‘Exactly where are they?’ asked Druss. ‘I do not have much time. Klay is dying.’
‘I cannot tell you exactly. They were stolen several hundred years ago by a renegade shaman. He was hunted and stopped to rest at the Shrine of Oshikai; after that he was found and killed. Despite the most severe torture he refused to reveal the hiding-place. I now believe they are hidden at the Shrine.’
‘Then why have you not searched for them?’
‘I think he placed them within the tomb of Oshikai Demon-bane. No Nadir may defile that sacred object. Only a . . . foreigner . . . would desecrate it.’
‘How much more are you concealing from me, little man?’
‘A great deal,’ admitted Nosta. ‘But then there is much that you do not need to know. The only truth that is of value to you is this: the jewels will save the life of your friend, and return him to full health.’
Sieben emerged from the water and padded across the hot stones to the shade. ‘Ah, made a friend, I see,’ he said, as he sat beside the shaman. ‘I take it this is the old man who spoke to you in the tavern?’ Druss nodded and Sieben extended his hand. ‘My name is Sieben. I am the poet. You may have heard of me.’
‘I have not heard of you,’ said Nosta, ignoring the outstretched hand.
‘What a blow to one’s vanity,’ said Sieben, with an easy smile. ‘Do you have poets among the Nadir?’
‘For what purpose?’ asked the old man.
‘Art, joy, entertainment . . .’ Sieben hesitated as he saw the blank look of incomprehension on the old man’s face. ‘History!’ he said suddenly. ‘How is your history retained among the tribe?’
‘Each man is taught the history of his tribe by his mother, and the history of his family by his father And the tribe’s shaman knows all their histories, and the deeds of every Nadir hero.’
‘You have no art, no sculptors, actors, painters?’
Nosta Khan’s coal-dark eyes glittered. ‘Three in five Nadir babies die in infancy. The average age of death among Nadir men is twenty-six. We live in a state of constant war, one with another, and in the meanwhile being hunted for sport by Gothir noblemen. Plague, pestilence, the constant threat of drought or famine – these are matters which concern the Nadir. We have no time for art.’ Nosta Khan spat out the last word as if the taste upon his tongue was offensive.
‘How excruciatingly dull,’ said Sieben. ‘I never felt sorry for your people – until now. Excuse me while I water the horses.’
Sieben rose and dressed. Nosta Khan swallowed down his irritation, and returned his gaze to Druss. ‘Are there many like him in the South lands?’
Druss smiled. ‘There are not many like him anywhere.’ Reaching into his pack, he produced a round of cheese wrapped in muslin and some dried beef. He offered a portion to Nosta Khan, who refused. Druss ate in silence. Sieben returned and joined him. When they had completed the meal, Druss yawned and stretched out in the shade; within moments he was asleep.
‘Why do you travel with him?’ Nosta Khan asked Sieben.
‘For the adventure, old horse. Wherever Druss goes one is sure to find adventure. And I like the idea of magical jewels. I’m sure there’ll be a song or a story in it.’
‘On that we will agree,’ said Nosta Khan. ‘Even now two thousand Gothir warriors are being marshalled. Led by Gargan, the Lord of Larness, they will march to the Shrine of Oshikai Demon-bane and lay siege to it, with the intention of killing everyone there, and taking the jewels as a gift to the madman who sits upon the throne. You are riding into the eye of the hurricane, poet. Yes, I am sure there will be a song in it for you.’
Nosta relished the fear that showed in the young man’s soft eyes. Stretching his scrawny frame, he struggled to his feet and walked away from the pool. All was moving as he had planned, yet Nosta felt uneasy. Could Talisman marshal the Nadir troops to withstand Larness ? Could he find the Eyes of Alchazzar ? Closing his eyes Nosta let his spirit fly to the east, soaring over the mountains and dry valleys. Far below he saw the Shrine, its curved white walls shining like a ring of ivory. Beyond it were the tents of the Nadir guardians. Where are you, Talisman, he wondered?