‘Aren’t those people Nadir?’ asked Danyal, pointing to a group of men sitting beside the jetty.
‘No. They are Notas – no tribe. Outcasts originally, now they farm and ply the river for trade and the Nadir come to them for iron tools and weapons, blankets and the like.’
‘Are you known here?’
‘I am known in most places, Danyal.’
Together they rode into the town, where they tied their horses to a hitching rail outside the inn. The inside was dimly lit and smelled of sweat, stale beer and food swimming in grease. Danyal moved to a table by a shuttered window; lifting the bar, she pushed the shutters open, rapping them firmly into the back of a man standing outside.
‘You clumsy cow!’ he shouted. Danyal turned away from him and sat down, but when he stormed into the inn, still shouting, she stood and drew her sword. The man stopped in his tracks as she advanced on him. He was stocky and dressed in a fur jacket with a thick black belt from which hung two long knives.
‘Go away or I’ll kill you,’ snarled Danyal.
Durmast appeared behind the man and, grabbing his belt from the back, lifted him from his feet and carried him past Danyal.
‘You heard the lady,’ said Durmast. ‘Go away!’ Twisting, he hurled the man through the open window, watching in satisfaction as he crashed into the dust several feet beyond the wooden walkway. Then he turned to Danyal with a broad grin on his wide face.
‘I see you are maintaining your reputation for sweetness.’
‘I didn’t need your help.’
‘I am aware of that. I was doing him a favour. If he was lucky you would merely have stabbed him, but you might have lost your temper and used your acid tongue and he would never have recovered from that.’
‘That’s not very funny.’
‘It depends on your standpoint. I have booked us passage on a sailing-boat which leaves tomorrow at mid-morning. I have also booked us a room … with two beds,’ he added pointedly.
16
Butaso sat within his tent, gazing sullenly at the ancient shaman squatting before him. The old man spread out a section of tanned goatskin on the earth and casually tossed a dozen knuckle bones on to it. The bones had been shaped into rough cubes and strange symbols had been etched on each side. For a while the shaman stared at the bones – then he looked up, his dark slanted eyes burning with malicious humour.
‘Your treachery has killed you, Butaso,’ he said.
‘Speak plainly.’
‘Is that not plain enough? You are doomed. Even now a dark shadow hovers over your soul.’
‘I am as strong as ever,’ said Butaso, lurching to his feet. ‘Nothing can harm me.’
‘Why did you break your word to Ice-eyes?’
‘I had a vision. I have many visions. The Chaos Spirit is with me – he guides me.’
‘The Spirit of Dark Deeds is his Nadir name, Butaso. Why do you not use it? He is a deceiver.’
‘So you say, old man. But he has brought me power and wealth, and many wives.’
‘He has brought you death. What did he require of you?’
To destroy the wagons of Ice-eyes.’
‘Yet Ice-eyes lives. As does his friend, the Soul Stealer.’
‘What is that to me?’
‘Think you that I have no powers? Foolish mortal! Since the Soul Stealer filled your heart with fear that day, giving you your life, you have burned with the desire for vengeance. Now you have killed his friends and he hunts you. Do you not understand?’
‘I understand that I have a hundred men scouring the Steppes for him. They will bring me his head by dawn.’
‘This man is the prince of killers. He will evade your hunters.’
‘That would please you, would it not, Kesa Khan? You have always hated me.’
‘Your ego is bloated, Butaso. I do not hate you, I despise you – but that is neither here nor there This man must be stopped.’
‘You would help me?’
‘He is a danger to future Nadir generations. He seeks the Armour of Bronze, the Nadir Bane; he must not live to fulfil his quest.’