‘Why tell me this?’
‘I don’t know. To share, perhaps? Is there some secret to your courage? Is there something I can do to bolster my own?’
‘Nothing that I know of, Pooris. If trouble comes, stay close to me. Follow my lead. No hesitation.’ She looked at him and smiled. ‘Bear this in mind also, councillor -not many cowards would volunteer for a mission such as this.’
‘Are you frightened, Karis?’
‘Of course. We are all riding into the unknown.’
‘But you think we will survive?’
She shrugged. ‘I hope that we will.’
‘I have often wondered what constitutes heroism,’ he said. ‘Tarantio and Vint are sword-killers. Most people would call them heroes. But does heroism come naturally to swordsmen?’
Karis shook her head. ‘Heroes are people who face down their fears. It is that simple. A child afraid of the dark who one day blows out the candle; a woman terrified of the pain of childbirth who says, “It is time to
become a mother.” Heroism does not always live on the battlefield, Pooris.’
The little councillor smiled. ‘Thank you, lady,’ he said.
‘For what?’
‘For listening to my fears.’ He rose and walked away through the trees and Karis returned to studying the map. While the Duke’s men searched for Forin she had spent her time in the library, reading everything she could find about the Daroth. It wasn’t much. She had widened the scope, investigating stories – myths mainly — of a race of giant warriors said to have inhabited the north country. Perhaps these tales were also of the Daroth.
None of the research material she had found had supplied a clue as to what action she should take when they approached the Daroth city. Pooris had suggested riding with a flag of truce. Why should the Daroth recognize this convention? she had asked him.
Forin – who, as Tarantio had told her, knew many stories of the Daroth – had only one suggestion. ‘Take salt as a gift,’ he said. ‘According to my father, who heard it from the Eldarin, the Daroth adore the taste. It works on their system like wine does with us.’
Karis had taken heed. But in order to offer salt to the Daroth, they must first agree to speak. They had not spoken with Capel’s men, but had attacked swiftly and without mercy.
Pooris returned from the woods and began to neatly fold and roll his blanket. Forin awoke, belched loudly and sat up. He yawned and stretched; rising, he thrust his hand down the front of his leather leggings and scratched at his genitals. Then he saw Karis, and gave a sheepish grin. ‘I like to check that the old soldier is still alive,’ he said. Then he too strolled from the camp. He did not go as
far as Pooris had done, and Karis could hear him noisily urinating against a nearby tree-trunk.
Pooris reddened, but Karis merely chuckled. ‘Do not be embarrassed, councillor,’ she advised him. ‘You are not among the nobility now.’
‘I rather guessed that,’ he said.
Tarantio and Brune joined her, then Goran and Vint. They breakfasted on oats they had found in an abandoned village. Goran and Vint sweetened theirs with honey; Tarantio ate his with salt; Pooris was not hungry. And Forin refused the oats, chewing instead upon his ration of dried meat. Brune ate his portion, scraping the last of the porridge from the bowl with his fingers.
‘I think we will see the Daroth today,’ said Vint. ‘They must have outriders. Have you come up with a plan yet, Karis?’
Ignoring the question, she finished her meal, then cleaned her plate upon the grass. ‘When we do see them, not one of you must draw a weapon,’ she said at last. ‘You will sit quietly while I ride forward.’
‘And if they attack?’ asked Pooris.
‘We scatter and meet again here.’
‘It has the merits of simplicity,’ observed Vint. Drawing his knife, he began to scrape away the bristles on his cheeks and chin.
‘Why bother to shave?’ asked the red-bearded Forin.
‘One must observe certain standards,’ pointed out Vint, with a self-mocking grin. ‘And naturally,’ he continued, ‘I want the Daroth to see me in the full bloom of my beauty. They will be so over-awed they will immediately surrender to us and swear fealty!’