‘No, dear heart.’
‘I have great wealth, much of it invested in Loretheli and the islands. You would be like a queen there.’
‘Go, Pooris. The Daroth may even now be riding to intercept the convoys.’
Moving forward, he kissed her cheek, then turned and ran from the room.
Miriac heard him on the stairs, then returned her gaze to the long mirror on her dressing table. ‘You are a fool,’ she
told herself. Then she remembered the time with Tarantio, the warmth of his body upon hers.
She had thought of him every day since the curious events two years before, after the duel with Carlyn. The Duke had asked her to entertain his new champion, and she had done so to the best of her considerable abilities. It had been a wondrous night, and she had been surprised by the intensity of his virgin love-making. Then he had fled. No other word could describe it. The following morning she had tried to dismiss it from her mind, yet she could not. Investigations revealed that Tarantio had spurned the Duke’s offer to become champion and instead had enlisted as a mercenary. There was no sense to it. Why would any man turn down the promise of riches and comfort for a life of hardship and premature death?
For some time she continued to ask about him. Then she met the merchant Lunder, whom Tarantio paid to invest his hard-earned silver. Through Lunder she knew where Tarantio was, and what battles he had fought in. It was a tenuous link, but a link nonetheless.
When she had gone to him last night she had hoped to find him less fabulous than in her memories, so that she could finally be rid of the torment of thinking of him. Instead she found the experience enriching, and she still felt an inner glow as she recalled his tender touch.
‘I will not lose you again,’ she said.
In the three days that followed, the Daroth made one half-hearted attack on the eastern gate, but were driven back by the fireballs of two catapults. Meanwhile the endless tunnelling continued. Minute by minute, Daroth engineers could be seen leaving the mouth of the tunnel bearing sacks of rock which were loaded to wagons, then ferried away out of sight. They worked ceaselessly, and
always at the same pace. ‘They are like machines,’ said a soldier to Forin, as he and Karis observed the work. ‘Do they never rest or sleep?’
‘Apparently not,’ replied Forin. ‘But they die, boy. And more of them will die when they break through.’
‘It is said they don’t die,’ put in the soldier. ‘They go back to eggs or some such, and are born again.’
Forin did not reply. When Karis walked away, he followed her. ‘You are pensive today,’ he said, as they strolled along the avenue towards the palace.
‘I have much to think about.’
‘We will survive, Karis. I’m sure of that.’
‘It would be nice to be so sure.’
‘I don’t intend to fall before some whey-faced giant termite — not now I’ve found you.’
‘I hope that you don’t!’
‘You have a plan yet?’
‘If I tell you, then you will not be able to lead the fighting in the catacombs. Do you want me to tell you?’
He paused. ‘I would dearly like to say yes to that, but I cannot. Tarantio and Vint have their magical swords. I have my strength. It will be needed in the catacombs. Speaking of Tarantio, I haven’t seen him for days. Where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Karis. ‘He has failed to attend two meetings. I want him there tonight.’
‘I’ll fetch him myself,’ promised Forin. She made to walk on, but he gently took her arm. ‘When this is over, would you consider marrying me?’ he asked her.
‘You are certainly an optimist, Redbeard.’
‘Always. But especially now. You think I will allow the Daroth to steal my joy?’
Karis looked up into his broad, flat face and met the
intensity of his green gaze. ‘You are the strongest man I’ve known. Perhaps you can survive. Ask me again when the Daroth are defeated.’
He moved to kiss her but she stepped back, her eyes cold. ‘Not in the open, Forin.’