Waylander 3 – Hero in the Shadows By David Gemmell

A second servant entered, bearing a tray on which sat a small silver tisane pot and a ceramic cup. Setting the tray by the bedside, the second servant moved to a large wardrobe, taking from it a heavy gown of yellow silk, beautifully embroidered with gold and blue songbirds. Matze Chai stood and stretched out his arms. The servant expertly slipped the gown over them, moving to the rear to button the upper portion of the garment, before attaching the lower section to ivory hooks at Matze Chai’s waist. Swinging the golden sash around his master’s waist, the servant tied it, then stepped back with a bow.

‘I shall take my tisane upon the balcony,’ said Matze Chai. Instantly the first servant moved to the curtains, drawing them aside. The second gathered up a wide-brimmed hat of artfully fashioned straw.

Matze Chai stepped out on to the balcony and sat down on a curved wooden bench, leaning his back against a large, embroidered cushion. The air was fresh and Matze believed he could detect salt in it. The light, however, was bright and unpleasant, and he gestured to the man holding the hat. He ran forward and placed it on Matze’s head, angling it so that his face was in partial shadow, before tying it under his chin.

The stone of the balcony was cold under the merchant’s feet. Glancing down, he wiggled his toes. Brief moments later one of the men knelt down and placed fur-lined slippers upon his feet.

Matze Chai sipped his tisane and decided that all was well with the world on this fine day. Waving his hand, he dismissed the servants and sat quietly in the morning sunshine. The breeze was fresh and cool, the sky a clear, cloudless blue.

He heard movement behind him, and the merest touch of irritation disturbed his tranquillity. Liu, the young captain of his guard, moved into sight and bowed deeply. He said nothing, waiting for his master’s permission to speak.

‘Well?’ asked Matze Chai.

‘The master of the house requests an audience, Lord. His servant, Omri, suggests that he could attend you presently.’

Matze Chai leant back against his cushion. For all that he was a round-eyed Gajin Waylander’s manners were perfect. ‘Convey to the servant that I would be honoured to entertain my old friend,’ he said.

Liu bowed again, but did not depart immediately. Irritation once more touched Matze Chai, but he did not show it. He looked quizzically at the young soldier.

‘One more matter, Lord, that you should be made aware of. There was an attempt on your . . . old friend’s life last night. At the ball. Two men with knives attacked him.’

Matze Chai gave the briefest of nods, then waved his hand to dismiss the soldier. Was there ever a time, he wondered, when someone was not attempting to kill Waylander? One would have thought they would have learnt by now. His cup was empty and he looked for a servant to refill it, then remembered he had dismissed them. And his golden bell was all the way across the room by the bedside. He sighed. Then, glancing round to see that he was not observed, filled the cup. Matze Chai smiled. To serve oneself was quite liberating. But not civilized, he chided himself. Even so his good mood was restored and he waited patiently for Waylander to arrive.

A different servant ushered him in, removed the pot of tisane and the empty cup, then departed without a word. Matze Chai rose from his chair and offered a deep bow to his client, who responded in similar fashion before seating himself.

‘It is good to see you, my friend,’ said Waylander. ‘I understand your journey was not without excitement.’

‘It was – regrettably – not as dull as one would have liked,’ agreed Matze Chai.

Waylander laughed. ‘You don’t change, Matze Chai,’ he said, ‘and I cannot tell you what a delight that is.’ The smile faded. ‘I apologize for asking you to make this journey, but I needed to see you.’

‘You are leaving Kydor,’ said Matze Chai. ‘I am indeed.’

‘Where to now? Ventria?’

Waylander shook his head. ‘Across the western ocean.’