‘What are you studying, Lady?’ he asked.
She looked up. Her slanted eyes were not the deep chestnut of the Chiatze, but tawny gold, flecked with blue. They were disconcerting eyes that seemed to stare deep into the recesses of his soul. ‘I have been reading this,’ she said, her gloved hand lightly touching an ancient scroll of dry and faded parchment. ‘It is, I am told, a fifth-generation copy of the sayings of a writer named Missael. He was one of the most extraordinary men of the New Order, following the destruction of the Elder Races. Some believe his verses contain prophecies for the future.’ She smiled. ‘But, then, words are so imprecise. Some of these verses could mean anything.’
‘Then why do you study them?’
‘Why does one study at all?’ she countered. ‘For greater knowledge, and with it greater understanding. Missael tells how the old world was destroyed by lust, greed, fear and hatred. Did mankind learn from the destruction?’
‘Mankind does not have a single set of eyes,’ said Waylander. ‘A million eyes see too much and absorb too little.’
‘Ah, you are a philosopher.’
‘A poor one at best.’
‘From your words you believe mankind cannot change for the better, evolve and develop into a finer species?’
‘Individuals can evolve and change, Lady. This I have seen. But gather together any large group and within a few heartbeats you can have a howling mob, intent on murder and destruction. No, I do not believe mankind will ever change.’
That may be true,’ she agreed, ‘but it leaves the taste of defeat and despair. I cannot countenance such a philosophy. Please sit.’
Drawing up a chair, he reversed it and sat opposite her. ‘Your rescue of the girl, Keeva, does you credit,’ she said, her voice low, almost musical.
‘I did not at first know they had taken a hostage,’ he admitted.
‘Even so. She now has a life – and a destiny – that would otherwise have been robbed from her. Who knows what she may achieve, Waylander?’
‘Not a name I use now,’ he told her. ‘And not one by which I am known by any in Kydor.’
‘No one shall hear it from me,’ she told him. ‘So, tell me, why did you ride after the bandits?’
‘They attacked my lands and my people. What other reason did I need?’
‘Perhaps you needed to prove to yourself that you are still the man you were. Perhaps, beneath the hard, worldly exterior, you felt for the pain and the loss of the villagers, and were determined that those evil men would never again cause such distress. Or perhaps you were thinking of your first wife, Tanya, and how you were not present when the raiders came to kill her and murder your children.’
His voice hardened. ‘You asked to see me, Lady. Your messenger said it was a matter of some importance.’
She sighed, then looked once more into his eyes. When she spoke her voice was softer, the tone regretful. ‘It distresses me to have caused you pain, Grey Man. Forgive me.’
‘Let us understand one another,’ he said coldly. ‘I try to hold my pain in a private place. Not entirely successfully. You opened a window to it. I would consider it a courtesy if you did not open it again.’
‘You have my word upon it.’ She sat silently for a moment, her golden eyes holding to his gaze. ‘It is sometimes difficult for me, Grey Man. You see, nothing is hidden from me. When I meet someone for the first time I see all. Their lives, their memories, their angers and pains are all laid bare to me. I try to close myself to myriad images and emotions, but that is painful and exhausting. So, in the main, I absorb them. It is why I avoid crowds, for it is like being trapped under an avalanche of roaring emotion. So let me say again that I am sorry to have offended you. You have been most kind to me and my followers.’
Waylander spread his hands. ‘It is forgotten,’ he said.
‘That is most generous of you.’
‘And the matter you wished to speak of?’