‘Lucky, of course,’ answered Masrick. ‘You know where she is?’
‘Indeed I do.’ Asmidir clapped his hands twice. A line of warriors filed silently into the room; tall men in black cloaks and helms, all carrying sabres of shining steel. They wore black mail-shirts which extended to their thighs, and black boots reinforced with strips of black steel. Across their chests each wore a thick leather baldric, complete with three throwing knives in jet-black sheaths. Kollarin moved back against the wall as the warriors fanned out. He recognized the servant Ari, though the man now looked like a prince of legend.
Masrick was also watching them. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he asked.
Asmidir chuckled and without turning his head he gave an order. ‘Kill the guards,’ he said, his voice even, almost regretful.
Kollarin watched as if in a dream. Two of the black-garbed warriors drew throwing knives from their sheaths and slowly turned. One of the guards, a man with a bruised and swollen nose, frantically tried to draw his sword; a knife-hilt appeared in his throat and he sank back against the wall. The second guard turned to run; a black knife slashed through the air taking him in the back of the neck and he fell forward, his face striking the edge of the table; the blow dislodged his helm which rolled across the table-top. The two dark-skinned warriors retrieved their blades and returned to stand in line with their comrades.
Masrick’s face was ashen. Kollarin almost felt pity for the man. ‘Ari,’ said Asmidir softly, ‘is our guest ready to join us?’
‘Yes, Lord.’ Ari departed the hall and a terrible silence followed. Masrick was sweating now and Kollarin saw that the little man’s hands were trembling. Despite his armour he looked nothing like a soldier.
‘I… I… don’t want to die, Asmidir,’ he whimpered, tears spilling to his cheeks. The black man ignored him. ‘Please don’t kill me!’ The hall door opened and Ari returned. Behind him came another warrior and Kollarin’s breath caught in his throat. She was tall and slender, her hair silver-white like the chain-mail tunic she wore. Thigh-length and split at the sides, the links gleamed like jewels. Her long legs were encased in glistening black leggings, delicately reinforced by more silver chain-links around the upper legs, and a crimson cloak hung from her shoulders. Kollarin had never seen a more beautiful woman. As she entered all the warriors, including Asmidir, bowed deeply. Kollarin followed their lead.
Masrick tried to stand, pushing his arms against the sides of the chair, but his legs would not move. He slumped back, then a convulsion jerked his body in several spasms. Asmidir leaned over him. ‘Your hunt was successful, Masrick. You are in the presence of Sigarni. Die happy!’
Spittle frothed at Masrick’s lips and his eyes bulged. Then he was still, the open eyes staring unfocused at the man before him. The silver-armoured woman approached the chair and stared down at the dead man. ‘Did he die of fright?’ she asked Asmidir.
‘No. He smeared poison upon his lips.’
The woman looked at Kollarin, who bowed once more. ‘Why does this one live?’
‘In truth I am not sure,’ said Asmidir. ‘He refused to hunt you, and I do not know why. He is the Finder, Kollarin. Do you wish him slain?’
Kollarin waited, his green eyes watching the woman’s face. ‘Why did you refuse?’ she asked him.
‘That is not easy to answer, lady,’ he told her, surprised that his voice remained steady. ‘A man appeared to me and asked me to spare you.’
‘Describe him.’
‘The face was powerful, deep-set blue eyes. His hair was silver-white, like yours, and he wore his beard in two braids.’
She nodded, then swung to Asmidir. ‘Let him live,’ she said.
The black man was about to speak, yet held his silence. Stepping back, he allowed Sigarni to dominate the centre of the room. Her armour he had brought with him from Kushir, intended as a gift for the warrior king the seer had spoken of. Asmidir had always pictured it upon the muscular form of a young man. Yet now, as he gazed upon her martial beauty, he could scarce believe he had not purchased it with Sigarni in mind. Everything about her was regal, and he wondered how he had failed to notice it before.