Lifting the mirror, he gazed at himself.
Could he pass himself off as Rek, the Warrior Earl?
Pagan had given him the idea when he said that men were always willing to believe that other men were stronger, faster, more capable than themselves. It was all a matter of portrayal. He had said that Scaler could appear to be a prince, an assassin, a general.
Then why not a dead hero?
After all, who could prove otherwise?
Scaler left the room; a tribesman carrying a spear bowed and requested him to follow. The man led him to a wide chamber in which sat the young man from the gates, the two Sathuli he had rescued and an old man in robes of faded brown.
‘Welcome,’ said the Sathuli leader. ‘I have someone here who is anxious to meet you.’ He pointed to the old man. ‘This is Raffir, a holy man. He is of the line of Joachim Sathuli, and a great student of history. He has many questions concerning the siege of Dros Delnoch.’
‘I will be happy to answer his questions.’
‘I am sure you will. He also has another talent we find of use – he speaks with the spirits of the dead. Tonight he will enter into a trance and you will be delighted, I am sure, to attend.’
‘Of course.’
‘For myself,’ said the Sathuli, ‘I am looking forward to it. I have listened to Kaffir’s spirit voice many times and often questioned him. But to have the privilege of bringing together such friends . . . well, I feel great pride.’
‘Speak plainly, Sathuli!’ said Scaler. ‘I am in no mood for children’s games.’
‘A thousand apologies, noble guest. I was merely trying to tell you that Kaffir’s spirit guide is none other than your friend, the great Joachim. I shall be fascinated to listen to your conversation.’
*
‘Stop panicking!’ said Pagan as Scaler paced the room. The servants had been dismissed and Belder, dismayed at the news, was strolling in the rose garden below.
‘There is a time for panic,’ said Scaler, ‘when all else fails. Well, it has – so I’m panicking.’
‘Are you sure the old man is genuine?’
‘What difference does it make? If he is a fake, he will have been schooled by the prince to deny me. If he is genuine, the spirit of Joachim will deny me. There is no way round it!’
‘You could denounce the old man as a fake,’ offered Pagan, without conviction.
‘Denounce their holy man in their own temple? I don’t think so. It stretches the laws of hospitality to breaking point.’
‘I hate to sound like Belder, but this was your idea. You really should have thought it through.’
‘I hate you sounding like Belder.’
‘Will you stop that pacing? Here, have some fruit.’ Pagan tossed an apple across the room but Scaler dropped it.
The door opened and Belder entered. ‘It’s a real mess and no mistake,’ he said glumly.
Scaler sank into a wide leather chair. ‘It should be quite a night.’
‘Are we allowed to go armed?’ asked Pagan.
‘If you like,’ said Belder, ‘though I cannot see even you fighting your way through a thousand Sathuli!’
‘I don’t want to die without a weapon in my hand.’
‘Bravely spoken!’ said Scaler. ‘I will take this apple. I don’t want to die without a piece of fruit in my hand. Will you put a stop to this talk of dying? It’s extremely unsettling!’
The conversation struggled on pointlessly until a servant tapped on the door, entered and requested them to follow him. Scaler asked the man to wait while he moved to the full-length mirror on the far wall and gazed at his reflection; he was surprised to find himself smiling. He swung his cloak over his shoulder dramatically and adjusted the opal headband on his brow.
‘Stay with me, Rek,’ he said. ‘I shall need all the help there is.’
The trio followed the servant through the palace until they reached the porch to the temple, where the man bowed and backed away. Scaler walked on into the cool shadows and out into the temple proper. Seats on all sides were filled with silent tribesmen, while the prince and Raffir sat side by side on a raised dais. A third chair was placed at Raffir’s right. Scaler drew himself upright and marched down the aisle, removing his cloak and settling it carefully over the back of his chair.
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