‘No.’
‘There are peaks there which have never been climbed; they are bathed in mist for nine months of the year. I wanted to build a home near one of those peaks – there is a glen, sheltered, where horses could be raised. I know about horses. I like horses.’
‘I’m glad to hear there’s something you like.’
‘I like a lot of things, Sarvaj. But not many people.’
‘Gellan liked you.’
‘Stop it! I don’t want to hear any more about Gellan. You understand?’
‘I don’t think that I do.’
‘Because I care. Does that satisfy you? Is that what you wanted to hear? I am sorry that he’s gone. There! And … I don’t want to talk about it.’
Sarvaj removed his helmet and leaned back against the cold stone. ‘I had a dream once too. There was a girl back in Drenan – bright, talented and available. Her father owned a fleet of traders which sailed from Mashrapur to the east. I was going to marry her and become a merchant.’
‘What happened?’
‘She married someone else.’
‘Did she not love you?’
‘She said she did.’
‘You were better off without her.’
Sarvaj chuckled. ‘Does this look like better off?’
‘At least you are among friends,’ said Jonat, extending his hand. Sarvaj took it.
‘I always wanted to die among friends.’
‘Well, that is one ambition you’ll achieve.
Danyal had been riding for four days across rough open country. In that time she had seen no one but now, as she rode through thick forest, she knew she was not alone. In the undergrowth to her right she had seen a dark shadow, moving from the thick cover and darting between the trees.
She had spurred her horse away, the pack pony following.
But still the shadower stayed in touch. She rarely caught more than a glimpse of him, but he moved with great speed and supernatural silence.
The light was fading and Danyal’s fears grew. Her mouth was dry, but her hands were slick with sweat. She wished Waylander were here – or even Durmast.
Momentarily her fear eased as her last conversation with Durmast rose in her mind.
When they had travelled for some five miles, they had come across the party of warriors in black armour. Durmast had cursed and reached for his battleaxe, but they had ridden by with scarcely a glance at the two travellers.
Durmast’s anger had been a sight to behold.
‘They ignored me,’ he had said.
‘I’m glad,’ she had told him. ‘Did you want to fight them?’
They were Brotherhood warriors seeking the Armour. They can read minds and they know we have it.’
‘Then why did they not take it?’
He had dismounted and walked to a nearby rock where he sat and stared at the now distant mountain of Raboas.
Danyal joined him. ‘We cannot stay here. Waylander is risking his life to give us time.’
‘They knew,’ said Durmast.
‘Knew what?’
‘They knew my thoughts.’
‘I do not understand you.’
‘You know what I am, Danyal … what I have been. There is no real strength in me except what I have in the muscles of this over-large body. I am a wretch, always have been. Take the Armour and go-‘
‘And what will you do?’
‘I’ll travel east – maybe go to Ventria. They say it is a rare experience to view the Opal Mountains in winter.’
‘I cannot get through alone.’
‘You don’t understand, do you? I’ll betray you, Danyal, and steal the Armour. It’s worth a fortune.’
‘You gave your word.’
‘My word isn’t worth pig-droppings.’
‘You are going back to help Waylander.’
Durmast laughed. ‘Do I look stupid? That would be the act of a madman. Go on. Ride! Go before I change my mind.’
As the days passed Danyal had hoped to see Waylander riding the back trail. She would not accept that he might be dead – could not accept it. He was strong. Invincible. No one could bring him down. She remembered the day when he had stood against the warriors in the forest. One man standing strong in the fading light, the red glow all around him. And he had won. He always won – he could not be dead.