‘You said that half a year ago,’ Shabag pointed out.
‘And I was correct then. It is like a lion hunt, cousin. While he is in the dense undergrowth he has a chance, but once you have him on open ground, heading into the mountains, it is only a matter of time before he runs out of strength. Gorben is running out of strength and gold.’
‘He still has three armies.’
‘He began with seven. Two of them are now under my command. One is under yours, and one has been destroyed. Come, cousin, why the gloom?’
Shabag shrugged. ‘I want to see an end to the war, so I can begin to rebuild.’
‘I? Surely you mean we?
‘A slip of the tongue, cousin,’ said Shabag swiftly, forcing a smile. Darishan leaned back on the marble seat and idly twisted one of his braids. Though not yet forty his hair was startlingly pale, silver and white, and braided with wires of gold and copper.
‘Do not betray me, Shabag,’ he warned. ‘You will not be able to defeat the Naashanites alone.’
‘A ridiculous thought, Darishan. We are of the same blood – and we are friends.’
Darishan’s cold eyes held to Shabag’s gaze, then he too smiled. ‘Yes,’ he whispered, ‘friends and cousins. I wonder where our cousin – and former friend – Gorben is hiding today.’
Shabag reddened. ‘He was never my friend. I do not betray my friends. Such thoughts are unworthy of you.’
‘Indeed, you are right,’ agreed Darishan, rising. ‘I must leave for Ectanis. Shall we have a small wager as to which of us conquers first?’
‘Why not? A thousand in gold that Capalis falls before Ectanis.’
‘A thousand – plus the Datian slave girl?’
‘Agreed,’ said Shabag, masking his irritation. ‘Take care, cousin.’ The men shook hands.
‘I shall.’ The silver-haired Darishan swung away, then glanced back over his shoulder. ‘By the way, did you see the wench?’
‘Yes, but she told me little of use. I think Kabuchek was swindled.’
‘That may be true, but she saved him from the sharks and predicted a ship would come. She also told me where to find the opal brooch I lost three years ago. What did she tell you?’
Shabag shrugged. ‘She talked of my past, which was interesting, but then she could easily have been schooled by Kabuchek. When I asked her about the coming campaign she closed her eyes and took hold of my hand. She held it for maybe three heartbeats, then pulled away and said she could tell me nothing.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘Nothing that made any sense. She said . . . “He is coming!” She seemed both elated and yet, moments later, terrified. Then she told me not to go to Capalis. That was it.’
Darishan nodded and seemed about to speak. Instead he merely smiled and walked away.
Putting thoughts of Darishan from his mind, Shabag moved to the tent entrance. The camp was quiet. Slowly he removed the glove from his left hand. The skin itched, red open sores covering the surface as they had done since adolescence. There were herbal ointments and emollients that could ease them, but nothing had ever healed the diseased skin, nor fully removed the other sores that stretched across his back and chest, thighs and calves.
Slowly he peeled back the right-hand glove. The skin here was clean and smooth. This was the hand she had held.
He had offered Kabuchek sixty thousand gold pieces for her, but the merchant had politely refused. When the battle is over, thought Shabag, I shall have her taken from him.
Just as he was about to turn into the tent Shabag saw a line of soldiers marching slowly down towards the camp, their armour gleaming in the moonlight. They were moving in columns of twos, with an officer at the head; the man looked familiar, but he was wearing a plumed helm with a thick nasal guard that bisected his face. Shabag rubbed at his tired eyes to focus more clearly on the man; it was not the face but the walk that aroused his interest. One of Darishan’s officers, he wondered? Where have I seen him before?