‘Then why come with us? What will you gain from it?’
‘We die,’ said Serbitar, ‘and then live. But I shall say no more of that at this time. I do not wish to depress you, Rek. If it would serve a purpose, I would fill you with hope. But my whole battle strategy will be built around delaying the inevitable. Only then can I function – and serve your cause.’
‘I hope you will keep that opinion to yourself,’ said Rek. ‘Virae believes we can hold. I know enough of warfare and morale to tell you plainly that if your theory were to spread among the men, there would be wholesale desertions; we would lose on the first day.’
‘I am not a fool, Rek. I say this to you because it needs to be said. I shall be your advisor at Delnoch and you will need me to speak the truth. I shall have no real dealings with the soldiers, neither will The Thirty. Men will avoid us anyway, once they know what we are.’
‘Perhaps. Why do you say you will be my advisor? Earl Delnar commands; I shall not even be an officer there.’
‘Let us say,’ said Serbitar, ‘that I will be the adviser to your cause. Time will explain all far better than I. Have I depressed you?’
‘Not at all. You have told me everything is hopeless, that we are all dead men and the Drenai are finished. Depressed? Not at all!’
Serbitar laughed and clapped his hands. ‘I like you, Rek,’ he said. ‘I think you will hold firm.’
‘I will hold firm all right,’ said Rek, smiling. ‘Because I will know that at the last wall I will have two horses waiting ready saddled. By the way, do you not have anything stronger than water to drink?’
‘Sadly, no,’ answered Serbitar. ‘Alcohol inhibits our strength. If you need spirits, however, there is a village nearby and I can have someone ride out for you to purchase some.’
‘You don’t drink. There are no women. You eat no meat. What do you do for recreation?’
‘We study,’ said Serbitar. ‘And we train, and we plant flowers and raise horses. Our time is well occupied, I can assure you.’
‘No wonder you want to go away and die somewhere,’ said Rek, with feeling.
*
Virae sat with Vintar in a small sparsely furnished study, awash with manuscripts and leather-bound tomes. There was a small desk littered with broken quills and scrawled parchment. She held back a smile as the older man rumbled with his breastplate strap. He could not have looked less a warrior.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked, standing up and leaning over the desk.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said. ‘It weighs heavily.’
He balanced the armour against the desk and poured himself some water, offering the jug to Virae who shook his head. ‘I’m sorry the room is such a mess, but I have been hurrying to finish my diary. So much to say, so little time.’
‘Bring it with you,’ she said.
‘I think not. Too many other problems to wrestle with once we are under way. You have changed since I saw you last, Virae.’
‘Two years is a long time, Abbot,’ she said, carefully.
‘I think it is the young man with you,’ he said, smiling. ‘He has a great influence.’
‘Nonsense. I am the same.’
‘Your walk is more assured. You are less clumsy than I remember. He has given you something, I think.’
‘Never mind that. What about the Dros?’ she snapped, blushing.
‘I am sorry, my dear. I did not wish to embarrass you.’
‘You have not embarrassed me,’ she lied. ‘Now, about Dros Delnoch. How can you help us?’
‘As I told your father two years ago, our help will be in organisation and planning. We will know the enemy’s plans. We can aid you in thwarting them. Tactically we can organise the defences and militarily we can fight like a hundred. But our price is high.’
‘My father has deposited 10,000 gold Raq in Ven-tria,’ she said. ‘With the merchant Asbidare.’
‘Good. Then that is settled. We ride in the morning.’
‘May I ask you something?’ said Virae. He opened his hands and waited. ‘Why do you need money?’