Elkin now lay unconscious in bed, struck down by a stroke. They would get no more help from him.
And, when the enemy attacked for a fourth time, Sarazin was sure that the Lesser Tower would fall.
Sarazin remembered what Lord Regan had told him so long ago in the Sunrise Gardens in Voice:
'Remember, we create ourselves. Always remember that. We have free will so we are entirely responsible for ourselves. Everything happens to us by our own choice. Never forget that.' He wondered. -Did I choose this? And realised that he had.
That was a bitter irony indeed. He now had everything he had once longed for, fought for, struggled for. He was ruler of his own kingdom, master of his own castle, head of his own army, liege-lord of valorous men. And this was going to prove his death. For he lacked the strength to hold it.
Thodric Jarl must have seen as much, otherwise why would the Rovac warrior have fled? Surely not just out of love for Jaluba.
– Though I once thought the world would have been well lost for such a woman.
True, Jarl had hated Elkin bitterly. But Sarazin doubted that either love or hate could have compelled him to flee.
– It was doom, that was what drove him. -He never swore himself to my service. My error. I never demanded an oath of loyalty. -But would he have given it had I demanded? Somehow, Sarazin doubted it.
The enemy would conquer then Sean Sarazin would die, his mother would die, his father would die, those who trusted him and honoured him would die. All dead, all slaughtered, all doomed. What was the alternative? There was none.
But a few could perhaps escape. Yes. A fighting retreat over the mountains might do it. Pursuit would be difficult. -Besides, it's me the enemy want. Sarazin thought it through.
At last, he realised he had no alternative. He sought out Heth, judging Heth to be the man to lead the retreat. Sarazin himself would stay, fighting a rearguard action.
– Fox and Farfalla at least may live. If they live, then not all is lost.
So Sarazin thought, trying to be brave. But when Heth came into his presence, Heth saw his despair at once. 'What now, my lord?' said Heth. 'The end,' said Sarazin.
Then, to his shame, burst into tears. Heth called for a little mulled wine and a little bread, and made Sarazin settle to eat and drink. Then Heth said:
You're tired, as are we all. For you, the fatigue must be worse, since these burdens have come upon you suddenly. Sleep, and you'll feel better on the morrow.' 'On the morrow I die,' said Sarazin. 'I'll tell you how.' Then he told Heth his plans.
'But this is terrible!' exclaimed Heth. 'We can't do that! We can't surrender, not just like that!' 'What do you suggest, then?' said Sarazin.
But Heth had no answers. While he had been at war for a long time, Heth was no military genius. Besides, what could even genius have done in their posi- tion? They had only held against the enemy before thanks to Elkin. Surely they could not hold without him.
'My lord,' said Heth, 'sleep, and surely you'll think better of it tomorrow. Surely victory will come to you, for you are, after all, of the Favoured Blood.'
'But I'm not!' cried Sarazin, anguished. 'I'm not royal,
I'm no prince, no child of the Blood. I'm but a peasant's bastard with pretensions above my station.' 'You're man enough for me,' said Heth. Which was a comfort, yes, good to hear, but:
'It's no good,' said Sarazin, miserably, tears again squeezing from his eyes. 'If only, oh… but it's no use. I only wish we had a real prince to lead us.'
'None could be better than you,' said Heth, trying to soothe him. 'What could others do that you have not?'
'No real prince would have ended up like this,' said Sarazin, in self disgust. 'Sitting bawling like a baby with the enemy without his gates.' 'What real princes have you met?' said Heth.
'Tarkal, that's one,' said Sarazin. 'Oh yes. But Douay was the greatest prince I ever met.' 'Douay?' said Heth. That's my family name.' Tours?' said Sarazin.
'Yes. I'm Heth Douay. It's a name common on Stokos. Was it someone from Stokos you met?'
'Oh no,' said Sarazin. This Douay was from the Scattered Empire, a seapower realm of the Central Ocean. Drake was his name.' 'Drake?' said Heth, startled. That means something to you?'
'In the language of Stokos it means pumpkin,' said Heth. 'It's short for Dreldragon.'
'Strange!' said Sarazin. This Douay I knew was also known as Lord Dreldragon. He was lord of the Gates.'
'Lord of the Gates?' said Heth. 'The gates of time? Of hell? Or what? Is this a god you speak of?'
'No,' said Sarazin. 'This is a man. The gates in ques- tion are those of Chenameg, where Drake Douay rules in grandeur,'
'This is passing strange,' said Heth, 'for I had a brother so called. I thought him dead years ago, yet perhaps…' You must think your brother dead still,' said Sarazin, 'for the lord of the Gates is not of Stokos but of a seapower empire, as I have told you. I met him first through a sad dispute over a bard.' 'You quarrelled for love of a singer?' said Heth.
'No,' said Sarazin. We disputed possession of a magical amulet which possessed the power of voices.'
'An amulet?' said Heth. Was it black, mayhap? A black as shiny as sea-washed shell with stars set upon it?' 'Yes!' said Sarazin, startled. 'And it could be made to speak, in a man's voice?' -Yes.'
'And this Drake was – what? Blond like me? But short?' 'Yes. You – you know him?'
'But of course,' said Heth. 'It's my brother, as I've told you already. Cheeky, was he? A devil with his tongue? A cocky young sod in trouble as much as out of it?'
'He was a master swordsman,' said Sarazin. 'More than my match, that's for certain.'
'How else would he have survived for so long?' said Heth. 'Or has he died?'
'He was alive when I left him,' said Sarazin, 'and I expect him to be so still.'
Then Heth finally gave way to emotion, and whooped with joy, and cried: 'He livesl He lives! My brother lives!'
He grinned, whooped again, punched left hand with right fist, then jigged around on the spot slapping his thighs, then embraced Sarazin and hugged him tight. Then kissed him.
'Man, this is great news!' said Heth. T)rake lives! My drunken bum of a brother is alive, alive!'
Sarazin extricated himself from Heth's grasp then said, slowly:
'I think I may have to disappoint you yet. What makes you so sure your brother lives?'
'Name, description and bard' said Heth. 'My brother showed me such a charm when we met on the Greater
Teeth at a time when King Tor was leagued with pirates. Depending on his mood, he claimed he won the thing from the dragon Bel, or from Guardian Machines in ccmbat.' 'When was this?' said Sarazin.
'Why, it was well back in time,' said Heth. 'Before the alliance of the pirates with Elkor Alish. The bard proves all.'
The more certain Heth became, the more reluctant Sarazin was to concede him victory. Surely it could not be true. Could it? Sean Sarazin had humbled him- self before Drake Douay at the Gates of Chenameg. Surely it was a prince of the Favoured Blood he had knelt before. Not a – a bum. A lawless pirate. The brother of a thick-witted peasant from Stokos.
'Possession of a bard proves nothing,' said Sarazin firmly, 'for there are many such in the world, though some think in ignorance that there is but one.'
'The bard that Drake carried,' said Heth, 'was marked by a knife cut. That was where it saved his life in a bar brawl in Narba, if we can believe what he says.' The final detail. The truth could no longer be denied.
'It was him,' said Sarazin heavily. 'He lives now as I have said, ruling the Gates of Chenameg. Was he… was he really a pirate?'
'Oh, a pirate, yes,' said Heth. 'Pirate, drunkard, lecher, brawler, gambler, liar, thief. I love him, you understand, but such is brotherhood. As a stranger I might find him hard to bear.'
'And I wanted to swear myself to his service!' said Sarazin, shocked at the way Douay had fooled him.
You see your error, do you?' said Heth. 'Oh, he must have told you a pretty story!' 'Gahl' said Sarazin in disgust.
