‘Don’t try to steal his oatcakes,’ warned Karis.
Necklen laughed aloud. ‘He makes them himself, you know. They are damn good. He let me have one from a fresh batch. Just the one, mind!’
Karis lay back. ‘How long before the dawn?’
‘Another couple of hours.’
‘I’ll sleep,’ she said. ‘Will you wake me at dawn?’
‘I’ll be here.’ Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. He kissed her fingers, then covered her with a blanket. ‘May your dreams be sweet,’ he said. ‘And don’t forget to say your prayers.’
‘Thank you, mother,’ she said, with a smile. He blew out the candle and walked back into the main room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
Duke Albreck was tired, his eyes bloodshot and gritty. Pushing away the mass of papers before him he rose, opened the door to the gardens and stepped through into the moonlight. The fresh cold air revitalized him and he shivered with pleasure. A servant announced the arrival of the soldier, Necklen, and the Duke returned to the warmth of his rooms. The old soldier looked wary.
‘How is she?’ asked Albreck.
‘Very well, sir. She is resting,’
Albreck had never known how to communicate with ordinary people. It was as if their minds worked at a different level; they were rarely at their ease with him, nor he with them. ‘Sit you down, man,’ he said. ‘I see your wound is bleeding again. I shall send my surgeon to you.’
‘It’s stopped now, sir. Scar tissue broke, is all.’
‘You are a brave man,’ said Albreck. ‘Karis tells me you have served her before, and know her well.’
‘Can’t say as I know her that well,’ answered Necklen, guardedly. ‘She’s good, though. The best there is.’
‘I think that is a fair estimate,’ agreed the Duke. ‘However, the pressures here are very great. The burdens are onerous. Sometimes even the best find such situations … intolerable. There are many stories about Karis. She has become something of a legend during these last few years. One man told me she once danced naked through a town, following a victory. Is it true?’
‘There’s always lots of stories about generals,’ said Necklen. ‘Might I ask where this is leading?’
‘Oh, I think you know where it is leading,’ said Albreck.
‘This is my city, my responsibility. It is threatened with death and destruction, by an enemy more powerful and more evil than any it has faced in its long history. I have no right to ask you for honesty, Necklen. You are not sworn to me. But I would value it, nonetheless. Karis is a great fighter, and a fine tactician. She has courage, I don’t doubt that. But is she steady? For that’s what we need.’
Necklen sat silently for a moment, staring into the fire. ‘I am not a skilled liar, my lord – never felt the need to acquire the skills – so I’ll tell you plain. Karis isn’t like anyone I’ve ever known. She’s a mass of opposites, tough and tender, caring and callous. And she has a love of wine – ay, and men. She pushes herself too hard sometimes, and then she drinks. Too much, usually.’ Necklen shrugged. ‘Despite that there is a greatness in her. That will carry her through, don’t you worry none about that. When the Daroth are before the walls, you’ll see that greatness shine. I promise you that.’
The Duke smiled thinly. ‘I hope that you are right. I am a capable swordsman, but I was never a soldier. Nor did I wish to be one. My skill lies in judging men. Women, I am glad to say, remain a mystery to me.’
‘A wondrous mystery,’ said Necklen, with a grin.
‘Quite so.’ In that one, small moment, there was a flicker of camaraderie. The Duke felt it, and drew back.
Necklen sensed the change of mood and rose from his chair. ‘If that is all, my lord?’
‘Yes. Yes, thank you. Stay close to her. See that she doesn’t… push herself too hard.’
‘I’ll do my best, sir.’ As he left, the Duke leaned forward, lifting a sheaf of papers, and returned to his reading.