‘You realise I am holding your life in the palm of my hand?’
‘I do not care, general. That is the simple beauty of this quest. I do not care if it is successful – and I care even less about threats to my life. I have nothing to live for, my blood runs in no living thing. Can you understand that?’
‘So I cannot tempt you with riches or with threats?’
That is true. It makes a nonsense of my reputation, does it not?’
‘Is there anything I can do to help you with your quest?’
‘That is a somewhat abrupt change of stance, general.’
‘I am a realist. I know when to walk away. If I cannot have the Armour, then Egel is the next best thing for the Drenai. So ask. Anything you require?’
‘I require nothing. I have funds enough in Skarta.’
‘But surely you cannot intend to go alone?’
‘Ideally I would like to take an army – but short of that, one man has more chance of success.’
‘What of Dardalion?’
‘His destiny lies elsewhere. He can, and will, prove useful to you.’
‘How soon do you plan to leave?’
‘Soon.’
‘Still you do not trust me?’
‘I trust no one, general. Trust implies need, need implies caring.’
‘And you care for nothing? Not even the woman and the children?’
‘I care for nothing.’
‘I read men as other men read tracks. You are an open book to me, Waylander, and I think you are lying – as you lied when I asked about Kaem’s son. But we will let it lie; it matters not a whit, except to you. I will let you sleep now.’
The huge general pushed himself to his feet and stepped out into the night. The rain had stopped. Karnak stretched his back and moved off along the column, flanked by his two bodyguards.
‘What do you make of him, Ris?’ he asked the taller of the two.
‘I don’t know, general. They say he fought well at Masin. He’s steady. Cool.’
‘But would you trust him?’
‘I think I would. I would certainly sooner trust him than fight him.’
‘Well said.’
‘I do have a question, sir, if I may?’
‘Gods, man, you don’t have to ask. Go ahead.’
‘All that about the Armour. What would you do with it?’
‘I would have sent it to Egel.’
‘I do not understand. That is where he plans to take it.’
‘All life is a riddle, my friend,’ said Karnak.
10
The town of Skarta sprawled across a clearing between two hills in the south-west of Skultik. There were no walls around it, though hastily constructed defences were in evidence – loosely packed barriers of local rock built behind deep ditches. Soldiers were at work everywhere, increasing the height of the barricades or filling in the outfacing windows of perimeter homes.
But all work ceased as Karnak, now at the head of the column, led the wagons into the town.
‘Welcome back, general!’ shouted one man, sitting back on the wall he was building.
‘Meat tonight. How does that sound?’ yelled Karnak.
Back at the rear of the column Waylander rode with Dardalion.
‘Another great Karnak victory,’ observed Waylander. ‘See how the crowds flock to him! You would think he defended Masin himself. Where is Gellan in this moment of triumph?’
‘Why do you not like him?’ asked Dardalion.
‘I do not dislike him. But he is a poseur.’
‘Do you not think he needs to be? He has a demoralised army – a force in need of heroes.’
‘Perhaps.’ Waylander cast his eyes over the defences. They were well planned, the ditches deep enough to prevent a force of horsemen from charging the town and the walls strategically placed to allow archers to inflict heavy losses on an attacking army. But they were useless in any long-term encounter, for they were neither high nor strong. Nor were they linked. It was not possible to turn Skarta into a fortress, and Waylander guessed the defences were more for the town’s morale than for any genuine attempt to fight the Vagrians.
Once through the outer defences, the wagons pulled into the centre of Skultik. The buildings were mainly of white stone, hewn from the Delnoch mountains to the north. Mostly single-storey dwellings, the town was built around an old fort villa at the centre which now was the Hall of Council and Egel’s headquarters.