The Nadir dismounted in the shadow of the great gates and waited. They did not speak. From their pack-saddles they took dried meat and water sacks and sat together, eating and waiting.
By the time Druss arrived with Orrin and Hogun they had completed their meal. Druss bellowed down from the battlements.
‘What is your message?’
‘Open the gates!’ called back the Nadir officer, a short barrel-chested man, bow-legged and powerful.
‘Are you the Deathwalker?’ called the man.
‘Yes.’
‘You are old and fat. It pleases me.’
‘Good! Remember that when next we meet, for I have marked you, Loudmouth, and my axe knows the name of your spirit. Now, what is your message?’
“The Lord Ulric, Prince of the North, bids me to tell you that he will be riding to Drenan to discuss an alliance with Abalayn, Lord of the Drenai. He wishes it known that he expects the gates of Dros Delnoch to be open to him; that being so, he guarantees there will be no harm to any man, woman, or child, soldier or otherwise within the city. It is the Lord Ulric’s wish that the Drenai and the Nadir become as one nation. He offers the gift of friendship.’
‘Tell the Lord Ulric,’ said Druss, ‘that he is welcome to ride to Drenan at any time. We will even allow an escort of 100 warriors, as befits a prince of the north.’
‘The Lord Ulric allows no conditions,’ said the officer.
‘These are my conditions – they shall not change,’ said Druss.
‘Then I have a second message. Should the walls be contested and the gates closed, the Lord Ulric wishes it known that every second defender taken alive will be slain, that all the women will be sold into slavery and that one in three of all citizens will lose his right hand.’
‘Before that can happen, laddie, the Lord Ulric has to take the Dros. Now you give him this message from Druss the Deathwalker: In the north the mountains may tremble as he breaks wind, but this is Drenai land, and as far as I am concerned he is a pot-bellied savage who couldn’t pick his own nose without a Drenai map.
‘Do you think you can remember that, laddie. Or shall I carve it on your arse in large letters?’
‘Inspiring as your words were, Druss,’ said Orrin, ‘I must tell you that my stomach turned over as you spoke them. Ulric will be furious.’
‘Would that he were,’ said Druss bitterly, as the Nadir troop galloped back to the north. ‘If that were the case, he would truly be just a pot-bellied savage. No! He will laugh . . . loud and long.’
‘Why should he?’ asked Hogun.’
‘Because he has no choice. He has been insulted and should lose face. When he laughs, the men will laugh with him.’
‘It was a pretty offer he made,’ said Orrin, as the three men made the long walk back to the Keep. ‘Word will spread. Talks with Abalayn . . . One empire of Drenai and Nadir . . . Clever!’
‘Clever and true,’ said Hogun. ‘We know from his record that he means it. If we surrender, he will march through and harm no one. Threats of death can be taken and resisted – offers of life are horses of a different colour. I wonder how long it will be before the burghers demand another audience.’
‘Before dusk,’ predicted Druss.
Back on the walls, Gilad and Bregan watched the dust from the Nadir horsemen dwindle into the distance.
‘What did he mean, Gil, about riding to Drenan for discussions with Abalayn?’
‘He meant he wants us to let his army through.’
‘Oh. They didn’t look terribly fierce, did they? I mean they seem quite ordinary really, save that they wear furs.’
‘Yes, they are ordinary,’ said Gilad, removing his helm and combing his hair with his fingers, allowing the cool breeze to get to his head. ‘Very ordinary. Except that they live for war. Fighting comes as naturally to them as farming does to you. Or me,’ he added as an afterthought, knowing this to be untrue.
‘I wonder why?’ said Bregan. ‘It has never made much sense to me. I mean, I understand why some men become soldiers: to protect the nation and all that. But a whole race of people living to be soldiers seems . . . unhealthy? Does that sound right?’