Norda was waiting there, with several small sacks of supplies. She ran to Emrin. ‘Oh my poor dear,’ she said, reaching up and stroking his bruised and swollen face.
‘Not … so pretty, eh?’
‘You look good to me,’ she said, ‘but you’d best be seeing to your horses. The Gentleman wants his steeldust saddled. He told me that.’ She took his hand. ‘Now, you listen to me, Emrin, the Gentleman is a fine man, but he has many enemies. You look after him.’
Suddenly, despite all his pain, Emrin laughed. ‘Me? Look after him? Ah, Norda, what a thought!’
The Grey Man strode from the palace and along the gravel-covered path. Norda curtsied as she saw him. Emrin saw that his face was grim. ‘Can you ride?’ asked the Grey Man.
‘I can, sir.’
Niallad came from the stables, leading three saddled horses, two roans and the steeldust gelding. The Grey Man stepped into the saddle and called to Norda, ‘My thanks to you, girl.’ Norda curtsied. ‘And tell Matze Chai to return home.’
‘I will, sir.’
Emrin walked to the first of the roans and hauled himself painfully into the saddle, then followed the Grey Man and the youth as they rode towards the trees.
They had been riding in silence for almost an hour when Emrin heard the youth say, ‘The guards will raise the alarm. How soon before we are followed?’
‘We have a little time,’ answered the Grey Man.
The youth was silent for a moment. ‘You killed them, didn’t you?’ he said at last.
‘Yes, I killed them.’
‘You told them you would let them live if they cut him loose. What kind of a man are you?’
Emrin winced as he heard the question.
The Grey Man did not answer it. Swinging his horse, he rode back to Emrin. ‘Head west towards the forest, keeping the ruins to the south. If you see mist keep clear of it. I will catch up with you before dusk.’
‘Yes, sir.’ As the Grey Man rode back along the trail Emrin called, ‘And thank you!’ Heeling his horse, he moved up alongside the young man.
Niallad was flushed and angry. ‘He has no concern for human life,’ he said.
‘He had concern for yours – and mine,’ said Emrin. That’ll do for me.’
‘You condone what he did?’
Emrin hauled on the reins and swung in the saddle to face the young noble. ‘Look at me!’ he said fiercely, struggling to control his anger. ‘Those men were about to beat me to death. You think I care that they are dead? When I was a lad a group of us thought it would be great sport to go on a deer hunt. We had our new spears, and a couple of us had hunting bows. Seven of us, there were. We went into the mountains and soon came upon tracks. As we were closing in on our quarry we moved into some dense undergrowth. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge grizzly reared up. One of my friends – an idiot named Steff – loosed a shaft into it. Only two of us made it down from the mountain.’
‘What has this to do with the Grey Man?’ asked Niallad.
‘If you anger a bear don’t be surprised if it rips your guts out!’ snapped Emrin.
Three-swords was hot, the sun beating down on his lacquered black hair while not a breath of breeze stirred against his ankle-length tunic of black silk. He stood quietly, his hands resting on the hilts of two curved swords, scabbarded at his sides. A third sword hung between his shoulder-blades, his ornate helm tied to the hilt. The Kriaz-nor scanned the clearing then moved swiftly across it and into the shadows of the trees, closely followed by his three black-garbed companions.
Once in the shade Three-swords paused, enjoying the respite from the harsh sun. His golden eyes scanned the trail. Irritation touched him. They should have been given a hunt-hound, for despite his tracking skills they had lost the trail three times so far. It was most galling. Deresh Karany had given them three days to kill the sword-bearers, and two were almost gone. If they failed to complete the task in the time allotted it was likely that one of the four would be executed. Three-swords knew he was unlikely to be the one chosen, but with Deresh Karany nothing was certain.