Klay smiled. ‘All men can be beaten, Atka. You will just have to wait a few days and see.’
Klay stood and smiled at the blushing young woman. ‘He is a fine boy,’ said the Champion. Taking her hand he kissed it, then moved away, pausing to study the paintings on the far wall. Many were landscapes of the desert and the mountains, others depicted young women in various stages of undress. Some were of hunting scenes, while two, which caught Klay’s eyes, were of wild flowers. At the far end of the gallery was a long stall, behind which stood an elderly Chiatze. Klay made his way to the man, and studied the artefacts laid out so neatly. They were mostly small statuettes, surrounded by brooches, amulets, bracelets, bangles and rings. Klay lifted a small ivory figurine, no more than four inches tall. It was of a beautiful woman in a flowing dress. There were flowers in her hair, and in her hand she held a snake, its tail coiled around her wrist.
‘This is very lovely,’ he said.
The small Chiatze nodded and smiled. ‘She is Shul-sen, the bride of Oshikai Demon-bane. The figurine is close to a thousand years old.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘I am Chorin-Tsu, Lord, the Royal Embalmer – and a student of history. I found this piece during an archaeological survey near the site of the fabled Battle of Five Armies. I am certain that is no less than nine centuries old.’ Klay lifted the figurine close to his eyes. The woman’s face was oval, her eyes slanted; she seemed to be smiling.
‘She was Chiatze, this Shul-sen?’ he asked.
Chorin-Tsu spread his hands. ‘That depends, Lord, on your perspective. She was, as I told you, the wife of Oshikai, and he is considered the father of the Nadir. It was he who led the rebel tribes from the lands of the Chiatze, and fought his way to the lands now ruled by the Gothir. After his death the tribes roamed free, warring upon one another, even as now. So, if he was the first Nadir, then Shul-sen was . . . what? Nadir or Chiatze?’
‘Both,’ said Klay. ‘And beautiful too. What happened to her?’
The Chiatze shrugged, and Klay saw sorrow in the dark, slanted eyes. ‘That depends on which version of historical events you happen to believe. For myself I think she was murdered soon after Oshikai’s death. All the records point to this, though some stories have her sailing to a mythic land beyond the sea. If you are of romantic leanings perhaps that is the story you should cling to.’
‘I tend to hold to the truth where I can,’ said Klay. ‘But in this case I would like to believe she lived happily somewhere. I would guess we will never know.’
Chorin-Tsu spread his hands once more. ‘As a student I like to think that one day the mists will be opened. Perhaps I might find some documentary evidence.’
‘If you do so, let me know. Meanwhile I shall purchase this figurine. Have it delivered to my house.’
‘You wish to know the price, Lord?’
‘I am sure it will be a fair one.’
‘Indeed it will, sir.’
Klay turned away, then swung back. ‘Tell me, Chorin-Tsu, how is it that the Royal Embalmer runs a stall of antiquities?’
‘Embalming, Lord, is my profession. History is my passion. And as with all passions they must be shared to be enjoyed. Your delight in the piece brings me great pleasure.’
Klay moved on, through the gallery arch and through to the Hall of Cuisine. Two guards opened the door to the beautifully furnished dining room of the nobility. Klay had long since lost any sense of nervousness upon entering such establishments, for despite the lowliness of his birth his legend was now so great among the people that he was considered higher than most nobles. There were few diners present, but Klay spotted the Drenai ambassador, Majon, engaged in a heated discussion with a fop in a bejewelled blue tunic. The fop was tall and slim, and very handsome, his hair light brown and held in place by a silver headband adorned with an opal. Klay approached them. Majon did not at first notice the fighter, and continued to rail at his companion.