‘In what way?’ he said.
‘Originally Egel designed the gap between the walls to be a killing ground with no cover. It was uphill to the next wall, which would slow down the enemy. With enough bowmen you could have a massacre. It was good psychologically, too: by the time they came to take the next wall – if they ever did – they’d know there was more killing ground to come.’
‘So how did the town spoil it?’
‘It just grew. Now we have buildings all the way to wall six. The killing ground’s gone. Quite the opposite in fact – now there’s cover all the way.’
He rolled over and kissed her brow.
‘What was that for?’ she asked.
‘Does it have to be for something?’
‘There’s a reason for everything,’ she said.
He kissed her again. ‘That was for the Earl of Bronze,’ he said. ‘Or the coming of spring. Or a vanished snowflake.’
‘You don’t make any sense,’ she told him.
‘Why did you let me make love to you?’ he asked.
‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘Why?’
‘None of your damned business!’ she said.
He laughed and kissed her again. ‘Yes, my lady. Quite right. None of my business.’
‘You’re mocking me,’ she said, struggling to rise.
‘Nonsense,’ he said, holding her down. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘I’m not. I never have been. You are mocking me.’
‘I will never mock you. And you are beautiful. And the more I look at you, the more beautiful you are.’
‘You’re a fool. Let me up.’
He kissed her again, easing his body close to hers. The kiss lingered and she returned it.
Tell me about the Dros again,’ he said, at last.
‘I don’t want to talk about it now. You’re teasing me, Rek; I won’t have it. I don’t want to think about it tonight, not any more. Do you believe in fate?’
‘I do now. Almost.’
‘I’m serious. Yesterday, I didn’t mind about going home and facing the Nadir. I believed in the Drenai cause and I was willing to die for it. I wasn’t scared yesterday.’
‘And today?’ he asked.
‘Today, if you asked me, I wouldn’t go home.’ She was lying, but she didn’t know why. A surge of fear welled in her as Rek closed his eyes and leaned back.
‘Yes, you would,’ he said. ‘You have to.’
‘What about you?’
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ he said.
‘What doesn’t?’
‘I don’t believe in what I’m feeling. I never have. I am almost thirty years old and I know the world.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about fate. Destiny. An old man in tattered blue robes without any eyes. I’m talking about love.’
‘Love?’
He opened his eyes, reached out and stroked her face.
‘I can’t tell you what it meant to me when you stood beside me this morning. It was the highest point in my life. Nothing else mattered. I could see the sky – it was more blue than ever I’ve seen it. Everything was in sharp focus. I was more aware of living than I have ever been. Does that make any sense?’
‘No,’ she said gently. ‘Not really. Do you truly think I’m beautiful?’
‘You are the most beautiful woman who ever wore armour,’ he said, smiling.
‘That’s no answer. Why am I beautiful?’
‘Because I love you,’ he said, surprised at the ease with which he could say it.
‘Does that mean you’re coming with me to Dros Delnoch?’
‘Tell me about those lovely high walls again,’ he said.
5
The monastery grounds were split into training areas, some of stone, some of grass, others of sand or treacherous slime-covered slate. The abbey itself stood at the centre of the grounds, a converted keep of grey stone and crenellated battlements. Four walls and a moat surrounded the abbey, the walls a later and less war-like addition of soft, golden sandstone. By the western wall, sheltered by glass and blooming out of season were flowers of thirty different shades. All were roses.
The albino Serbitar knelt before his tree, his mind at one with the plant. He had struggled for thirteen years with the rose and understood it. There was empathy. There was harmony.