The prince stood and bowed to Scaler. There was, Scaler thought, a malevolent gleam in his dark eyes.
‘I welcome our noble guest here this evening. No Drenai has ever stood in this temple. But this man claims to be the Nadir Bane, the living spirit of the Earl of Bronze, brother in blood to the great Joachim. Therefore it is fitting that he should meet Joachim again in this holy place.
‘Peace be on your souls, brothers, and let your hearts open to the music of the Void. Let Raffir commune with the darkness . . .’
Scaler shivered as the vast congregation bowed their heads. Raffir leaned back in his seat; his eyes opened wide and then rolled back under the sockets. Scaler began to feel sick.
‘I call upon you, spirit friend!’ shouted Raffir, his voice high-pitched and quavering. ‘Come to us from the holy place. Give us of your wisdom.’
The candles in the temple guttered suddenly, as if a breeze had sprung up in the midst of the building.
‘Come to us, spirit friend! Lead us.’
Once more the candle-flames danced – and this time many went out. Scaler licked his lips; Raffir was no fake.
‘Who calls Joachim Sathuli?’ boomed a voice, deep and resonant. Scaler started in his seat, for the voice came from the scrawny throat of Kaffir.
‘Blood of your blood calls upon you, great Joachim,’ said the prince. ‘I have here a man who claims to be your friend.’
‘Let him speak then,’ said the spirit, ‘for I have heard too often your whining voice.’
‘Speak!’ ordered the prince, turning on Scaler. ‘You heard the command.’
‘You do not command me, wretch!’ snapped Scaler. ‘I am Rek, the Earl of Bronze, and I lived in a day when the Sathuli were men. Joachim was a man – and my brother. Tell me, Joachim, how do you like these sons of your sons?’
‘Rek? I cannot see. Is it you?’
‘It is I, brother. Here among these shadows of you. Why could you not be here with me?’
‘I cannot tell … So much time. Rek! Our first meeting. You remember your words?’
‘I do. “And what is your life worth, Joachim?” And you answered, “A broken sword.” ‘
‘Yes, yes, I remember. But at the last, the words of importance. The words that brought me to Dros Delnoch.’
‘I was riding towards death at the fortress and I told you so. Then I said, “Before me I have nothing but enemies and war. I would like to think I have left at least a few friends behind me.” I asked you to take my hand as a friend.’
‘Rek, it is you! My brother! How is it you enjoy the life of blood once more?’
‘The world has not changed, Joachim. Still evil rises like pus in a boil. I fight a war without allies and with few friends. I came to the Sathuli, as I did in the past.’
‘What do you need, my brother?’
‘I need men.’
‘The Sathuli will not follow you. Nor should they. I loved you, Rek, for you were a great man. But it would be an obscenity for a Drenai to lead the chosen tribe. You must be desperate even to ask. But in your great need I offer you the Cheiam to use as you will. Oh Rek, my brother, would that I could walk beside you once more, tulwar in hand! I can still see the Nadir breasting the last wall, hear their cries of hatred. We were men, were we not?’
‘We were men,’ said Scaler. ‘Even with the wound in your side, you were mighty.’
‘My people fare badly now, Rek. Sheep led by goats. Use the Cheiam well. And may the Lord of All Things bless you.’
Scaler swallowed hard. ‘Has he blessed you, my friend?’
‘I have what I deserve. Goodbye, my brother.’
A terrible sadness overcame Scaler and he sank to his knees, tears coursing his cheeks. He tried to stifle the sobs but they forced their way through as Pagan ran to him, pulling him to his feet.
‘So much sorrow in his voice,’ said Scaler. ‘Take me away from here.’