‘I don’t think that I can,’ she said.
‘Think back to the woman I first met. You are still her. You have suffered, but you are still the Princess Tanaki, daughter of Tenaka Khan. In you is the blood of greatness.’
He held out his hand and her fingers lifted towards it, fell away, then rose swiftly to hold tightly to his.
Tears welled in her eyes and she sank forward against him. He put his arm around her and sat with her for some time, neither of them speaking. At last she pulled away.
‘Then we are friends?’ she asked.
‘Always,’ he told her, smiling.
Together they walked back to the camp where Chareos was sitting alone, staring up at the eastern sky. He did not seem to notice them and Kiall wandered over to him.
‘How are you faring?’ he asked.
Chareos looked up. ‘I do not need to be comforted,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘You did well by her. You are a good man.’
‘You followed me?’
‘Yes. But I did not stay long. She’s a fine woman, Kiall. Strong and beautiful.’
‘I know that,’ said the younger man, uncomfortable.
‘If you were to ask me for advice – which you won’t – I would tell you to take her away from here. Return to the lands of the Gothir, marry and raise tall sons.’
‘And what would you do?’ asked Kiall.
‘I would continue this mad quest,’ answered Chareos.
‘Yes, I know. You cannot stop now,’ said Kiall sadly. ‘Now that it has cost the lives of three of your friends.’
‘You are a gifted young man, Kiall. Intuitive and intelligent.’
‘I wish I had never asked you for aid. I mean that truly.’
‘I know. Sleep well, boy.’
*
During the weeks which followed Tanaki found herself constantly watching Kiall – enjoying his hesitant, nervous smile, the tilt of his head as he spoke. She had not completely lost her nervousness with the others, but Kiall’s friendship had given her strength to battle her fears. During the long evenings Tanaki would walk away from the others and sit with her back to a rock, or a tree, and watch the men. They talked little, but in their movements there was much to read. Beltzer was a bear, a great ambling powerhouse filled with a bitterness he could not voice. Yet his actions were sure and confident, and his speed belied his bulk. Chareos was the timber-wolf, lean and canny, always checking the back-trail, always thinking, always aware. Harokas was the leopard, sleek and yet savage.
And Kiall?
He was the strongest of them all, confident enough to be gentle, humble enough to be wise. His was the strength born of caring, where the others had built their fortresses upon their talent for violence.
But what animal, she wondered? She sat back and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to relax into memories. She was back in the cold palace of Ulrickham. Jungir was playing with a set of carved soldiers, setting them out in battle formation, while she was sitting on a bearskin rug snuggled up against Nameas, the huge warhound. He had been a gift to Tenaka from the Gothir regent, and he followed the Khan on every hunt. Nameas was a killer in war, his terrible jaws rending and tearing, yet in the palace he was soft and gentle, turning his great head every now and then to lick at the infant curled up beside him.
Yes, that was Kiall. The warhound.
Often Tanaki would smile and beckon Kiall to her and they would sit long into the evening talking. She would reach out her hand and he would take it, and they would sit beneath the stars.
One evening, in the third week of travel, she was sitting alone when a shadow fell across her. She thought it was Kiall and looked up, smiling.
‘May I join you, Princess?’ asked Harokas, sitting down beside her.
She swallowed hard and held the smile in place. ‘I did not expect you to join this quest,’ she said. ‘I have always thought of you as a man who looks out only for himself.”
‘As always you are correct, Tanaki,’ he said. ‘The quest means nothing to me.’