The voice of Kesa Khan boomed inside her mind, causing her to reel back. ‘Now you may come to me,’ he said.
‘Can I trust this Kesa Khan?’ she asked Belash.
‘Does he say that you can?’ he answered.
‘Yes.’
‘Then obey him,’ advised the Nadir. Miriel did not rely on the words, but read the images beyond them. Belash feared Kesa Khan, but there was no doubt that he also admired him, and would trust him with his life.
Miriel lay back and let her spirit drift clear. Instantly she was swept into a bewildering maze of light and colour. Her senses reeled and she lost control of her flight, spinning wildly through a thousand bright rainbows and into a darkness deeper than death. But before fear could turn to panic the darkness lifted, and she found herself sitting by a lakeside village. There were houses here,
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rough-crafted but secure against the winter wind and snow. Children were playing at the water’s edge, and she recognised herself and Krylla. Sitting beside them on an upturned boat was a man, tall and slim, with wide staring eyes and tightly curled hair.
MiriePs heart leapt, and for the first time in twelve years she remembered her real father’s face. This was the winter just before the Vagrians had invaded, just before her parents and all her friends had been butchered. It was a peaceful time, full of quiet joy.
‘Are you comfortable with this illusion?’ asked the wizened old man sitting beside her.
‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘Very.’ She turned her attention to him. He was no more than four and a half feet tall, bird-boned ribs pressing against the taut skin of his chest. His head was too large for his body and his wispy hair hung lank to his shoulders. His two front teeth were missing and his words were sibilant as a result. He was wearing ragged leggings and knee-length moccasins tied with strips of black leather.
‘I am Kesa Khan.’
‘That means nothing to me.’
‘It will,’ he assured her. ‘We share the same enemy. Zhu Chao.’ He almost spat the name.
‘I do not know this man.’
‘He sent the Dark Knights to kill your father, just as he sends the Gothir army to wipe out my people. And you do know him, Miriel. Look.’ The scene flickered, the village disappearing. Now they sat on a high wall overlooking a flower garden. A man sat there, his robes dark, his hair waxed to his head, his sideburns braided and hanging to his chin. Miriel tensed. This was the scaled hunter who had tried to capture her and Krylla five years ago, before the silver knight rescued them. But here he had no scales. He was merely a man sitting in a garden.
‘Do not be misled,’ warned Kesa Khan. ‘You are gazing upon evil.’
‘Why does he seek to kill my … father?’ She hesitated as she spoke, the image of her real father strong in her mind.
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‘Bodalen serves him. He thought it would be a simple matter to hunt down Waylander and slay him. Then he could have returned Bodalen to the Drenai, awaiting the moment the son betrayed the father.’ The old man chuckled, the sound dry and unpleasant. ‘He should have known Waylander as I knew him. Ha! I tried to hunt him down once. I sent six great merged beasts to destroy him, and twenty hunters of rare skill. None survived. He has a gift for death.’
‘You are my father’s enemy?’
‘Not now!’ he assured her. ‘Now I wish him for a friend.’
‘Why?’
‘Because my people are in peril. You can have no conception of what it is to live under the Gothir yoke. We have no rights under their laws. We can be hunted down like vermin. No one will raise a hand to object – that is bad enough. But now Zhu Chao has convinced the Emperor that my tribe – the oldest of the Tent-people – needs to be eradicated. Exterminated! Soon the soldiers will march against us.’
‘How can my father help you? He is only one man.’
‘He is the Dragon Shadow, the hope of my people. And he has with him the White Tiger in the Night and old Hard-to-kill. Also there is Senta. And, more importantly perhaps, there is you.’