‘What brings you to the steppes, Oxskull?’
‘I seek Kesa Khan of the Wolves.’
Kasai nodded. ‘His death has been long overdue.’
Waylander chuckled. ‘I am not here to kill him, but to help him survive.’
‘It cannot be true!’
‘I assure you that it is. My daughter and my friends are with him now – or so I hope.’
Kasai was amazed. ‘Why? What are the Wolves to you? We still talk of Kesa Khan’s magic and the werebeasts he sent to kill you. Why would you help him?’
‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ answered Waylander. ‘There is a man who serves the Emperor. He is the enemy I wish to see slain.’
‘Zhu Chao! May the gods curse his soul until the stars burn out! Aye, a good enemy, that one. But you are too late to help the Wolves. The Gothir have already begun their attack upon the mountain stronghold. There is no way through.’
‘I will find a way.’
Kasai nodded and drained the last of the spirit, refilling the goblet from a jug beside him. He offered it to Waylander, who drank sparingly. ‘My people are the Tall Spears. We are enemies of the Wolves. Lifelong – and before that. But I do not want to see the Gothir destroy them. I wish to be the man who drives a blade into Anshi Chen. I wish to cut the head from Belash. I wish to drag out the heart of Kesa Khan. Such pleasures are not for some round-eyed, stone-dwelling pig to enjoy.’
‘How many men do you have here?’
‘Fighting men? Six hundred.’
‘Perhaps you should consider aiding the Wolves.’
‘Pah! My tongue would turn black and all my ancestors turn their backs upon me when I entered the Vale of Rest. No, I shall not aid them, but I will aid you. I will give you food and, if you wish, a guide. There are other routes into the Mountains.’
‘I thank you, Kasai.’
‘It is nothing. If you do find Kesa Khan, tell him why I helped you.’
‘I’ll do that. Tell me, do you dream of the day the Uniter will come?’
‘Of course, what Nadir does not?’
‘How do you see him?’
‘He will be of the Tall Spears, that is certain.’
‘And how will he unite the Nadir?’
Kasai smiled. ‘Well, first he will obliterate the Wolves, and all other treacherous tribes.’
‘Suppose the Uniter is not of the Tall Spears. Suppose he is of the Wolves?’
‘Impossible.’
‘He’ll need to be a rare man,’ said Waylander.
‘Let’s drink to that,’ said Kasai, passing the goblet.
*
Wrapped in his cloak, his head resting on his saddle, Waylander lay on the rug, listening to the night winds howling outside the tent. On the far side of the brazier Kasai was sleeping, his two wives on either side of him, his children close by. Waylander was tired, but sleep would not come. Rolling on to his back he gazed up at the smoke drifting through the hole in the tent roof, watching the wind swirl it away. He could see three stars, high in the night sky. He closed his eyes.
And remembered the day he had fought to protect the Armour of Bronze. The Nadir had come for him, but these he had slain. Then the last of the wolf-beasts had stalked him. Two bolts through the brain had finally ended the terror. Wounded and alone he had dragged himself from the cave – only to face the Knights of the Brotherhood. These he could not defeat, but Durmast the giant, treacherous Durmast, had arrived to save him, giving his life for a man he had planned to betray.
Waylander sighed. So many dead. Durmast, Gellan, Danyal, Krylla … And always the wars – conquest and battle, defeat and despair. Where does it end, he thought. With the grave? Or do the battles go on?
Kasai was snoring now. Waylander heard him grunt as one of his wives nudged him. Opening his eyes he gazed across the tent. The brazier was burning low, a soft red glow filling the interior. Kasai had a family. He had made a gift to the future. He was loved.