‘She wants to know why the queen is in pain,’ said Conalin.
‘Well,’ began Kebra, uneasily, ‘she’s . .. slim in the hips and -‘ Sufia’s bright blue eyes were locked to Kebra’s gaze. ‘- and …’ He swung and called for Nogusta. The child has some questions,’ he said, brightly.
‘Answer them,’ said Nogusta, walking away towards the stream.
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Thank you so much,’ Kebra called after him. He turned back to Sufia. ‘I can’t really explain,’ he told the child. ‘Childbirth is sometimes painful, but soon the queen will be well, and you will be able to see the baby boy. That will be nice, won’t it?’
The queen shrieked once more, and Sufia dissolved into tears.
Kebra moved away and began to prepare breakfast. Sitting beside the stream Nogusta and Dagorian talked in low voices. ‘Does Bison know what he’s doing?’ asked the young officer.
‘Yes. Believe it or not many of the camp whores request Bison when they are ready to deliver.’
‘I can’t think why.’
‘Maybe he fathered most of the children,’ ventured Nogusta. ‘But I believe she is in safe hands.’
‘Safe hands? How safe are any of us?’
Nogusta heard the fear in the young man’s voice. He was concerned, for he had noticed the growing tension in the officer ever since the wolf attack. ‘Nothing has changed since you rescued the queen,’ he said.
‘I didn’t rescue her – Ulmenetha did that. And the children. I just came later. And we would all have been killed had you not arrived to kill the lancers. I don’t feel that I have been of any real use.’ Dagorian sighed. ‘I am not like you, Nogusta. Nor the others. You are tough men. The stuff of heroes. I. . .’ he faltered. ‘I am just a failed priest.’
‘You do yourself a disservice,’ said Nogusta. Dagorian shook his head.
‘You remember when you warned me about an attempt on Banelion’s life? I went to him, as I told you.’ ‘Yes. He advised you to stay away from him. That was good advice.’
‘Maybe it was – but a hero would have disobeyed him. Don’t you see? I was glad to be relieved of responsibility. I thanked him and I left. Would you have done so?’
‘Yes,’ said Nogusta.
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I wouldn’t lie to you, Dagorian.’
‘But would you have felt relief?’
‘You are torturing yourself unnecessarily,’ said the black man. ‘What is really at the heart of this?’
‘I am afraid.’ He looked into Nogusta’s face. ‘What is it that you have seen? I need to know.’
‘You do not need to know,’ Nogusta assured him. ‘And it would serve no purpose to tell you. This gift I have is like a sharp sword. It can save a life, or it can take it. At this moment you and I are alive, and we have a mission. All we can do is try to stay alive. What I have seen, or not seen, is irrelevant.’
‘That is simply not true,’ said Dagorian. ‘The future is not set in stone. You could, for example, have seen me walking on a particular cliff top. The ground gives way and I fall to my death. But if you warn me I will not walk on that cliff top. Then I will live.’
Nogusta shook his head. ‘I told you once before that the gift is not that precise. I do not choose what to see.’
‘I just want to know whether I will survive,’ said Dagorian. ‘Have you seen that, at least?’
‘Ultimately no-one survives,’ hissed Nogusta. ‘That is the way of life. We are born, we live, we die. All that counts is the manner in which we live. And even that does not count for long. History will forget us. It forgets all men eventually. You want certainty? That is certainty.’
‘I fear I may be a coward,’ said Dagorian. ‘I might run from this mission.’
‘You will not run,’ said Nogusta. ‘You are a man of
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courage and honour. I know you are afraid. So you should be – for so am I. Our enemies are great in number, and our friends are few. Yet we will do what we must, for we are men, and the sons of men.’