‘I don’t think I can come back tomorrow, Calvar. I will stay with Rek at the wall.’
‘I understand.’
‘I feel so helpless watching men die in here.’ She smiled. ‘I don’t like feeling helpless, I’m not used to it.’
He watched her from the doorway, her tall figure draped in a white cloak, the night breeze billowing her hair.
‘I feel helpless too,’ he said softly.
The last death had touched him more deeply than it should, but then he had known the man, whereas others were but nameless strangers.
Carin, the former miller. Calvar remembered that the man had a wife and son living at Delnoch.
‘Well, at least someone will mourn for you, Carin,’ he whispered to the stars.
25
Rek sat and watched the stars shining high above the Keep tower and the passage of an occasional cloud, black against the moonlit sky. The clouds were like cliffs in the sky, jagged and threatening, inexorable and sentient. Rek pulled his gaze from the window and rubbed his eyes. He had known fatigue before, but never this soul-numbing weariness, this depression of the spirit. The room was dark now. He had forgotten to light the candles, so intent had he been on the darkening sky. He glanced about him. So open and welcoming during the hours of daylight, the room was now shadow haunted and empty of life. He was an interloper. He drew his cloak about him.
His missed Virae, but she was working at the field hospital with the exhausted Calvar Syn. Nevertheless the need in him was great and he rose to go to her. Instead he just stood there. Cursing, he lit the candles. Logs lay ready in the fireplace, so he lit the fire – though it was not cold – and sat in the firm leather chair watching the small flames grow through the kindling and eat into the thicker logs above. The breeze fanned the flame, causing the shadows to dance, and Rek began to relax.
‘You fool,’ he said to himself as the flames roared and he began to sweat. He removed his cloak and boots and pulled the chair back from the blaze.
A soft tap at the door roused Rek from his thoughts. He called out and Serbitar entered the room. For a moment Rek did not recognise him; he was without his armour, dressed in a tunic of green, his long white hair tied at the nape of the neck.
‘Am I disturbing you, Rek?’ he said.
‘Not at all. Sit down and join me.’
‘Thank you. Are you cold?’
‘No. I just like to watch fires burn.’
‘I do too. It helps me to think. A primal memory perhaps, of a warm cave and safety from predatory animals?’ said Serbitar.
‘I wasn’t alive then – despite my haggard appearance.’
‘But you were. The atoms that make up your body are as old as the universe.’
‘I have not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, though I don’t doubt that it is all true,’ said Rek.
An uneasy silence developed, then both men spoke at once and Rek laughed. Serbitar smiled and shrugged.
‘I am unused to casual conversation. Unskilled.’
‘Most people are when it comes down to it. It’s an art,’ said Rek. ‘The thing to do is relax and enjoy the silences. That’s what friends are all about – they are people with whom you can be silent.’
‘Truly?’
‘My word of honour as an Earl.’
‘I am glad to see you retain your humour. I would have thought it impossible to do so under the circumstances.’
‘Adaptability, my dear Serbitar. You can only spend so long thinking about death – then it becomes boring. I have discovered that my great fear is not of dying but of being a bore.’
‘You are seldom boring, my friend.’
‘Seldom? “Never” is the word I was looking for.’
‘I beg your pardon. Never is the word which I was, of course, seeking.’
‘How will tomorrow be?’
‘I cannot say,’ answered Serbitar swiftly. ‘Where is the lady Virae?’
‘With Calvar Syn. Half of the civilian nurses have fled south.’
‘You cannot blame them,’ said Serbitar. He stood and walked to the window. ‘The stars are bright tonight,’ he said. ‘Though I suppose it would be more accurate to say that the angle of the earth makes visibility stronger.’