‘That won’t take long. She’s a lovely girl, and I guess it will be good to know she’s safe like her sister.’
‘Her sister is dead,’ said Waylander, fighting to remain calm, his voice barely above a whisper. Once more Krylla’s face came back to him, and he felt a cold, berserk rage building. ‘That’s why they are hunting me,’ he went on. ‘Karnak’s son killed her. The Lord Protector paid the assassins because he fears I’ll hunt down the boy.’
‘Gods of Mercy! I didn’t know it was Krylla,’ said Angel. ‘There was a trial, but the victim was not even named. Bodalen was exiled for a year.’
‘A harsh punishment indeed.’
‘But you’re not going after him?’
Waylander took a deep calming breath. ‘I am heading north,’ he answered. ‘Travelling to Gothir.’
‘It’s probably wise,’ agreed Angel. ‘You cannot go against the whole Drenai army. But you do surprise me -1 thought you would have put vengeance above everything else.’
‘Perhaps age is making me mellow.’
Angel grinned. ‘You didn’t look too mellow when you downed Senta. And where in Hell’s name did you find that dog? It’s the ugliest beast I’ve ever seen. Look at those scars!’
‘Bear-fighter,’ said Waylander. ‘Retired – just like you.’
Senta, his nose swollen, his nostrils stained with blood, moved out into the sunlight, just as Angel knelt to pet the dog.
‘You know, Angel,’ said the swordsman, ‘the resemblance is striking. If your own mother were to appear in our midst she wouldn’t know which of you to call in for dinner.’
‘The nose is an improvement – and it’s bleeding again,’ replied Angel, turning away and reaching out to the hound. Its fangs showed and a low snarl sounded. Angel drew back and stood.
Senta sniffed and spat blood to the dust, then walked past the two men and retrieved the sabre that was still lying in the dust. With the weapon in his hand he strolled back to Waylander. ‘Mercy is a rare beast,’ he said. ‘You think it was wise to let me live?’
‘If it proves a mistake I’ll kill you,’ Waylander told him.
‘You are an unusual man. How did you know I wouldn’t gut you as soon as you closed in on me?’
Waylander shrugged. ‘I didn’t.’
The swordsman nodded. ‘I think I will travel with you,’ he said. ‘I heard you tell Angel you were heading north. I’ve always wanted to return to Gothir. I had some fine times there.’
‘I may not want your company,’ said Waylander.
‘I can see that might be so. But there was something else you told Angel that interested me greatly.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘You’re looking for a husband for Miriel.’
‘You know where I might find one?’
‘Very droll. I am a rich man, and not – despite your efforts – unhandsome. And my father continues to berate me for not supplying him with a grandson. I’ll take her off your hands.’
‘Shemak’s balls, but you’ve got nerve!’ stormed Angel.
‘I like a man with nerve,’ said Waylander. ‘I’ll think on it.’
‘You’re not serious!’ exclaimed Angel. ‘A few minutes ago this man was trying to kill you for money. He’s an assassin.’
‘Which of course puts me lower on the social scale than an arena-killer,’ observed Senta.
‘Madness!’ muttered Angel, stalking back into the cabin.
Senta sheathed his sabre. ‘Why are we heading north?’ he asked.
‘There’s someone I must find in Gulgothir.’
*
Miriel carried a bowl of heated water and a clean cloth to where Senta sat. She had not heard his conversation with her father, but she saw he now had his sabre once more. The blond warrior looked up through swollen eyes. He smiled. ‘Merciful care for the fallen hero?’
‘You are not a hero,’ she told him, dipping the cloth in the water and gently sponging away the blood staining Senta’s face. Reaching up he took hold of her wrist.
‘He stamped on my head, but he did not throw the useless carcass out into the forest.’
‘Be grateful for that,’ she said, pulling her hand free.
‘Interesting man. He read me well. He knew I wouldn’t kill him before he’d drawn a weapon.’