The Legend Of Deathwalker By David Gemmell

‘Done,’ agreed Sieben. ‘But I want both horses re-shod and brought to me in three hours.’ From his pouch he took two silver pieces and passed them to the man. ‘Full payment will be upon receipt,’ he said.

After giving the dealer the address, Sieben strolled out into the market-place beyond. It was near deserted, mute testimony to the riots that had taken place here last night. A young whore approached him, stepping from the doorway of a smoke-blackened building. ‘Do you seek delight, Lord?’ she asked him. Sieben gazed down; her face was young and pretty, but her eyes were world-weary and empty.

‘How much?’

‘For a nobleman like you, Lord, a mere quarter-silver. Unless you need a bed, and that will be a half.’

‘And for this you will delight me?’

‘I will give you hours of pleasure,’ she promised. Sieben took her hand and saw that her fingers were clean, as was the cheap dress she wore.

‘Show me,’ he said.

Two hours later he wandered back into the House of Lodging. Majon was sitting by the far window, composing a speech he was to make at the Royal Funeral tomorrow. He glanced up as Sieben entered, and laid aside his quill. ‘We must talk,’ he said, beckoning Sieben to join him.

The poet was tired, and already regretting his decision to join Druss on his journey. He sat on a padded couch and poured himself a goblet of watered wine. ‘Let us make this swift, ambassador, for I need an hour’s sleep before I ride.’

‘Yes, the ride. This is not seemly, poet. The Queen’s funeral is tomorrow and Druss is an honoured guest. To ride out now is an insult of the worst kind. Especially following the riots – which began over Druss, after all. Could you not wait for a few days at least?’

Sieben shook his head. ‘I am afraid we are dealing here with something you don’t understand, ambassador. Druss sees this as a debt of honour.’

‘Do not seek to insult me, poet. I well understand the notion. But Druss did not ask for this man’s help, and therefore is in no way responsible for his injury. He owes him nothing.’

‘Amazing,’ said Sieben. ‘You prove my point exactly. I talk of honour and you speak of transactions. Listen to me . . . a man was crippled trying to help Druss. Now he is dying and we cannot wait any longer. The surgeon told Druss that Klay has perhaps a month to live. Therefore we are leaving now, as soon as the horses are delivered.’

‘But it is all nonsense!’ roared Majon. ‘Magical jewels hidden in a Nadir valley! What sane man would even consider such . . . such a fanciful tale? I have been researching the area you plan to visit. There are many tribes raiding in those parts. No convoys passed through there – unless heavily guarded. There is one particular group of raiders known as Chop-backs. How do you like the sound of that? You know how they got their name? They smash the lower spines of their prisoners and leave them out on the steppes for the wolves to devour.’

Sieben drained his wine, and hoped his face had not shown the terror he felt. ‘You have made your point, ambassador.’

‘Why is he really doing this?’

‘I have already told you. Druss owes the man a debt – and he would walk through fire to repay it.’

As Sieben rose, Majon also stood. ‘Why are you going with him? He is not the brightest of men, and I can . . . just. .. understand his simplistic view of the world. But you? You have wit and rare intelligence. Can you not see the futility of this venture ?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Sieben. ‘And it saddens me that I can, for it merely highlights the terrible flaws of what you call intelligence.’

Back in his room, Sieben bathed and then stretched himself out on his bed. The delights the whore had promised had proved to be ephemeral and illusive. Just as all the delights of life Sieben had ever sampled. Lust followed by a gentle sorrow for all that had been missed. The ultimate experience, like the myth of the ultimate woman, was always ahead.

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