‘It is fitting that Kityan should join his master,’ he said, casually reloading the crossbow. ‘He lived for torture, to inflict pain on others.’ He glanced at the remaining raiders. ‘But you,’ he said, pointing at a broad-shouldered young man, ‘you, Maneas, have better dreams. Back in Gothir, at the village of the Nine Oaks, there is a girl. You wanted to marry her, but her father gave her to another. You were heartbroken when you rode away. Would it help to know that her husband will drown this summer? She will be alone. If you return to her you will sire two sons and a daughter.’
‘How do you know this?’ asked the young man. ‘Are you a wizard?’
‘You can think of me as a prophet,’ said the man. ‘For I know what is, and what will be. I have seen the future. If you kill this woman and her children, Maneas, you will still go home. You will still wed Leandra, and she will bear you the three children I spoke of. And then one night this woman’s husband will find you. He will have been searching for nine years. He will take you into the woods and put out your eyes. Then he will stake you to the ground and build a fire upon your belly.’ Tanya saw all colour drain from the young man’s face.
The newcomer’s hand swept out, pointing to a thin, middle-aged man. ‘And you, Patris. No matter what happens here today you will leave this band and journey to Gulgothir. You will seek to fulfil a dream you have had since childhood, to begin a business, designing jewellery for the nobles, wonderfully wrought rings and brooches. You will discover that what you thought of as talent is, in fact, genius. You will find happiness and wealth and fame in Gulgothir. But if this woman dies her man will find you. He will cut off your hands, and your body will be discovered impaled upon a sharp stake.’
He fell silent, and they waited. Finally he spoke again. ‘The luckiest of you will survive for nineteen years. But many of those years will be lived in terror. You will hear of the murders of your comrades. One by one. Every day you will stare into the faces of strangers, wondering if the faceless killer is one of them. And one day he will be. This is the truth.
‘Now it is time to make a choice. Ride from here and live. Or stay, and know the endless torment of the damned.’
For a moment no one moved. Then the young Maneas swung his horse and galloped back towards the north. One by one the others followed until only a swarthy, round-shouldered man remained. ‘And what of me, prophet?’ he asked. ‘Is there some happiness I can find?’
‘There is now, Lodrian. Now you can journey to Lentria. You will find a village and, short of coin, you will seek employment. A young widow will ask you to repair her roof. And your life will change.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lodrian. He looked down at Tanya. ‘I am sorry for the fear we caused you.’ Then he rode away.
The rider slowly dismounted. Tanya saw him stumble as he did so, dropping his crossbow to the ground. He took several steps towards Gellan then fell to his knees. Tanya ran to his side, putting her arms around his shoulders. ‘You are ill, sir,’ she said. ‘Let me help you.’
The man swayed and, with difficulty, Tanya lowered him to the ground. He lay back, his head surrounded by the fading spring flowers of the meadow. He looked into her eyes.
‘Do I know you, sir?’ she asked.
‘No. We have . . . never met. But I knew a woman once, who was . . . like you.’
‘My husband will be home soon. He will help me get you to a bed. We will send for the surgeon.’
His voice was weaker. ‘I will not be alive when he returns.’
She took his hand and kissed it. ‘You saved us,’ she said, tears in her eyes. ‘There must be something we can do for you!’