‘Robbers?’ sneered Morak. ‘Hell’s teeth! I’ve had lice with more brains than you! If it was robbers don’t you think a fighter like Kreeg would have had more wounds? Don’t you think there would have been a fight? Someone very skilful sent a missile through his eyeball. A man with rare talent is killed – that suggests to me he was slain by someone with more talent. Is my reasoning getting through to you?’
‘You think it was Waylander,’ muttered Wardal.
‘A giant leap of the imagination. Many congratulations. The question is, where in Hell’s name is he?’
‘Why should he be easy to find?’ asked Belash, suddenly. ‘He knows we are here.’
‘And what mighty spark of logic leads you to that conclusion?’
82
‘He killed Kreeg. He knows.’
Morak felt a chill breeze blowing and shivered. ‘Wardal, you and Tharic take the first watch.’
‘What are we watching for?’ enquired Tharic.
Morak closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘you could be watching for enormous elephants that will trample all over our supplies. But were I you, I would be alert for a tall man, dressed in black, who is rather good at sending sharp objects through eyeballs.’ At that moment a tall figure stepped from the undergrowth. Morak’s heart missed a beat, but then he recognised Baris. ‘The normal procedure is to shout “Hallo the camp”,’ he observed. ‘You took your time.’
The blond forester settled down by the fire. ‘Kasyra is not a small place, but I found the whore Kreeg was living with. She told him about a man called Dakeyras who lives near here. I’ve got directions.’
‘Wrong man,’ said Morak. ‘Wardal and Tharic already met him. What else did you find?’
‘Little of interest,’ answered Baris, pulling the remains of a loaf of bread from the pouch at his side. ‘By the way, how long has Angel been a member of the Guild?’
‘Angel? I’ve not heard that he is,’ said Morak. ‘Why?’
‘He was in Kasyra a week or so back. Tavern-keeper recognised him. Senta is there, too. He said to tell you that when he finds your body he’ll be sure to give it a fine burial.’
But Morak wasn’t listening. He laughed and shook his head. ‘Wardal, have you ever been to the arena?’
‘Aye. Saw Senta fight there. Beat a Vagrian called . . . called . . .’
‘Never mind! Did you ever see Angel fight?’
‘Oh yes. Tough. Won some money on him once.’
‘Would you remember his face at all?’
‘Red hair, wasn’t it?’ answered Wardal.
‘Correct, numbskull. Red hair. And a face his mother would disown. I wonder if the tiniest thought is trying to make its way through that mass of bone that houses your brain? If it is, do share it with us.’
Wardal sniffed loudly. ‘The man at the cabin!’
83
‘The man who said he was Dakeyras, yes,’ said Morak. ‘It was the right cabin, just the wrong man. Tomorrow you can return there. Take Bans and Tharic. No, that might not be enough. Jonas and Seeris as well. Kill Angel and bring the girl here.’
‘He’s a gladiator,’ objected Jonas, a stout balding warrior with a forked beard.
‘I didn’t say fight him,’ whispered Morak. ‘I said kill him.’
‘Wasn’t nothing about no gladiators,’ persisted Jonas. Tracking, you said. Find this Dakeyras. I’ve seen Angel fight as well. Don’t stop, does he? Stick him, cut him, hit him . . . still keeps going.’
‘Yes, yes, yes! I am sure he would be delighted to know you are among his greatest admirers. But he’s older now. He retired. Just walk in, engage him in conversation, then kill him. If that sounds a little too difficult for you, then head for Kasyra – and kiss goodbye to any thought of a share in ten thousand gold pieces.’
‘Why don’t you kill him?’ asked Jonas. ‘You’re the swordsman here.’
‘Are you suggesting that I am frightened of him?’ countered Morak, his voice ominously low.
‘No, not at all,’ answered Jonas, reddening. ‘We all know how . . . skilled you are. I just wondered, that’s all.’
‘Have you ever seen the nobles hunt, Jonas?’