‘He has defiled me.’
‘No,’ said Vintar sternly, ‘he has defiled himself. It is important to understand that.’
‘Druss would be ashamed of me, for I did not fight.’
‘You fought, Rowena, in your own way. You gave him no pleasure. To have tried to resist would have increased his lust, and his satisfaction. As it was – and you know this to be true – he felt deflated and full of melancholy. And you know his fate.’
‘I don’t want any more deaths!’
‘We all die. You . . . me . . . Druss. The measure of us all is established by how we live.’
He had returned her to her body, taking care to instruct her in the ways of Spirit travel, and the routes by which she could return by herself in the future. ‘Will I see you again?’ she asked him.
‘It is possible,’ he answered.
Now, as she sat on the satin-covered bed, she wished she could speak with him again.
The door opened and a huge warrior entered. He was bald and heavily muscled. There were scars around his eyes and his nose was flattened against his face. He moved towards the bed but there was no threat, she knew. Silently he laid a gown of white silk upon the bed. ‘Collan has asked that you wear this for Kabuchek.’
‘Who is Kabuchek?’ she enquired.
‘A Ventrian merchant. If you do well he will buy you. It won’t be a bad life, girl. He has many palaces and treats his slaves with care.’
‘Why do you serve Collan?’ she asked.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I serve no one. Collan is a friend. I help him sometimes.’
‘You are a better man than he.’
‘That is as may be. But several years ago, when I was first champion, I was waylaid in an alley by supporters of the vanquished champion. They had swords and knives. Collan ran to my aid. We survived. I always pay my debts. Now put on the gown, and prepare your skill. You need to impress the Ventrian.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Collan will not be pleased and I don’t think you would like that. Trust me on this, lady. Do your best and you will be clear of this house.’
‘My husband is coming for me,’ she said softly. ‘When he does, he will kill any who have harmed me.’
‘Why tell me?’
‘Do not be here when he comes, Borcha.’
The giant shrugged. ‘The Fates will decide,’ he said.
*
Druss strolled across to the wharf buildings. They were old, a series of taverns created from derelict warehouses and there were recesses and alley entrances everywhere. Garishly dressed women lounged against the walls and ragged men sat close by, playing knucklebones or talking in small groups.
A woman approached him. ‘All the delights your mind can conjure for just a silver penny,’ she said wearily.
‘Thank you, but no,’ he told her.
‘I can get you opiates, if you desire them?’
‘No,’ he said, more sternly, and moved on. Three bearded men pushed themselves to their feet and walked in front of him. ‘A gift for the poor, my lord?’ asked the first.
Druss was about to reply when he glimpsed the man to his left edge his hand into the folds of a filthy shirt. He chuckled. ‘If that hand comes out with a knife in it – I’ll make you eat it, little man.’ The beggar froze.
‘You shouldn’t be coming here with threats,’ said the first man. ‘Not unarmed as you are. It’s not wise, my lord.’ Reaching behind his back, he drew a long-bladed dagger.
As the blade appeared Druss stepped forward and casually backhanded the man across the mouth. The robber cartwheeled to ‘the left, scattering a group of watching whores and colliding with a wall of brick. He moaned once, then lay still. Ignoring the other two beggars, Druss strode to the nearest tavern and stepped inside.
The interior was windowless and high-ceilinged, lit by lanterns which hung from the beams. The tavern smelt of burning oil and stale sweat. It was crowded, and Druss eased his way to a long trestle table on which several barrels of ale were set. And old man in a greasy apron approached him. ‘You don’t want to be drinking before the bouts begin; it’ll fill you with wind,’ he warned.