‘You like him?’ asked Nalademus.
‘He is a hard man to like, lord. But I do not dislike him.’
‘And you would class him as loyal to Connavar?’
‘Utterly. They were enemies once, when Connavar was a young man. Both loved the same girl, and she chose Connavar. But they have been friends now for twenty years.’
‘And what of Braefar?’
‘Is he here too, lord?’
‘No, but I have heard him spoken of.’
‘He is the Laird of Three Streams, and another half-brother to Connavar. He is a very clever man.’
‘Do I hear a but in your voice?’
‘I believe he feels he should have had greater duties than he has. He complains publicly about his talents being underused.’
‘And are they underused?’ asked Nalademus softly.
‘I don’t believe they are,’ said Banouin. ‘Whenever Connavar has offered him more responsibility something has always gone wrong. Braefar always blamed others for their shortcomings, accepting no responsibility for the errors and mistakes.’
‘Interesting,’ said Nalademus. ‘I thank you for your time. Now I must get to work. I shall have a carriage ready for you to attend the university. Please convey my good wishes to Sencra.’
‘I shall, lord,’ said Banouin, rising. ‘And I shall return by dusk to prepare more medicine.’
Banouin bowed and left the Stone elder.
An hour later he was strolling through the main hallway of the university building, and out into the Park of Phesus. A light rain was falling, but Banouin ignored it and ran along the white path to the willow. Pushing aside the trailing branches he sat down on the curved stone bench and relaxed his mind. His spirit soared free, floating high above the city. Swiftly he sped over the waters of the bay, hovering over the fine villas with waterside views. One by one he flew through them, seeking out his countrymen.
And then he saw them, walking together in a terraced garden. Bran seemed worried, his handsome features grim as he listened to his companion. Fiallach looked older, and there was silver in his braided yellow hair and drooping moustache. It felt good to be close to them, and Banouin realized in that moment just how much he missed the mountains of home. He wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation, but decided that would be rude, and flew back to his body.
He opened his eyes, and saw the dark-haired Maro leaning over him. ‘I thought you had fainted,’ said Maro. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am fine.’
‘We thought the worst when you failed to return. Then Sencra came back, and told us you had spoken up for him with Nalademus himself. That was a fine deed, Banouin.’
‘He was innocent. I just explained it, that’s all.’
‘Heroes should always be modest,’ said Maro. ‘Or so my father always tells me. Come, let’s go to the library. You can tell me of your adventures.’
Chapter Eight
Bendegit Bran stood before the emperor and bowed low. Beside him the huge general Fiallach followed his lead. Straightening Bran waved his hand and Fiallach stepped forward, bearing an ornately carved wooden box. ‘I bring you greetings from my king,’ said Bran, ‘and a gift.’
Jasaray, seated on a gilded throne, summoned the tribesman forward. Bran noted that the three guards in silver armour standing close to the emperor were tense and ready to spring forward at the first sign of treachery. Hardly surprising, thought Bran. Fiallach was a massive man, with fierce blue eyes and a long-standing – and well-chronicled – hatred of Stone. Jasaray himself seemed perfectly at ease. Fiallach lifted the lid of the box. Inside, nestling on velvet, was an exquisite dagger, with a blade of silver steel and a hilt of gold, encrusted with pale blue gems. The pommel held a huge black opal, which had been superbly carved into the shape of a panther’s head. Jasaray reached out and lifted the dagger clear. It seemed to Bran that the weapon looked incongruous in the old man’s hand, and he understood in that moment why he was once known as Scholar to his men. Jasaray could not have looked less like a warrior emperor. He was skinny and slightly round-shouldered, his hair thinning, his face long and ascetic. He could have been a philosopher or a teacher, rather than the most gifted general Stone had produced.