‘I have thought on it.’
‘Will you be a friend to Kuan-Hador?’
‘I think not.’
‘Ah, that is a shame. But it is also a worry for another day. Enjoy your evening.’ The magicker’s hand tapped lightly on Waylander’s back. In that moment Waylander felt a sudden chill. His senses sharpened, his heartbeat quickened. Eldicar moved away back into the crowd.
The thought came to him that he should leave this place.
Waylander walked back towards the terrace. He saw Niallad, climbing the stairs. He was moving slowly, as if at ease, but Waylander could sense the tension in him. Niallad reached the gallery, then turned to his right, entering his room. Sadness touched Waylander.
‘Such a grim face for so lively an evening,’ said the priest Chardyn.
‘I was thinking of the past,’ Waylander told him.
‘Not a pleasant past, it seems.’
Waylander shrugged. ‘If a man lives long enough he will gather bad memories among the good.’
‘That is true, my friend. Though some are worse than others. It is worth remembering that the Source is ever forgiving.’
Waylander laughed. ‘We are alone here, priest. No one else can hear us. You do not believe in the Source.’
‘What makes you think that?’ asked Chardyn, dropping his voice.
‘You stood your ground against the demons – and that makes you a brave man, but you had no spells, no belief that your god was stronger than the evil to come. I knew a Source priest once. He had faith. I know it when I see it.’
‘And you, sir?’ queried Chardyn. ‘Do you have faith?’
‘Oh, I believe, priest. I do not want to, but I believe.’
‘Then why did the Source not strike down the demons as I prayed he would?’
Waylander smiled. ‘Who is to say he did not?’
‘Eldicar Manushan destroyed them, and though I may not be holy myself I also know holiness when I see it.’
‘You think the Source only uses good men for his purposes? I have seen differently. I knew a man once, a killer and a robber. He had, to all intents and purposes, the morals of a gutter rat. This man gave his life for me, and before that had helped to save a nation.’
Chardyn smiled. ‘Who can say for certain that it was the Source who inspired him? Where were the miracles, the light in the sky, the glowing angels?’
Waylander shrugged. ‘My father told me a story once, about a man who lived in a valley. A great storm rose up and the river overflowed. The valley began to flood. A horseman rode by the man’s small house and said to him, “Come, ride with me, for your house will soon be under water.” The man told him that he needed no help, for the Source would save him. As the waters rose the man took refuge on his roof. Two swimmers came by and called out to him, “Jump into the water. We will help you reach dry land.” Again he waved them away, saying that the Source would protect him. As he sat perched on his chimney, thunder filling the sky, a boat came by. “Jump in,” called the boatman. Again the man refused. Moments later the water swept him away and he drowned.’
‘What is the point of this story?’ asked Chardyn.
‘The man’s spirit appeared before the Source. The man was angry. “I believed in you,” he said, “and you failed me.” The Source looked at him and said, “But, my son, I sent a rider, two swimmers and a boat. What more did you want?”‘
Chardyn smiled. ‘I like that. I shall use it in one of my sermons.’ Then he fell silent.
Within the hall Eldicar Manushan, Lord Aric and Lord Panagyn had moved to the stair doors. A guard opened them and they moved through. Elsewhere Waylander saw other guests quietly leaving the hall. Most were followers of Panagyn. His expression hardened. His heart began to beat faster and a sense of danger rose in him. Moving to the terrace doors he saw a squad of soldiers marching through the gardens.
The five-man squad climbed the steps to the terrace. Waylander took the priest by the arm and drew the surprised man out into the night. The guards ignored them, and pushed shut the heavy doors, dropping a crossbar into place before marching off.