‘Let us find out,’ said Waylander, tugging on his boots.
‘Might I suggest a shave first, sir?’ offered Omri.
Waylander rubbed a hand over the black and silver bristles on his chin. ‘Doesn’t pay to keep a duke waiting,’ he said, with a smile.
The two men strolled up the terrace steps side by side. ‘Mendyr Syn said to tell you that the Chiatze warrior is sleeping more easily now. His heartbeat has steadied, and the wound is healing.’
‘Good. He is a brave man.’
‘Might I enquire how he came by the wound?’ asked Omri.
Waylander glanced at the man, and saw the fear in his eyes. ‘He was bitten by a large hound.’
‘I see. The servants are all talking about a massacre in the woods by the lake. Apparently the Duke came upon the scene, and is now leading a company of soldiers to investigate.’
‘Is that all the servants are saying?’ asked Waylander, as they mounted the steps.
‘No, sir. They are saying that there are demons abroad in the land. Is it true?’
‘Yes,’ said Waylander. ‘It is true.’
Omri held his hand over his chest, made the Sign of the Protective Horn, and asked no more questions.
‘Have you ever met the Duke?’ Waylander asked Omri.
‘Yes, sir. Three times.’
‘Tell me of him.’
‘He is a powerful man, both in mind and in body. He is a good ruler, fair and not capricious. He was originally of House Kilraith, but once he became Duke he renounced, as is the custom, all claims to leadership of Kilraith, the title passing to Aric. He is married to a Drenai princess and has several children, but only one son. The marriage is said to be happy.’
‘A long time since I heard the words Drenai princess,’ said Waylander. ‘There are no kings in Drenan now.’
‘No, sir, not now,’ agreed Omri. ‘The Duke’s wife, Aldania, was the sister of King Niallad. He was murdered by a foul assassin just before the Vagrian War. After the war, so the story goes, the despot Karnak refused to allow her to come home. He forfeited all her estates and monies and issued a decree of banishment. So she married Elphons and came to Kydor.’
They reached the entrance hall. Beyond the double doors, Waylander could see horses and men waiting in the sunshine. Ordering Omri to organize refreshments for the riders, he walked into the long reception room. Lord Aric was there, wearing breastplate and helm. The black-bearded magicker Eldicar Manushan was standing by the far wall, his blond page beside him. A youth, dressed in dark riding clothes, and wearing a chainmail shoulder guard, was standing close by. His face was familiar, thought Waylander. He felt a small knot of tension form in his belly as he realized why. This was the grandson of Orien, and the nephew of Niallad, the Drenai king. For a moment only, Waylander saw again the tortured features of the dying monarch. Pushing the memory away he focused on the heavy-set man sprawled in the wide leather chair. The Duke was powerfully built, with great breadth of shoulder and massive forearms. He glanced up at Waylander, his cold eyes locking to the Grey Man’s dark gaze.
Waylander offered the seated man a bow. ‘Good morning, my lord, and welcome to my home.’
The Duke nodded curtly, and beckoned Waylander to the seat opposite.
‘The day before yesterday,’ said the Duke, ‘some forty wagoners and their families were murdered less than two hours’ ride from here.’
‘I know,’ said Waylander. ‘I rode over the ground late yesterday.’
‘Then you will also know that the killers were . . . shall we say? . . . not of this world?’
Waylander nodded. ‘They were demons. There were some thirty of them. They move upright and the distance between the tracks suggests that the smallest is around eight feet tall.’
‘It is my intention to find their lair and destroy them,’ said the Duke.
‘You will not find it, my lord.’
‘And why is that?’
‘I followed the tracks. The demons appeared in a circle some two hundred paces from the wagons. They disappeared in another circle, taking the bodies with them.’