Niall repeated: “Thirty days.”
“What?”
“Thirty days. And it happened two days ago. My brother has another twenty-eight days to live.”
Simeon said brusquely: “What are you talking about? He’s already on the mend.”
Niall shook his head. “No. Madig died after thirty days. This magician has the power to kill from a distance. That is why he said: My arm is long and I do not release my grip.”
He thought of his mother, and of his sisters and of Dona, and for a moment felt vulnerable and helpless. It seemed unfair that he should have to deal with problems that were so completely beyond his normal experience. At that moment he saw the little kitchen maid descending the stairs with a tray in her hands. It jogged his memory. “Nyra, please take some soup to my brother.”
Her face broke into a smile of delight, reminding him that, like Dona, she had a certain personal interest in his brother.
“Yes lord.”
As she halted to curtsy, his moment of weakness passed. She had somehow reminded him that, as master of this city, he could not afford weakness. He waited for the kitchen door to close behind her, then said: “I must seek out this magician.”
Simeon shot an astonished glance from under his bushy eyebrows. “With an army?”
“No. There is no time to take an army. I must travel alone.”
“That would be dangerous and foolhardy.”
“I agree. But I must find out what he wants.”
“You know what he wants. He is a totally ruthless man who would not hesitate to kill you.”
“I know that. But I still don’t know what he wants. And there is only one way I can find out.” He turned to Grel, smiling. “So you see, you were right after all. I am going on a long journey.”
“It was not I but the Lord Qisib who foretold it. He is never wrong.”
“I believe you. And now I wish I had asked him one more question.”
“What question, lord?”
“Whether I shall also make the return journey.”