Stepping closer to the mirror, he touched the surface. it looked like glass. But glass was virtually transparent – how then did it reflect so wonderfully? Peering closer, he examined the mirror and on the bottom right edge he saw what appeared to be a scratch. Dropping to his knee he stared at it, and found that he could look through the scratch at the carpet beyond the mirror. ‘They paint the glass with silver somehow,’ said Druss. ‘I don’t know how it is done.’
Turning from the mirror, Talisman walked into the room. There were six couches covered with polished leather, several chairs, and a long, low table upon which was set a jug of wine and four silver goblets. The room was as large as the home tent of his father – and that housed fourteen! Twin doors on the far side opened on to a wide balcony, which overlooked the colosseum. Talisman padded across the lush carpets and out on to the balcony. The Great Arena was surrounded by tall brass poles, on which stood burning lamps casting a red light on the lower half of the colosseum. It was almost as if the enormous structure was on fire. Talisman wished that it was – and this entire city with it! ‘Pretty, is it not?’ asked Druss.
‘You fight there?’
‘Just once more. The Gothir Champion, Klay. Then I’m going home to my farm, and my wife.’ Druss passed his guest a goblet of Lentrian Red and Talisman sipped it. ‘All the flags flying from so many nations. Why? Are you all planning a war?’
‘As I understand it,’ said Druss, ‘it is the opposite. The nations are here for the Fellowship Games. They are supposed to encourage friendship between the nations, and trade.’
‘The Nadir were not invited to take part,’ said Talisman, turning from the window and re-entering the main room.
‘Ah, well, that’s politics, laddie. I neither understand nor condone it. But even if they did wish to invite the Nadir — to whom would the invite be sent? There are hundreds of tribes, mostly at war with one another. They have no centre — no leader.’
‘That will change,’ said Talisman. ‘A leader is prophesied, a great man. The Uniter!’
‘I hear there have been many so-called Uniters.’
‘This one will be different. He will have eyes the colour of violet, and will bear a name no Nadir has ever chosen. He is coming. And then let your world beware!’
‘Well, I wish you luck,’ said Druss, sitting back on a couch and raising his booted feet to the table. ‘Violet eyes, eh? That’ll be something to see.’
‘They will be like the Eyes of Alchazzar,’ said Talisman. ‘He will be the embodiment of the Great Wolf in the Mountains of the Moon.’
The door opened and Talisman spun to see a tall, handsome young man enter. His fair hair was tied back in a tight pony-tail, and he wore a cloak of crimson over a long blue tunic of opal-adorned silk. ‘I hope you’ve left some of that wine, old horse,’ the newcomer said, addressing Druss. ‘I’m as dry as a lizard’s armpit.’
‘I must be going,’ said Talisman, moving towards the door.
‘Wait!’ said Druss, rising. ‘Sieben, do you know the whereabouts of the Street of Weavers?’
‘No, but there’s a map in the back room. I’ll fetch it.’ Sieben returned moments later and spread the map on the low table. ‘Which quarter?’ he asked Talisman.
‘North-west.’
Sieben’s slender finger traced the map. ‘There it is! Beside the Hall of Antiquities.’ He glanced up at Talisman. ‘You leave here by the main entrance and continue along the Avenue until you come to the Statue of the War Goddess — a tall woman carrying a long spear; there’s a hawk on her shoulder. You bear left for another mile until you see the Park of Poets ahead of you. Turn right and keep going until you reach the Hall of Antiquities. There are four huge columns outside, and a high lintel stone upon which is carved an eagle. The Street of Weavers is the first on the right, past the hall. Would you like me to go over it again?’