‘And you were so close,’ said Bregan. ‘Only one strike in it.’
‘One lucky blow and I could have won a month’s wages.’
‘Such is life,’ said Bregan. ‘Maybe next year you can come back and have another try?’
‘And maybe corn will grow on the backs of camels!’ said Gilad.
Back at the Keep, Druss was struggling to keep his temper as the City Elders argued back and forth about the Nadir offer. Word had spread to them with bewildering speed, and Druss had barely managed to eat a chunk of bread and cheese before a messenger from Orrin informed him that the Elders had called a meeting.
It was a Drenai rule, long established, that except in time of battle the Elders had a democratic right to see the city lord and debate matters of importance. Neither Orrin nor Druss could refuse. No one could argue that Ulric’s ultimatum was unimportant.
Six men constituted the City Elders, an elected body which effectively ruled all trade within the city. The Master Burgher and chief elder was Bricklyn, who had entertained Druss so royally on the night of the assassination attempt. Malphar, Backda, Shinell and Alphus were all merchants, while Beric was a nobleman, a distant cousin of Earl Delnar and highly-placed in city life. Only lack of real fortune kept him at Delnoch and away from Drenan, which he loved.
Shinell, a fat, oily silk merchant, was the main cause of Druss’s anger. ‘But surely we have a right to discuss Ulric’s terms and must be allowed a say in whether they are accepted or rejected,’ he said again. ‘It is of vital interest to the city, after all, and by right of law our vote must carry.’
‘You know full well, my dear Shinell,’ said Orrin smoothly, ‘that the City Elders have full rights to discuss all civil matters. This situation hardly falls within that category. Nevertheless, your point of view is noted,’
Malphar, a red-faced wine dealer of Lentrian stock, interrupted Shinell as he began his protest. ‘We are getting nowhere with this talk of rules and precedent. The fact remains that we are virtually at war. Is it a war we can win?’ His green eyes scanned the faces around him and Druss tapped his fingers on the table-top, the only outward sign of his tensions. ‘Is it a war we can carry long enough to force an honourable peace? I don’t think it is,’ continued Malphar. ‘It is all a nonsense. Abalayn has run the army down until it is only a tenth of the size it was a few years ago. The navy has been halved. This Dros was last under siege two centuries ago, when it almost fell. Yet our records tell us that we had forty thousand warriors in the field.’
‘Get on with it, man! Make your point,’ said Druss.
‘I shall, but spare me your harsh looks, Druss. I am no coward. What I am saying is this: If we cannot hold and cannot win, what is the point of this defence?’
Orrin glanced at Druss and the old warrior leaned forward. ‘The point is,’ he said, ‘that you don’t know whether you’ve lost – until you’ve lost. Anything can happen: Ulric could suffer a stroke; plague could hit the Nadir forces. We have to try to hold.’
‘What about the women and children?’ asked Backda, a skull-faced lawyer and property owner.
‘What about them?’ said Druss. ‘They can leave at any time.’
To go where, pray? And with what monies?’
‘Ye gods!’ thundered Druss, surging to his feet. ‘What will you be wanting me to do next? Where they go, if they do, how they go – is their concern and yours. I am a soldier and my job is to fight and kill. And believe me, I do that very well. We have been ordered to fight to the last and that we will do.
‘Now, I may not know very much about law and all the little niceties of city politics, but I do know this: Any man who speaks of surrender during the coming siege is a traitor.
‘And I will see him hang.’
‘Well said, Druss,’ offered Beric, a tall middle-aged man with shoulder-length grey hair. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. Very stirring.’ He smiled as Druss sank back to his seat. ‘There is one point, though. You say you have been asked to fight to the end. That order can always be changed; politics being what it is, the question of expediency comes into it. At the moment, it is expedient for Abalayn to ask us to prepare for war. He may feel it gives him greater bargaining power with Ulric. Ultimately, though, he must consider surrender. Facts are facts: the tribes have conquered every nation they have attacked and Ulric is a general above comparison.