‘It doesn’t surprise me. What does is that you and Morak do not travel together,’ said Angel. ‘You are two of a kind – the same easy smiles, the same sly wit.’
‘And there the resemblance ends,’ said Senta. ‘His heart is rotten, Angel, and his desires are vile. It hurts me that you would link us so.’ He glanced at Miriel. ‘This is very fine bread. My compliments.’
Miriel ignored him, but he seemed not to notice. ‘Lovely area this,’ he went on. ‘Close to the sea, and not yet plagued by people and their filth. One day I must find myself such a home in the mountains.’ He looked around him. ‘Well-built, too. A lot of love and effort.’ His eyes were drawn to the weapons on the wall. ‘That’s Kreeg’s crossbow, isn’t it? Well, well! His whore was missing him in Kasyra. Something tells me he won’t be going back to her.’
‘He was like you,’ said Miriel softly. ‘He thought it would be easy, but when you face Waylander the only easy part is the dying.’
Senta laughed. ‘Everyone dies, beauty. Everyone. And if he is useful with a sword it might be me.’
Now it was Angel who chuckled. ‘You are a strange man, Senta. What on earth makes you think Waylander will face you blade to blade? You won’t even see him. All you’ll feel is the bolt that cleaves into your heart. And you won’t feel that for very long.’
‘Well, that wouldn’t be very sporting, would it?’ countered Senta, his smile fading.
‘I don’t think he regards this as sport,’ said Angel.
‘How disappointing. Perhaps I misjudged him. From all I’ve heard he doesn’t seem to be a coward.’ He shrugged. ‘But then these stories do tend to become exaggerated, don’t they?’
‘You have a curious sense of what denotes cowardice,’ said Miriel. ‘When a snake comes into the house a man does not lie down on his belly to fight it fang to fang. He just stamps on its head, then throws the useless carcass out into the night. One does not deal with vermin in the way one deals with men!’
Senta clapped his hands, slowly and theatrically, but anger showed in his blue eyes.
‘Finish your breakfast,’ said Angel softly.
‘And then I am to leave, I suppose?’ Senta responded, slicing a section of meat then lancing it with his knife and raising it towards his mouth.
‘No, Senta, then you will die.’
The knife froze. Senta shook his head. ‘I’m not being paid to kill you, old man.’
‘Just as well,’ said Angel. ‘You wouldn’t be there to collect it. I’ll wait for you outside.’
The former gladiator stood and left the room. Senta glanced up at Miriel. ‘It’s a good breakfast. May I stay on for supper?’
‘Don’t kill him!’
‘What?’ Senta seemed genuinely surprised. ‘I have no choice, beauty. He has challenged me.’ He stared at her. ‘Are you and he …? No, surely not.’ He stood. ‘I’m sorry. Truly. I quite like the old boy.’
‘He’s not that old.’
‘He’s twice my age, Miriel, and as a swordsman that makes him older than the mountains.’
‘If you kill him you’ll have to kill me. I’ll come for you. I swear it.’
Senta sighed, then bowed. There was no hint of mockery in his eyes. Swinging on his heel the assassin stepped out into the light. Angel was standing some thirty feet from the door, sword in hand.
‘Arena rules?’ called Senta.
‘As you like.’
‘Are you sure about this, Angel? There is no need for us to fight. And you know well enough you will lose.’
‘Don’t tell me, boy, show me!’
Senta drew his sabre and advanced.
*
Waylander emerged from the trees and saw the two swordsmen circling one another.
‘Ho Angel!’ he called. The two warriors paused, glancing up towards him as he made his way down the slope, the stocky Nadir following. From Kalis’ description Waylander guessed the swordsman was Senta.
‘Leave him to me!’ said Angel, as the gap closed.
‘No one fights for me,’ replied Waylander, his eyes fixed on Senta, noting the man’s balance and his condescending smile. There was no fear here, only a cold confidence bordering on the arrogant. Waylander came closer. Still he had not drawn a weapon and he saw Senta’s eyes glance down at the scabbarded sword. ‘You are hunting me?’ asked Waylander, moving ever closer. Only a few paces separated them.