‘Virae!’ he said softly. ‘Come back. Come back. Listen. I love you! You’re the one.’ He leaned over her, watching her face. A tear appeared there, then another . . . But they were his own. He lifted her head and cradled it in his arms. ‘Wait for me,’ he whispered. ‘I’m coming.’ He fumbled at his belt, pulling the Lentrian dagger from its sheath, and held it to his wrist.
‘Put it down, boy,’ said Druss from the doorway. ‘It would be meaningless.’
‘Get out!’ shouted Rek. ‘Leave me.’
‘She’s gone, lad. Cover her.’
‘Cover her? Cover my Virae! No! No, I can’t. Oh gods in Missael, I can’t just cover her face.’
‘I had to once,’ said the old man as Rek slumped forward, tears stinging his eyes and silent sobs racking his frame. ‘My woman died. You are not the only one to face death.’
For a long while Druss stood silently in the doorway, his heart aching. Then he pushed the door shut and walked into the room.
‘Leave her for a while and talk to me, boy,’ he said, taking Rek by the arm. ‘Here by the window. Tell me again how you met.’
And Rek told him of the attack in the forest, the killing of Reinard, the ride to the Temple and the journey to Delnoch.
‘Druss!’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t think I can live with this.’
‘I have known men who couldn’t. But there is no need to cut your wrists. There’s a horde of tribesmen out here who will do it for you gladly.’
‘I don’t care about them any more – they can have the damned place. I wish I had never come here.’
‘I know,’ said Druss, gently. ‘I spoke to Virae yesterday in the hospital. She told me she loved you. She said . . .’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Yes you do, because it’s a memory you can hold. And it keeps her alive in your mind. She said that if she died, it would be worth it just to have met you. She worshipped you, Rek. She told me of the day you stood by her against Reinard and all his men – she was so proud of you. I was too when I heard about it. You had something, boy, that few men ever possess.’
‘And now I’ve lost it.’
‘But you had it! That can never be taken away from you. Her only regret was she was never really able to tell you how she felt.’
‘Oh, she told me – it didn’t need words. What happened to you when your wife died? How did it feel?’
‘I don’t think I need to tell you. You know how I felt. And don’t think it’s any easier after thirty years. If anything, it becomes harder. Now, Serbitar is waiting to see you in the Hall. He says it’s important.’
‘Nothing is important any more. Druss, will you cover her face? I couldn’t bear to do it.’
‘Yes. Then you must see the albino. He has something for you.’
*
Serbitar was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Rek slowly descended to the main Hall. The albino wore full armour and helm topped with white horsehair. The visor was down, shielding his eyes. He looked, Rek thought, like a silver statue. Only his hands were bare and these were white as polished ivory.
‘You wanted me?’ said Rek.
‘Follow me,’ said Serbitar. Turning on his heel, he strode from the Hall towards the spiral stone stairwell leading to the dungeons below the Keep. Rek had been ready to refuse any request, but now he was forced to follow and his anger grew. The albino stopped at the top of the stairs and removed a flaming torch from a copper wall bracket.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Rek.
‘Follow me,’ repeated Serbitar.
Slowly and carefully the two men descended the cracked, worn steps until at last they reached the first level of dungeons. Long disused, the hallway glittered with water-sodden cobwebs and wet moss-covered arches. Serbitar moved on until they reached an oak door, a rust bolt holding it fast. He struggled with the bolt for some moments, finally working it free, then both men had to haul on the door before it creaked and groaned and opened. Another stairwell beyond yawned dark before them.