The door opened and Scaler glanced round as Pagan entered. The black man smiled a greeting and then eased himself into a broad leather chair. In the lantern light he loomed large, the immense sweep of his shoulders filling the chair. Just like the others, thought Scaler – a man to move mountains.
‘Come to see me off?’ he asked, breaking the silence.
The black man shook his head. ‘I am coming with you.’
Relief struck Scaler with almost physical power, but he masked his emotions.
‘Why?’
‘Why not? I like riding.’
‘You know my mission?’
‘You are to take a fort and open the gates for Tenaka’s warriors.’
‘It is not quite so easy as you make it sound,’ said Scaler, returning to the bed and sitting down. The sword twisted between his legs as he sat and he straightened it.
‘Don’t worry about it, you will think of something,’ said Pagan, grinning. ‘When do you want to leave?’
‘In about two years.’
‘Don’t be hard on yourself, Scaler; it does no good. I know your mission is tough. Dros Delnoch is a city with six walls and a keep. More than seven thousand warriors are stationed there – and some fifty Joinings. But we will do what we can. Tenaka says you have a plan.’
Scaler chuckled. ‘That is good of him. He thought of it days ago and waited for me to catch up!’
‘So tell me.’
‘The Sathuli – they are a mountain and desert people, fierce and independent. For centuries they fought the Drenai over the rights to the Delnoch ranges. During the First Nadir War they aided my ancestor, the Earl of Bronze. In return he gave them the land. I don’t know how many there are – possibly ten thousand, maybe less. But Ceska has revoked the original treaty and border skirmishes have begun again.’
‘So, you will seek aid from the tribesmen?’
‘Yes.’
‘But without great hope of success?’
“That’s fair comment. The Sathuli have always hated the Drenai and there is no trust there. Worse than that, they loathe the Nadir. And even if they do help, how in Hell’s name do I get them to leave the fortress?’
‘One problem at a time, Scaler!’
Scaler stood up and the sword twisted again, half-tripping him; he pulled the scabbard from the belt and hurled it to the bed.
‘One problem at a time? All right! Let us look at problems. I am no warrior, no swordsman. I have never been a soldier. I am frightened of battles and have never displayed much skill at tactics. I am not a leader and would be hard-pressed to get hungry men to follow me to a kitchen. Which of these problems shall we tackle first?’
‘Sit down, boy,’ said Pagan, leaning forward and resting his hands on the arms of the chair. Scaler sat, his anger ebbing from him. ‘Now listen to me! In my own land, I am a king. I rose to the throne on blood and death, the first of my race to take the Opal. When I was a young man and full of pride, an old priest came to me telling me that I would burn in the fires of Hell for my crimes. I ordered a regiment to build a fire from many trees. It could not be approached closer than thirty paces and the flames beat against the vault of heaven. Then I ordered that regiment to put out the flames. Ten thousand men hurled themselves on the blaze and the fire died. “If I go to Hell,” I told the priest, “my men will follow me and stamp out the flames.” From the great Sea of Souls to the Mountains of the Moon, I ruled that kingdom. I survived poison in my wine-cup and daggers at my back, false friends and noble enemies, treacherous sons and summer plagues. And yet I will follow you, Scaler.’
Scaler swallowed as he watched the lantern light dance on the ebony features of the man in the chair.
‘Why? Why will you follow me?’
‘Because the thing must be done. And now I am going to tell you a great truth, and if you are wise you will take it to your heart. All men are stupid. They are full of fear and insecurity – it makes them weak. Always the other man seems stronger, more confident, more capable. It is a lie of the worst kind, for we lie to ourselves.