, they forced the stag back down. Stumbling, almost falling, it was in a state of panic. It turned, ready to make another assault, when Devlor’s second arrow slammed into its side. Its legs buckled and it collapsed, finished.
‘Well
done
, boy!’ Ivak gave his nephew’s shoulder a congratulatory punch. The sort men who otherwise never touched gave each other.
Devlor put on a frigid smile and drew yet another arrow from the sheath.
The prey was still coming, shooed and whipped from behind. A gazelle. A pair of speckled pigs. A slinking fox, three grass snakes, a llama. A trotting buffalo, looking to charge something. Animals that might otherwise be antagonistic, weaving around the bodies of fellow creatures and united in fear.
While Devlor was taking his pick, someone discreetly cleared their throat. Lahon Meakin stepped forward, bowing first to the uncle then, just slightly less deferentially, to the nephew.
‘Yes?’ Devlor said.
‘Begging your pardon, sir, but you asked me to remind you about your meeting with the armourers’ guild. The delegation’s just arrived.’
‘Damn it, yes. I’d forgotten. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
‘Very good. I’ll send someone to assist you, sir.’ Meakin showed them obeisance again, turned and left.
Ivak Bastorran watched him go, sour faced. ‘I’ll never understand why you couldn’t have chosen someone of the blood for an aide.’
‘I tried several. Clansmen are better at fighting than administration, perhaps. None of them was up to muster.’
‘I’m sure I could find you a suitable-’
‘Thank you, uncle, no. I’m satisfied with Meakin. Best adjutant I’ve ever had. So far I’ve not regretted taking him from the army.’
‘The army? He’s a Bhealfan?’
‘Yes. And why not? Should I question his origins when we have no state to boast of at all?’
‘He isn’t a paladin born. We don’t usually allow outsiders such familiarity, you know that.’
‘There’s a limit to the licence I grant him. Be assured I know what I’m doing, uncle.’
Ivak smiled. ‘It’s good to see your old spirit returning. You’re healing well, getting stronger. And I’m delighted, of course I am, but…’
‘But?’
‘I’m worried that you might do something foolish to even yourself with Caldason.’
‘
Even
myself? I should better him, at least. Annihilate him, for preference. After the hurt and humiliation he subjected me to, not to mention the affront to the honour of the clans-’
‘I know, I know. And I share your hunger for revenge. When he came out best from his engagement with you-’
‘I think you’ll find, uncle,’ Devlor replied frostily, ‘that it was the wagon crashing that prevented me from finishing him. Besides, he caught me on the raw.’
‘Of course, and he’ll pay for it. Dearly. But you’re aware that certain rules apply to our dealings with the man.’
‘Not that you’ve ever explained them to me, or why we should adhere to them.’
‘All you need to know at this stage is that they’re rules we can’t change, and that breaking them could be very detri
mental to clan influence. I wouldn’t like to think you’d imperil our standing with higher authority because of an obsession with the Qalochian.’
‘You can put your mind to rest on that.’ He spied the buffalo and pulled taut his bow. The arrow he discharged took the beast in an eye, felling it instantly.
‘I have your word?’
‘Don’t worry about it. I promise
I
won’t do anything to harm Caldason, uncle.’
‘How long do you think you’re going to be in there?’
Kutch smiled. ‘You really don’t have to come, you know, Reeth. I’m quite capable of doing this by myself.’
‘I’m mindful of what happened the last time you were out alone.’
‘You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘The streets aren’t safe. Best we stick together.’ He glanced towards a pair of militia standing on the other side of the road, watching the crowds.
‘You’re the wanted man,’ Kutch reminded him. ‘I would have thought you were more at risk.’
The look Caldason gave him dispelled any doubt about his attitude to danger. But he had made concessions to his status as an outlaw; he was wearing a grey, hooded jerkin with the cowl pulled up, and he’d temporarily dispensed with his trademark second sword.
For his part, Kutch had refrained from wearing his blinkers, though he had them ready in his pocket.
They were making their way through the press of people in central Valdarr, with several blocks to go before they reached their destination. Watchmen were out in force, along
with militia and regular soldiers. There was no shortage of distinctive red-garbed clansmen either.
‘I’ve never seen so many paladins,’ Kutch remarked.
‘The word means heroes,’ Caldason informed him rancorously. ‘Did you know that? It says something about their arrogance that they should have chosen it.’
‘Perhaps this isn’t the best time to be out and about after all,’ Kutch suggested, gauging the Qalochian’s mood.
‘We’re nearly there. No point in turning back now.’ He mellowed a little and added, ‘Don’t worry, there won’t be any trouble.’
They pushed on silently for a moment, Kutch gathering mettle to raise a subject.
‘Reeth.’
‘Hmmm?’
‘About what you told me.’
‘What was that?’
‘That you think you were responsible for…’
‘My mother’s death?’
‘Yes.’ He was treading softly, nervous of how Caldason might react.
‘What about it?’
‘It was a vision, Reeth. Can you be sure it was true?’
‘I can’t swear that what I see in the visions is truth. But I’d swear to them feeling like it.’ He turned his gaze to the boy. ‘You’ve had some experience yourself now. Do they seem real to you?’
‘Real? Yes. Remember the first time we met, at my master’s house? You said something I didn’t understand. As you were going into your fit you spoke about it being a dose of reality.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes, and I didn’t understand it at the time.’
‘I meant that this other place I glimpse sometimes seems as real as reality. Sometimes it seems…
more
real.’
‘I know, it’s the same with me. I realise how
genuine
it seems. But…suppose it’s some kind of really convincing glamour or-’
‘You’re clutching at straws. The way I used to.’
‘What are you saying? That it’s
actual
? If that’s the case, why were you seeking out my master, and all those other sorcerers you’ve consulted? You must have thought it was some kind of hex.’
‘I don’t know what I was thinking, Kutch. Like I said, clutching at straws.’
‘Phoenix says we shouldn’t close our minds to any possibility until we have proof that what we believe is true. You’ve no evidence that the visions show the truth.’
‘That’s what I was hoping the Source could do. Disentangle truth from lies for me, and free me.’
‘So why are you throwing the chance away?’
‘What?’
‘To find the Source you have to find the Clepsydra’s hiding place. To get
there
you need the help of the Resistance. Refusing to deliver the gold to Darrok isn’t going to make them happy to help, is it?’