Another flagon of wine arrived. Druss filled his goblet and offered the wine to Varsava, who declined. ‘My head is already beginning to spin, my friend. You must have hollow legs.’
‘How many men do you have?’ asked Druss.
‘None. I work alone.’
‘And you know where the boy is?’
‘Yes. Deep in the mountains there is a fortress called Valia, a place for thieves, murderers, outlaws and renegades. It is ruled by Cajivak – you have heard of him?’ Druss shook his head. ‘The man is a monster in every respect. Bigger than you, and terrifying in battle. He is also an axeman. And he is insane.’
Druss drank the wine, belched and leaned forward. ‘Many fine warriors are considered mad.’
‘I know that – but Cajivak is different. During the last year he has led raids which have seen mindless slaughter that you would not believe. He has his victims impaled on spikes, or skinned alive. I met a man who served him for almost five years; that’s how I found out where the boy was. He said Cajivak sometimes speaks with a different voice, low and chilling, and that when he does so his eyes gleam with a strange light. And always – when such madness is upon him – he kills. It could be a servant or a tavern wench, or a man who looks up just as Cajivak’s eyes meet his. No, Druss, we are dealing with madness . . . or possession.’
‘How do you intend to rescue the boy?’
Varsava spread his hands. ‘I was contemplating that when you arrived. As yet, I have no answers.’
‘I will help you,’ said Druss.
Varsava’s eyes narrowed. ‘For how much?’
‘You can keep the money.’
Then why?’ asked the bladesman, mystified.
But Druss merely smiled and refilled his goblet.
*
Druss found Varsava an agreeable companion. The tall bladesman said little as they journeyed through the mountains and up into the high valleys far above the plain on which Lania sat. Both men carried packs, and Varsava wore a wide-brimmed brown leather hat with an eagle feather tucked into the brim. The hat was old and battered, the feather ragged and without sheen. Druss had laughed when first he saw it, for Varsava was a handsome man – his clothes immaculately styled from fine green wool, his boots of soft lambskin. ‘Did you lose a wager?’ asked Druss.
‘A wager?’ queried Varsava.
‘Aye. Why else would a man wear such a hat?’
‘Ah!’ said the bladesman. ‘I imagine that is what passes as humour among you barbarians. I’ll have you know that this hat belonged to my father.’ He grinned. ‘It is a magic hat and it has saved my life more than once.’
‘I thought Ventrians never lied,’ said Druss.
‘Only noblemen,’ Varsava pointed out. ‘However, on this occasion I am telling the truth. The hat helped me escape from a dungeon.’ He removed it and tossed it to Druss. ‘Take a look under the inside band.’
Druss did so and saw that a thin-saw blade nestled on the right side, while on the left was a curved steel pin. At the front he felt three coins and slipped one clear; it was gold. ‘I take it all back,’ said Druss. ‘It is a fine hat!’
The air was fresh and cool here and Druss felt free. It had been almost four years since he had left Sieben in Ectanis and journeyed alone to the occupied city of Resha, searching for the merchant Kabuchek and, through him, Rowena. He had found the house, only to discover that Kabuchek had left a month before to visit friends in the lands of Naashan. He had followed to the Naashanite city of Pieropolis, and there lost all traces of the merchant.
Back once more in Resha, he discovered that Kabuchek had sold his palace and his whereabouts were unknown. Out of money and supplies, Druss took employment with a builder in the capital who had been commissioned to rebuild the shattered walls of the city. For four months he laboured every day until he had enough gold to head back to the south.
In the five years since the victories at Capalis and Ectanis the Ventrian Emperor, Gorben, had fought eight major battles against the Naashanites and their Ventrian allies. The first two had been won decisively, the last also. But the others had been fought to stalemate, with both sides suffering huge losses. Five years of bloody warfare and neither side, as yet, could claim they were close to victory.