Gemmell, David – Drenai 06 – The First Chronicles of Druss the Legend

‘Frightened, are you, poet?’

‘Of course I’m frightened, you young fool! Fear is sensible. Never make the mistake of equating it with cowardice. But it is senseless to go after Collan; he is known here and has friends in very high places. Attack him and you will be arrested, tried and sentenced. Then there will be no one to rescue Rowena.’

Druss slumped down, his elbows resting on the warped table. ‘I hate sitting here doing nothing,’ he said.

‘Then let’s walk around the city for a while,’ offered Sieben. ‘We can gather some information. How much did you get for your horse?’

Twenty in silver.’

‘Almost fair. You did well. Come on, I’ll show you the sights.’ Druss stood and gathered his axe. ‘I don’t think you’ll need that,’ Sieben told him. ‘It’s one thing to wear a sword or carry a knife, but the City Watch will not take kindly to that monstrosity. In a crowded street you’re likely to cut off someone’s arm by mistake. Here, I’ll loan you one of my knives.’

‘I won’t need it,’ said Druss, leaving the axe on the table and striding out of the room.

Together they walked down into the main room of the inn, then out into the narrow street beyond.

Druss sniffed loudly. ‘This city stinks,’ he said.

‘Most cities do – at least in the poorest areas. No sewers. Refuse is thrown from windows. So walk warily.’

They moved towards the docks where several ships were being unloaded, bales of silk from Ventria and Naashan and other eastern nations, herbs and spices, dried fruit and barrels of wine. The dock was alive with activity.

‘I’ve never seen so many people in one place,’ said Druss.

‘It’s not even busy yet,’ Sieben pointed out. They strolled around the harbour wall, past temples and large municipal buildings, through a small park with a statue-lined walkway and a central fountain. Young couples were walking hand in hand and to the left an orator was addressing a small crowd. He was speaking of the essential selfishness of the pursuit of altruism. Sieben stopped to listen for a few minutes, then walked on.

‘Interesting, don’t you think?’ he asked his companion. ‘He was suggesting that good works are ultimately selfish because they make the man who undertakes them feel good. Therefore he has not been unselfish at all, but has merely acted for his own pleasure.’

Druss shook his head and glowered at the poet. ‘His mother should have told him the mouth is not for breaking wind with.’

‘I take it this is your subtle way of saying you disagree with his comments?’ snapped Sieben.

‘The man’s a fool.’

‘How would you set about proving that?’

‘I don’t need to prove it. If a man serves up a plate of cow dung, I don’t need to taste it to know it’s not steak.’

‘Explain it,’ Sieben urged him. ‘Share some of that vaunted frontier philosophy.’

‘No,’ said Druss, walking on.

‘Why not?’ asked Sieben, moving alongside him.

‘I am a woodsman. I know about trees. Once I worked in an orchard. Did you know you can take cuttings from any variety and graft them to another apple tree? One tree can have twenty varieties. It’s the same with pears. My father always said men were like that with knowledge. So much can be grafted on, but it must match what the heart feels. You can’t graft apple to pear. It’s a waste of time – and I don’t like wasting my time.’

‘You think I could not understand your arguments?’ asked Sieben with a sneering smile.

‘Some things you either know or you don’t. And I can’t graft that knowledge on to you. Back in the mountains I watched fanners plant tree lines across the fields; they did it because the winds can blow away the top-soil. But the trees would take a hundred years to form a real windbreak, so those farmers were building for the future, for others they will never know. They did it because it was right to do it – and not one of them would be able to debate with that pompous windbag back there. Or with you. Nor is it necessary that they should.’