‘Anything happening?’ asked Vint.
‘No. A whole group of them, maybe two hundred, have been sitting in a circle for the last couple of hours. Where’s Karis?’
‘Resting, apparently.’ Tarantio caught the edge in Vint’s tone and said nothing. ‘Where next, do you think?’ asked Vint. ‘The east gate?’
‘I have no idea. They are shocked, that’s for sure.’
Vint glanced back to where the Daroth bodies had been dragged earlier. All that remained was what appeared to be a huge pile of white sacks and oddments of armour and weapons. ‘What happened to the Daroth dead?’ he asked.
‘That’s them,’ said Tarantio. ‘The bodies just shrivelled away. The stench was dreadful for a while. I saw a snake shed its skin one time; it was something like that.’
‘It was the same at the miracle forest,’ Vint told him. ‘They really decompose fast, don’t they?’
‘If that is what is happening,’ said Tarantio. ‘That farmer who was taken by them . . . Barin. He said they were immortal – reborn every ten years. Maybe there’s a new body for them back in their city.’
‘What a loathsome thought.’
The bearded soldier who had spoken to Vint just before the attack walked up the rampart steps. He was weaving slightly, and holding a jug in his hands. ‘What a day!’ he said, slumping down beside the two men. ‘What an incredible day! Did you know the whores are not accepting money today? Everything’s free: women, drink, food. What a day!’ The man lay down on the stone and, using the empty jug for a pillow, fell asleep.
‘Let’s hope he has the same sentiments tomorrow,’ said Tarantio. ‘People are treating this as a great victory, when in fact it is only the starting skirmish.’
Brune ran up the steps, tripped at the top, recovered his balance and then moved alongside Tarantio, handing him a package wrapped in muslin. Tarantio opened it to find fresh bread, salted beef and a pottery jar containing butter. ‘It’s amazing back there,’ said Brune. ‘Everyone’s so happy. A woman kissed me!’
‘She must have been drunk,’ teased Tarantio.
‘Yes, she was,’ admitted Brune. ‘It was still nice, though.’
‘How is the eye?’ asked Vint.
The sandy-haired youngster gave a shrug. ‘It’s not as good as it was when it went gold. But it’s all right.’
‘You can shoot straight now?’
‘I don’t know. Haven’t tried.’
‘Brune has decided that war is evil, and he will have no part in killing,’ put in Tarantio. ‘Isn’t that right, Brune?’
‘Yes. I don’t want to kill nobody.’
‘Putting aside the double negative for a moment,’ said Vint, ‘I think that is a laudable point of view. But what do you do when a Daroth warrior is about to behead you with a large sword? Do you just die – or do you fight?’
‘I’ll die, I reckon,’ said Brune.
‘Could you offer some validation for this philosophy?’
‘What did he say?’ Brune asked Tarantio.
‘I think he wants to know why you have decided not to fight.’
‘Oh. It was the Oltor. I can’t explain it, but when he was . . . you know, part of me, I could feel what he was thinking. What he was feeling. And it was good, you know? It was . . .’ he paused ‘. . . right. Yes, that’s it. It was right. You understand?’
‘Not a word,’ admitted Vint. ‘You think it would be better to be dead than to fight for your life?’
‘Yes, I think so. That’s what the Oltor done.’
‘And they were wiped out.’
‘Yes, but they’re back now.’
‘What is he talking about?’ Vint asked Tarantio.
‘It is a long story.’
Vint was about to question him further when movement began in the Daroth camp. Hundreds of Daroth warriors moved to the lower hillside and began to dig while others could be seen returning from the woods carrying the trunks of felled trees. Within minutes the area was the scene of frenzied activity. The diggers soon disappeared from sight, but the watching men could see earth being thrown up from the pit. The Daroth brought up empty wagons, which they filled with earth; these were then