Even if the stories were exaggerated, the truth came through like a searing flame. The Oltor had been wiped out, their race annihilated, their cities rendered to dust. No-one now knew for sure what the Oltor had looked
like, nor what kind of race they were. They had saved the Daroth, and in return the Daroth had destroyed them. There was not a great deal of hope to be found in such deeds.
A burning log fell to the hearth. A servant stepped forward swiftly, taking up a pair of brass tongs and lifting it back to the flames. Albreck glanced up. ‘Fetch the Chief Armourer,’ he told the man.
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And bring me the Red Book from my study.’
‘At once, my lord.’
Albreck sighed. All his life he had loved the arts: music, painting, poetry. But he also had a passion for history, and would have liked nothing better than to spend his days in study. Instead he had been born to this title, with all its concomitant burdens.
The servant returned within moments, carrying a large book bound with red leather. Albreck thanked him and opened it, scanning the pages which were filled with a neat, flowing script. Each page bore a date, and Albreck found the entry he was looking for. The Chief Armourer had introduced a Weapon Maker to him last summer. The man had designed a new siege engine, which he claimed would help Albreck win the war.
Albreck had long since decided the situation would be resolved – once men realized the true futility of the exercise of war – around a negotiating table, and had no desire to invest in new weapons of destruction. He recalled the Weapon Maker as a large man, brilliant of mind, with a pompous turn of phrase. The pomposity he could ignore, the brilliance was what was required.
The Chief Armourer arrived, breathless and red from
running. Albreck thanked him for arriving so swiftly, and asked him if the Weapon Maker was still resident in Corduin.
‘Indeed he is, my lord. He is currently working on a new sabre for the swordsman, Vint.’
‘I would like to see him. Bring him to my apartments this evening.’
‘Yes, my lord. Are we then to build the new siege-engines?’
The Duke ignored him and returned to his reading. He did not see the man bow, nor hear the door click shut behind him.
Karis was given a suite of apartments on the first floor of the palace. At her command, servants prepared a perfumed bath for her; then she dismissed them. Vint arrived soon after, just as Karis was undressing.
‘May I join you?’ he asked.
‘Why not?’ she answered, lowering her lean frame into the water. Vint chuckled, then doffed his boots, leggings and shirt.
‘By Heaven, Karis, you are still the most desirable woman I’ve ever known.’
‘Beautiful sounds better,’ she admonished him.
He paused and stared at her critically. ‘Well. .. you’re not a great beauty, my dove. Your nose is too long, and your features too sharp. Also – to be frank – you are a little too lean. However, that said, I never knew a better bed partner.’
‘How coy,’ she said, with a smile. ‘As I recall, we have not yet rutted in a bed. The back of a wagon, the bank of a river, and … oh yes, the hay-loft of a barn. No bed that I can recall.’
‘Nakedness and pedantry do not go together,’ he said,
sliding into the water beside her. ‘And now it is your turn to compliment me.’
Reaching out, she stroked the skin of his shaved temples. ‘I preferred it when it was long and braided,’ she told him.
‘One has to remain in style, Karis. It shows the populace where true wealth lies. Now play the game and offer me a compliment.’
‘You are among the top fifty lovers I have known.’
His laughter pealed out. ‘Ah, but I have missed you, lady. You help to remind me that I am – despite my talents – merely mortal. But you do not fool me. I am in the top ten.’
‘Arrogant man,’ she said, allowing him to move closer to her.