‘It’s better than the man who owned it,’ he told her.
‘You knew him?’
‘Kreeg. A cross between a snake and a rat. Good Guild member, though. Could have been rich if he wasn’t such a bad gambler.’
‘He tried to kill my father – we don’t know why.’
Ralis said nothing. Miriel moved to the kitchen, returning with his tisane, which he sipped slowly. They ate in comfortable silence, the old man devouring three helpings of lion meat. Dipping a slab of freshly-baked bread into the rich gravy he looked up at Miriel and sighed. ‘They don’t eat as well as this in the palace at Drenan,’ he said.
‘You are a flatterer, Ralis,’ she chided him. ‘But I like it.’
Wandering to his pack he untied the flap and delved deep into the interior, coming up at last with a corked metal flask and three small silver cups. Returning to the table he filled the cups with amber liquid. ‘The taste of heaven,’ he said, savouring the moment.
Miriel lifted her cup and sipped the spirit. ‘It’s like swallowing fire,’ she said, reddening.
‘Yes. Good, isn’t it?’
‘Tell me about Kreeg.’
‘Not much to tell. He was from the south, a farmboy originally. Fought in the Vagrian Wars, and then joined Jonat for the rebellion. When Karnak smashed the rebel army Kreeg spent a year or two in Ventria. Mercenary, I think. He joined the Guild three years ago. Not one of their best, you understand, but good enough.’
‘Then someone paid him to kill my father?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
The old man shrugged. ‘Let’s wait until he gets back.’
‘You make it sound like a mystery.’
‘I just don’t like repeating myself. At my age time is precious. How much do you remember of your childhood?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, Dakeyras … where did you meet him?’ He could see that the question surprised her, and watched her expression change from open and friendly to guarded and wary.
‘He’s my father,’ she said softly.
‘No,’ he told her. ‘Your family were killed in a raid during the Vagrian Wars. And Dakeyras, riding with a man named Dardalion, found you and your sister … and a brother, I believe, in the care of a young woman.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Because of Kreeg,’ he said, refilling his cup.
‘I don’t understand.’
The voice of Dakeyras cut in from the doorway. ‘He means he knows who Kreeg was sent to kill.’ The tall man untied the thong of his black leather cloak and draped it over the chair. Taking up the third silver cup he tossed back the contents.
‘Fifteen thousand in gold,’ said Ralis. ‘Five for the Guild, ten for the man who brings your crossbow to the Citadel. There are said to be more than fifty men scouring the country for news of you. Morak the Ventrian is among them, as are Belash, Courail and Senta.’
‘I’ve heard of Morak and Courail,’ said Dakeyras.
‘Belash is Nadir and a knife-fighter. Senta is a swordsman paid to fight duels. He’s very good – old noble family.’
‘I expect there is also a large reward for information regarding my whereabouts,’ said Dakeyras softly.
‘I wouldn’t doubt it,’ said Ralis, ‘but then it would be a brave man who betrayed Waylander the Slayer.’
‘Are you a brave man?’ The words were spoken gently, but the undercurrent was tense and the old man found his stomach knotting.
‘More guts than sense,’ admitted Ralis, holding the man’s dark gaze.
Waylander smiled. ‘That’s as it should be,’ he said, and the moment passed.
‘What will we do?’ asked Miriel.
‘Prepare for a long winter,’ said Waylander.
*
Ralis was a light sleeper, and he heard the creaking of leather hinges as the main door opened. The old man yawned and swung his legs from the bed. Although it was almost dawn thin shafts of moonlight were still seeping through the cracks in the shutters of the window. He rose and stretched. The air was cool and fresh with the threat of approaching winter. Ralis shivered and pulled on his warm woollen leggings and tunic.
Opening his bedroom door he stepped into the main room and saw that someone had fanned the embers of last night’s fire, laying fresh kindling on the hungry flames. Waylander was a courteous host, for there would not normally have been a fire this early on an autumn day. Moving to the shuttered window he lifted the latch and pushed at the wooden frame. Outside the moon was fading in a greying sky, the stars retreating, the pale pink of the dawn showing above the eastern peaks.