‘No, sire.’
‘Isn’t it strange how certain qualities remain?’ mused Ceska.
‘Sire?’
‘I mean – he is still a leader, isn’t he? The others still look to him – I wonder why?’
‘I don’t know, sire. You look cold – can I fetch you some wine?’
‘You wouldn’t poison me, would you?’
‘No, sire, but you are right – I ought to taste it first.’
‘Yes. Taste it.’
Darik poured wine into a golden goblet and drank a little. His eyes widened.
‘What is it, general?’ asked Ceska, leaning forward.
‘There is something in it, sire. It is salty.’
‘Oceans of blood!’ said Ceska, giggling.
*
Tenaka Khan awoke in the hour before dawn and reached for Renya, but the bed was empty. Then he remembered and sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He seemed to recall someone saying his name, but it must have been a dream.
The voice called again and Tenaka swung his legs from the bed and gazed around the tent.
‘Close your eyes, my friend and relax,’ said the voice.
Tenaka lay back. In his mind’s eye he could see the slender, ascetic face of Decado.
‘How long before you reach us?’
‘Five days. If Scaler opens the gates.’
‘We will be dead by then.’
‘I can move no more swiftly.’
‘How many men do you bring?’
‘Forty thousand.’
‘You seem changed, Tani.’
‘I am the same. How fares it with Ananais?’
‘He trusts you.’
‘And the others?’
‘Pagan and Parsal are dead. We have been forced back to the last valleys. We can hold for maybe three days – no more. The Joinings are everything we feared.’
Tenaka told him of his ghostly meeting with Aulin and the words of the old man. Decado listened in silence.
‘So you are the Khan,’ he said at last.
‘Yes.’
‘Farewell, Tenaka.’
Back at Tarsk, Decado opened his eyes. Acuas and The Thirty sat in a circle around him, linking their powers.
Each of them had heard the words of Tenaka Khan, but more importantly each had entered his mind, sharing his thoughts.
Decado took a deep breath. ‘Well?’ he asked Acuas.
‘We are betrayed,’ answered the warrior priest.
‘Not yet,’ said Decado. ‘He will come.’
‘That is not what I meant.’
‘I know what you meant. But let tomorrow look after itself. Our purpose here is to aid the people of Skoda. None of us will live to see the events thereafter.’
‘But what is the point?’ asked Balan. ‘Some good should come of our deaths. Are we merely helping them to exchange tyrants?’
‘And what if we are?’ said Decado softly. ‘The Source knows best. If we do not believe that, then it is all for nothing.’
‘So you are now a believer?’ said Balan sceptically.
‘Yes, Balan, I am a believer. I think I always was. For even in my despair I railed at the Source. That itself was an admission of belief, though I could not see it. But tonight has convinced me.’
‘Betrayal by a friend has convinced you?’ asked Acuas, astonished.
‘No, not betrayal. Hope. A glimmer of light. A sign of love. But we will talk of this tomorrow. Tonight there are farewells to be said.’
‘Farewells?’ said Acuas.
‘We are The Thirty,’ said Decado. ‘Our mission is near completion. As the Voice of The Thirty I am the Abbot of Swords. But I am to die here. Yet The Thirty must live on. We have seen tonight that a new threat is growing and that in the days to come the Drenai will have need of us again. As in the past, so shall it be now. One of us must leave, take on the mantle of Abbot and raise a new group of Source warriors. That man is Katan, the Soul of The Thirty.’
‘It cannot be me,’ said Katan. ‘I do not believe in death and killing.’
‘Exactly so,’ said Decado. ‘Yet you are chosen. It seems to me that the Source always chooses us to perform tasks against our natures. Why, I do not know . . . but He knows.
‘I am a poor man to be a leader. And yet the Source has allowed me to see His power. I am content. The rest of us will obey his will. Now, Katan, lead us in prayer for the last time.’