‘Perhaps,’ admitted Waylander. ‘How can I help her?’
‘You can’t.’
‘But you could.’
‘Yes. But why would I?’
Waylander threw a fresh chunk of wood to the coals, remaining silent as the first yellow flames licked at the bark. His dark gaze swung to Angel. ‘I am a rich man, Caridris. I will pay ten thousand in gold.’
‘I notice you don’t live in a palace,’ remarked Angel.
‘I choose to live here. I have merchants looking after my investments. I will give you a letter to one of them in Drenan. He will pay you.’
‘Even after you are dead?’
‘Even then.’
‘I don’t intend to fight for you,’ said Angel. ‘Understand? I will be a tutor to your daughter, but that is all.’
‘I need no one to fight for me,’ snapped Waylander. ‘Not now. Not ever.’
Angel nodded. ‘I accept your offer. I will stay and teach her, but only so long as I believe she is learning. When the day comes – as it will – when I can teach her no more, or she cannot learn, then I leave. Is that agreeable?’
‘It is.’ Waylander rose and moved to the rear wall. Angel watched him press his palm against a flat stone, then reach inside a hidden compartment. Waylander turned and tossed a heavy pouch across the room. Angel caught it, and heard the chink of metal within. ‘There is a part-payment,’ said Waylander.
‘How much?’
‘Fifty gold Raq.’
‘I’d have undertaken the task for this alone. Why pay so much more?’
‘You tell me?’ countered Waylander.
‘You set the price at the same level as the hunt-geld upon you. You are removing temptation from my path.’
“That is true, Caridris. But not the whole truth.’
‘And what is the whole truth?’
‘Danyal was fond of you,’ replied Waylander, rising to his feet. ‘And I wouldn’t want to kill you. Now I’ll bid you goodnight.’
*
Waylander found sleep elusive, but he lay still, eyes closed, resting his body. Tomorrow he would run again, building his strength and stamina, preparing for the day when the assassins would come.
He was pleased Angel had chosen to stay. He would be good for Miriel, and when the killers finally tracked him down he would ask the gladiator to take the girl to Drenan. Once there she would inherit all his wealth, choose a husband and enjoy a life free from peril.
Slowly he relaxed and faded into dreams.
Danyal was beside him. They were riding by a lakeside, and the sun was bright in a clear blue sky.
‘I’ll race you to the meadow,’ she shouted, digging her heels into the grey mare’s flanks.
‘No!’ he shouted, his panic growing. But she rode away. He saw the horse stumble and fall, watched as it rolled across Danyal, the pommel of the saddle crushing her chest. ‘No!’ he screamed again, waking, his body bathed in sweat.
All was silent. He shivered. His hands were trembling and he rose from the bed and poured himself a goblet of water. Together he and Danyal had crossed a war-torn land, enemies all around them. Werebeasts had hunted them, Nadir warriors had tracked them. But they had survived. Yet in peace-time, beside a still lake, Danyal had died.
Forcing back the memories he focused instead upon the dangers he faced, and how best to tackle them. Fear settled upon him. He knew of Morak. The man was a torturer who revelled in the pain of others – unhinged, perhaps even insane, yet he never failed. Belash was unknown to him, but he was Nadir, and that meant he would be a fearless fighter. A warrior race, the Nadir had little time for weaklings. Constantly at war the tribesmen fought one another with pitiless ferocity, and only the very strong survived to manhood.
Senta, Courail, Morak, Belash … how many more? And who had paid them? The last question he pushed aside. It didn’t matter. Once you have killed the hunters you can find out, he told himself.
Once you have killed the hunters …
A great weariness of spirit settled upon him. Taking up his tinder-box he lifted a bronze lantern from the hook on the wall above his bed and struck a flame, holding it to the wick. A golden light flickered. Rehanging the lantern, Waylander sat down upon the bed and gazed at his hands.