‘You are not wrong,’ agreed the other. ‘Let’s move.’
Ahead of them Druss was seated on the battlements talking to a small group of soldiers. He was telling a wonderfully embroidered tall story which Rek had heard before. The punch line evoked the desired effect and the night silence was broken by the sound of laughter.
Druss laughed heartily with the men, then noticed the newcomers. He turned and studied the tall man in the blue cape.
‘Well?’ he asked the soldier.
‘He was looking for you, captain, so I brought him along.’
‘To be more precise,’ said Rek, ‘he thought I might be an assassin. Hence the dagger behind me.’
Druss raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, are you an assassin?’
‘Not recently. Can we talk?’
‘We appear to be doing just that.’
‘Privately.’
‘You start talking and I will decide how private it is to be,’ said Druss.
‘My name is Regnak. I have just arrived with warriors from the Temple of The Thirty and Virae, the daughter of Delnar.’
‘We will talk privately,’ decided Druss. The men wandered away out of earshot.
‘So speak,’ said Druss, his cold grey eyes fixed on Rek’s face,
Rek seated himself on the battlement wall and stared out over the glowing valley.
‘A little on the large side, isn’t it?’
‘Scare you, does it?’
‘To the soles of my boots. However, you’re obviously in no mood to make this an easy meeting, so I will simply spell out my position. For better or worse, I am the Earl. I’m not a fool, nor yet a general – though often the two are synonymous. As yet I will make no changes. But bear this in mind . . . I will take a back seat to no man when decisions are needed.’
‘You think that bedding an Earl’s daughter gives you that right?’ asked Druss.
‘You know it does! But that’s not the point. I have fought before and my understanding of strategy is as sound as any here. Added to that I have The Thirty, and their knowledge is second to none. But even more important: if I have to die at this forsaken place it will not be as a bystander. I shall control my own fate.’
‘You seek to take a lot on yourself, laddie.’
‘No more than I can handle.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘No,’ said Rek frankly.
‘I didn’t think you did,’ said Druss with a grin.
‘What the hell made you come here?’
‘I think fate has a sense of humour.’
‘She always had in my day. But you look like a sensible young fellow. You should have taken the girl to Lentria and set up home there.’
‘Druss, nobody takes Virae anywhere she does not want to go. She has been reared on war and talk of war; she can cite all your legends and the facts behind every campaign you ever fought. She’s an Amazon – and this is where she wants to be.’
‘How did you meet?’
Rek told him about the ride from Drenan, through Skultik, the death of Reinard, the Temple of The Thirty, the shipboard wedding and the battle with the Sathuli. The old man listened to the straightforward story without comment.
‘. . . and here we are,’ concluded Rek.
‘So you’re baresark,’ said Druss.
‘I didn’t say that!’ retorted Rek.
‘But you did, laddie – by not saying it. It doesn’t matter. I have fought beside many such. I am only surprised the Sathuli let you go; they’re not known for being an honourable race.’
‘I think their leader – Joachim – is an exception. Listen, Druss, I would be obliged if you could keep quiet about the baresark side.’
Druss laughed. ‘Don’t be a fool boy! How long do you think it will stay a secret once the Nadir are on the walls? You stick by me and I will see that you don’t swat anyone from our side.’
‘That’s good of you – but I think you could be a little more hospitable. I’m as dry as a vulture’s armpit.’
‘There is no doubt,’ said Druss, ‘that talking works up more of a thirst than fighting. Come on, we will find Hogun and Orrin. This is the last night before the battle, so it calls for a party.’