‘I don’t wish to be pedantic,’ said Hogun, ‘but do you not mean we have a battle on our hands?’
Bowman glanced at Druss. ‘Have you not told them, old horse? No? Ah, what a deliriously embarrassing moment, to be sure.’
Told us what?’ asked Orrin.
‘That they are mercenaries,’ said Druss, uneasily. ‘They stay only until the fall of Wall Three. It has been agreed.’
‘And for this . . . this pitiful aid they expect pardons!’ shouted Orrin, rising to his feet. ‘I will see them swing first.’
‘After Wall Three we will have less need of archers,’ said Hogun calmly. ‘There is no killing ground.’
‘We need archers, Orrin,’ said Druss. ‘We need them badly. And this man has 600 of the finest. We know walls will fall, and we will need every shaft. The postern gates will be sealed by then. I don’t like this situation either, but needs must . . . Better to have cover for the first three walls than to have none at all. Do you agree?’
‘And if I don’t?’ said the Gan, still angry.
‘Then I shall send them away,’ said Druss. Hogun began an angry outburst, but was silenced by a wave of Druss’s hand. ‘You are the Gan, Orrin. It is your decision.’
Orrin sat down, breathing deeply. He had made many mistakes before Druss arrived – he knew that now. This situation angered him deeply, but he had no choice but to back the axeman and Druss knew it too. The two men exchanged glances and smiled.
‘They shall stay,’ said Orrin.
‘A wise decision,’ said Bowman. ‘How soon will the Nadir arrive, do you think?’
‘Too damned soon,’ muttered Druss. ‘Some time within the next three weeks, according to our scouts. Ulric lost a son, which has given us a few more days. But it’s still not enough.’
For some time the men discussed the many problems facing the defenders. Finally Bowman spoke, this time hesitantly.
‘Look here, Druss, there is something I feel I should mention, but I don’t want to be thought . . . strange. I’ve been toying with the idea of not mentioning it, but . . .’
‘Speak on, laddie. You’re among friends . . . mostly.’
‘I had a strange dream last night and you appeared in it. I would have dismissed it – but seeing you today made me think again. I dreamed I was woken from a deep sleep by a warrior in silver armour. I could see right through him, as if he was a ghost. He told me that he had been trying to contact you, but without success. When he spoke it was like a voice in my mind. He said that his name was Serbitar and that he was travelling with his friends and a woman called Virae.
‘He said it was important for me to tell you to collect inflammables and containers, since Ulric has built great siege towers. He also suggested fire gullies across the spaces between walls. In my mind he showed me a vision of you being attacked. He told me a name: Musar.
‘Does any of it make any sense?’
For a moment no one spoke, although Druss seemed hugely relieved.
‘Indeed it does, laddie. Indeed it does!’
Hogun poured a fresh glass of Lentrian and passed it to Bowman.
‘What did this warrior look like?’ he asked.
‘Tall, slender. I think his hair was white, though he was young.’
‘It is Serbitar,’ said Hogun. ‘The vision is a true one.’
‘You know him?’ asked Druss.
‘Of him only. He is the son of Earl Drada of Dros Segril. It is said that the boy was fey and had a demon; he could read men’s thoughts. He is an albino, and as you know the Vagrians consider this an ill omen. He was sent to the Temple of The Thirty, south of Drenan, when he was about thirteen. It is also said that his father tried to smother him when he was a babe, but that the child sensed him coming and hid outside his bedroom window. These, of course, are but stories.’
‘Well, his talents have grown, it seems,’ said Druss, ‘But I don’t give a damn. He’ll be useful here -especially if he can read Ulric’s mind.’