‘How goes it?’ she asked.
‘Better than we expected. But more than four hundred men are dead at both walls. At least another four hundred will not fight again.’
‘How many does that leave us?’
‘Around three hundred here. Five hundred at Tarsk.’
‘Can we hold?’
‘Who the Hell knows? Maybe one more day. Maybe two.’
‘Still a day short,’ said Rayvan.
‘Yes. Tantalising, isn’t it?’
‘You look weary. Get some rest.’
‘I will, lady. How are your wounds?’
‘The scar on my face will enhance my looks. The hip is sore.’
‘You have done well.’
‘Tell that to the dead.’
‘I don’t need to,’ said Ananais. “They died for you.’
‘What will you do if we win, Darkmask?’
‘A strange question in the circumstances.’
‘Not at all. What will you do?’
‘Stay a soldier, I suppose. Re-form the Dragon.’
‘What about marriage?’
‘No one would have me. I am not exactly pretty under this mask.’
‘Show me!’ she said.
‘Why not?’ He pulled the mask clear.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that is ghastly. I am surprised you survived. The fang-marks are almost at your throat.’
‘Do you mind if I put this on again? I feel uncomfortable.’
‘Not at all. It is said that you were once the most handsome man in the empire.’
‘True, lady. In those days I would have swept you from your feet.’
‘That’s not saying much. I always had trouble saying no … And that was with ugly men. I even slept with Thorn once, though I daresay he wouldn’t remember. It was thirty years ago – before I married, I might point out.’
‘You must have been very young.’
‘How gallant! But yes, I was. We are in the mountains, Darkmask, and there is precious little entertainment. But tell me, do you love Valtaya?’
‘It’s no business of yours,’ he snapped.
‘Indeed it is not. But answer me anyway.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘This is going to sound hurtful, Ananais . . .’
‘I wondered what we were leading up to.’
‘Well, it is this: if you love her, leave her alone.’
‘Did she ask you to come to me?’
‘No. But she is confused, uncertain. I don’t think she loves you. I think she is grateful and trying to prove it.’
‘I take what I can get these days,’ he said bitterly.
‘I don’t think that’s true.’
‘Leave me alone, Rayvan. Please!’
When she had gone Ananais sat alone for some hours, unable to sleep. His mind relived his triumphs, but strangely there was no longer any satisfaction in his memories. Cheering crowds, pliant women, envious men – he wondered if he had genuinely enjoyed any of it.
Where were the sons he should have bred?
Where was the woman of his heart?
Valtaya?
Be honest with yourself, man. Was it ever Valtaya? If you were still the Golden One, would you give her a second look? Dawn tinted the eastern sky and Ananais chuckled, then laughed aloud.
What the hell? He had lived as hard as a man could.
No use in morbid regret. The past was a dead beast anyway, and the future was a bloody sword in a Skoda valley.
You are nearing fifty years of age, he told himself, and you are still strong. Men follow you. The Drenai people depend on you. Your face may be gone, but you know who you are.
Ananais, the Golden One.
Darkmask, the Ceska Bane.
A bugle sounded. Ananais heaved himself to his feet and walked back to the ramparts.
*
Renya lay awake for the third night, angry and uncertain. The walls of her small tent crowded in on her and the heat was oppressive. For two days now the Nadir had been preparing for war; gathering provisions, choosing their ponies with care. Tenaka had selected two warlords to accompany him, Ingis and Murapi. Renya had learned this from Subodai, for not one word had passed between Tenaka and herself since the night before the Shamen Quest.
She sat up, hurling the sheepskin blanket across the floor. She was tired, yet tense as a bowstring. She knew why, yet knowledge was useless. She was in limbo, caught between her love of the man and her hatred of his mission. And she was lost, for her mind dwelt on him ceaselessly.