‘What was it?’ he asked.
Vintar joined him, placing a hand gently on the man’s shoulder.
‘We have many enemies,’ he said. ‘They have great powers. But fear not, we are not powerless and no harm will befall the ship again. I promise you.’
‘And what of his soul?’ asked the captain, wandering to the rail. ‘Have they taken it?’
‘It is free,’ said Vintar. ‘Believe me.’
‘We will all be free,’ said Rek, ‘if someone doesn’t turn the ship away from those rocks.’
*
In the darkened tent of Nosta Khan the acolytes silently backed out, leaving him sitting in the centre of the circle chalked on the dirt floor. Lost in thought, Nosta Khan ignored them – he was drained and angry.
For they had bested him and he was a man unused to defeat. It tasted bitter in his mouth.
He smiled.
There would be another time . . .
16
Blessed by a following wind, Wastrel sped north until at last the silver grey towers of Dros Purdol broke the line of the horizon. The ship entered the harbour a little before noon, piloting past the Drenai war triremes and the merchant vessels anchored in the bay.
On the milling docks street traders sold charms, ornaments, weapons and blankets to mariners, while burly dockers carried provisions up swaying gangplanks, stacking cargo and checking loads. All was noise and apparent confusion.
The harbour-side was rich in colour and the hectic pace of city life and Rek felt a pang of regret to be leaving the ship. As Serbitar led The Thirty ashore, Rek and Virae said their goodbyes to the captain.
‘With one exception, it has been a more than pleasant voyage,’ Virae told him. ‘I thank you for your courtesy.’
‘I was glad to be of service, my lady. I will forward the marriage papers to Drenan on my return. It was a “first” for me. I have never taken part in the wedding of an earl’s daughter – much less conducted one. I wish you well.’ Bending forward he kissed her hand.
He wanted to add, ‘Long life and happiness,’ but he knew their destination.
Virae strode down the gangplank as Rek gripped the captain’s hand. He was surprised when the man embraced him.
‘May your sword arm be strong, your spirit lucky and your horse swift when the time comes,’ he said.
Rek grinned. ‘The first two I will need. As to the horse, do you believe that lady will consider flight?’
‘No, she’s a wonderful lass. Be lucky.’
‘I will try hard,’ said Rek.
At the quayside a young red-caped officer eased his way through the crowd to confront Serbitar.
‘Your business in Dros Purdol?’ he asked.
‘We are travelling to Delnoch as soon as we can obtain horses,’ answered the albino.
‘The fortress will soon be under siege, sir. Are you aware of the coming war?’
‘We are. We travel with the Lady Virae, daughter of Earl Delnar, and her husband Regnak.’
Seeing Virae, the officer bowed: ‘A pleasure, my lady. We met at your eighteenth birthday celebration last year. You probably won’t remember me.’
‘On the contrary, Dun Degas! We danced and I trod on your foot. You were most kind and took the blame.’
Degas smiled and bowed again. How she had changed, he thought! Where was the clumsy girl who had contrived to trip on the hem of her skirt? Who had blushed as red as the wine when, during a heated conversation, she had crushed a crystal goblet, drenching the woman to her right. What had changed? She was the same woman-girl he remembered – her hair mousy blonde, her mouth too wide, her brows thunder-dark over deep set eyes. He saw her smile as Rek stepped forward and his question was answered. She had become desirable.
‘What are you thinking, Degas?’ she asked. ‘You look far away.’
‘My apologies, my lady. I was thinking Earl Pindak will be delighted to receive you.’
‘You will have to convey my regrets,’ said Virae, ‘for we must leave as soon as possible. Where can we purchase mounts?’
‘I am sure we can find you good horses,’ said Degas. ‘It is a shame you did not arrive sooner, since four days ago we sent three hundred men to Delnoch to aid the defence. You could have travelled with them – it would have been safer. The Sathuli have grown bold since the Nadir threat.’