‘There’s the question of pride, young man. I am a hunter – and though I say it with all due modesty, I am the best hunter of men this land has ever seen. I was told to find you. Now I have done that. No-one can say that Parax failed. That means a lot to me.’
‘Your people murdered my friend,’ said Conn, seeking now to rekindle his anger.
‘I know,’ said Parax. ‘It was a foul deed, committed by foul men. His killing was not the first. The Perdii had a good king, you know. Life was fine. He cared. Cared about his people, felt their sorrows, shared their joys. Carac had him murdered, dragged to a river and held under water. That was his reward for eighteen years of good rule. His wife was strangled, his son butchered. And all for a crown that will be torn from his grasp by Jasaray and his Stone army.’
‘You say the Perdii had a good king. Are you not from that tribe?’
‘No. I am of the Rodessi. But I have lived among the Perdii for twenty years.’ Parax rose smoothly and walked to his pony, dipping his hand into a sack hanging from the saddle. ‘You want something to eat?’ he asked. ‘I have a little meat pie, flavoured with onion. It is good,’ said Parax.
Conn was becoming lost in this exchange, and he knew it. Parax pulled the pie clear, carefully broke the crust and handed a section to the young warrior.
‘Thank you,’ said Conn, automatically.
‘My pleasure,’ answered Parax, with a grin. Then he sat down again and ate. Conn tasted the pie. Parax had understated its virtues. It was more than good. It was food for the gods! Forcing himself to eat slowly he devoured the pie, then licked the gravy from his fingers.
‘Better than raw rabbit, eh?’ said Parax.
‘I never tasted better,’ agreed Conn.
‘I bought it from a crofter’s wife yesterday. You should have tasted it hot. There’s nothing like beef and onion to satisfy an appetite.’ Parax swallowed the last mouthful and wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I had the feeling you would survive the Talis wood. I see that not only did you survive, but you also emerged with gifts. New clothes, a sword. They are a fey people, but they seem to like you. Tell me, what do they look like?’
‘I saw a face form in the bark of a tree, and I dreamed I was with a man whose features I could not – at first – see clearly, even though he sat beside me in bright sunlight.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I have decided not to kill you, hunter.’
‘I knew that,’ said Parax, climbing to his feet. ‘As I said, you are not a murderer, young Rigante. Do you want me to carry a message to Carac?’
Conn’s expression hardened. ‘I have already sent a message. One is enough.’
‘I heard it. So did he,’ said Parax. Turning his back on Conn he walked to his pony and swung into the saddle. There are riders to the west and to the north. Were I you, I would head due east. The border is less than a day away. There is a town there. The Stone army is camped nearby. You will be safe there, I think.’
Turning his mount the hunter rode down the hill. Conn watched him go.
Then he mounted his own pony and headed for the border. Parax was right. He was no murderer. But that was not why he had allowed the old man to live. Conn’s hatred was for the Perdii only. For the people who had murdered his friend.
And the blood price for that crime would be high.
CHAPTER TEN
THE STONE GENERAL, JASARAY, MOVED SLOWLY ALONG THE INNER
perimeter of the marching camp, his hooded eyes scanning the activity around him. Eight thousand soldiers, working in highly skilled teams to pre-ordained tasks, creating in a few hours a fortress that should have taken days. As Jasaray passed, all the soldiers felt the presence of the general, and believed they could feel his pale blue gaze whisper across them like a winter breeze, judging their labours, the speed of their work, the precision of their actions. Not one of them risked a glance in his direction.