‘That would be me,’ answered a tall man with a shaggy beard. He had wide, powerful shoulders, and despite his grimy clothing was no beggar, Druss knew. The skin of his neck was white and clean, as were his hands. And the knife he carried was of Ventrian steel; weapons like that did not come cheap. ‘I can tell by your eyes that you’re frightened,’ said the knife-man, as he moved in. ‘And I can smell your fear.’
Druss stood very still and the man suddenly leapt forward, his knife flashing towards Druss’s shoulder. With his left forearm Druss blocked the thrust, and in the same movement sent a left hook exploding against the man’s chin; he hit the cobbles face first and did not move. Opening his fingers, Druss allowed the truncheon to slide from his sleeve. Figures darted from the shadows and he charged into them, turning his shoulder into the first and cannoning him from his feet. The truncheon hammered left and right, hurling men from their feet. A knife-blade grazed the top of his shoulder. Grabbing the wielder by his tunic he head-butted the man – smashing his nose and cheekbone – then spun him into the path of two more attackers. The first fell clumsily, landing on his own knife; as the blade tore into his side his screams rent the air. The second backed away. But more men gathered: eight fighters, all with weapons of sharp steel. Druss knew they were no longer thinking of crippling him; he could sense their hatred, and the blood-lust surging within them.
‘You’re dead meat, Drenai!’ he heard one of them shout as the group edged forward.
Suddenly a voice boomed out. ‘Hold on, Druss, I’m coming.’
Druss glanced to his left to see Klay charging from the mouth of a nearby alley. As the giant Gothir hurtled into them the men, recognizing him, scattered and ran. Klay walked over to Druss. ‘Such an exciting life you lead, my friend,’ he said, with a broad grin.
Something bright flashed towards Druss’s face and in that one terrifying moment he saw so many things: the moonlight shining on the dagger-blade, the thrower, a look of triumph on his dirty face – and Klay’s hand snaking out with impossible speed, catching the hurled knife by the hilt to stop the blade mere inches from Druss’s eye.
‘I told you, Druss, speed is everything,’ said Klay.
Druss let out a long, deep breath. ‘I don’t know about that, laddie, but you saved my life and I’ll not forget it.’
Klay chuckled. ‘Come on, my friend, I need to eat.’ Throwing his arm around Druss’s shoulder, he turned towards the tavern. In that moment a black-feathered crossbow bolt slashed across the open ground to plunge into the back of the Gothir Champion. Klay cried out and collapsed against Druss. The axeman staggered under the weight, then saw the bolt low in the fighter’s back. Gently he lowered him to the ground. Scanning the shadows for signs of the attacker, he saw two men running away. One carried a crossbow and Druss longed to give chase, but he could not leave the wounded Klay.
‘Lie still – I’ll fetch a surgeon.’
‘What’s happened to me, Druss? Why am I lying down?’
‘You’ve been struck by a crossbow bolt. Lie still!’
‘I cannot move my legs, Druss . . .’
The interrogation room was cold and damp, fetid water leaving a trail of slime on the greasy walls. Two bronze lanterns on one wall put out a flickering light, but no heat. Seated at a crudely fashioned table, upon which he could see bloodstains both old and new, Chorin-Tsu waited patiently, gathering his thoughts. The little Chiatze said nothing to the guard, a burly soldier in a grubby leather tunic and torn breeches, who stood with arms folded by the door. The man had a brutal face and cruel eyes. Chorin-Tsu did not stare at him, but gazed about the room with clinical detachment. Yet his thoughts remained with the guard. I have known many good, ugly men, he thought, and even a few handsome, evil men. Yet one had only to look at this guard to recognize his brutality – as if his coarse and vile nature had somehow reached up from within and moulded his features, swathing his eyes in pockets of fat, set close together above a thick pock-marked nose and thick, slack lips.
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