decaying under the old emperor, and the only chance to resurrect her greatness was by war. Yes, thought Shabag, the Naashanites will think they have won, and I will indeed be a vassal king. But not for long.
Not for long…
“Excuse me, sir,” said an officer and Shabag turned to the man.
“Yes?”
“A ship has left Capalis. It is heading north along the coast. There are quite a number of men aboard.”
Shabag swore. “Gorben has fled,” he announced. “He saw our giants and realised he could not win.” He felt a sick sense of disappointment, for he had been anticipating tomorrow with great expectation. He turned his eyes towards the distant walls, half expecting to see the Herald of Surrender. “I shall be in my tent. When they send for terms wake me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He strode through the camp, his anger mounting. Now some whore-born corsair would capture Gorben, maybe even kill him. Shabag glanced up at the darkening sky. I’d give my soul to have Gorben before me!” he said.
But sleep would not come and Shabag wished he had brought the Datian slave girl with him. Young innocent, and exquisitely compliant, she would have brought him sleep and sweet dreams.
He rose from his bed and lit two lanterns. Gorben’s escape - if he managed to avoid the corsairs - would prolong the war. But only by a few months, reasoned Shabag. Capalis would be his by tomorrow, and after that Ectanis would fall. Gorben would be forced to fall back into the mountains, throwing himself upon the mercy of the wild tribes who inhabited them. It would take time to hunt him down, but not too much. And the hunt might afford amusement during the bleak winter months.
He thought of his palace in Resha, deciding that after organising the surrender of Capalis he would return home for a rest. Shabag pictured the comforts of Resha, the theatres, the arena and the gardens. By now the flowering cherry trees would be in bloom by the lake, dropping their petals to the crystal waters, the sweet scent filling the air.
Was it only a month since he had sat by the lake with Darishan beside him, sunlight gleaming upon his braided silver hair?
“Why do you wear those gloves, cousin?” Darishan had asked, tossing a pebble into the water. A large golden fish flicked its tail at the sudden disturbance, then vanished into the depths.
“I like the feel of them,” answered Shabag irritated. “But I did not come here to discuss matters sartorial.”
Darishan chuckled. “Always so serious? We are on the verge of victory.”
“You said that half a year ago,” Shabag pointed out.
“And I was correct then. It is like a lion hunt, cousin. While he is in the dense undergrowth he has a chance, but once you have him on open ground, heading into the mountains, it is only a matter of time before he runs out of strength. Gorben is running out of strength and gold.”
“He still has three armies.”
“He began with seven. Two of them are now under my command. One is under yours, and one has been destroyed. Come, cousin, why the gloom?”
Shabag shrugged. “I want to see an end to the war, so I can begin to rebuild.”
“I? Surely you mean we?
“A slip of the tongue, cousin,” said Shabag swiftly, forcing a smile. Darishan leaned back on the marble seat and idly twisted one of his braids. Though not yet forty his hair was startlingly pale, silver and white, and braided with wires of gold and copper.
“Do not betray me, Shabag,” he warned. “You will not be able to defeat the Naashanites alone.”
“A ridiculous thought, Darishan. We are of the same blood - and we are friends.”
Darishan’s cold eyes held to Shabag’s gaze, then he too smiled. “Yes,” he whispered, “friends and cousins. I wonder where our cousin - and former friend - Gorben is hiding today.”
Shabag reddened. “He was never my friend. I do not betray my friends. Such thoughts are unworthy of you.”
“Indeed, you are right,” agreed Darishan, rising. “I must leave for Ectanis. Shall we have a small wager as to which of us conquers first?”
“Why not? A thousand in gold that Capalis falls before Ectanis.”
“A thousand - plus the Datian slave girl?”
“Agreed,” said Shabag, masking his irritation. “Take care, cousin.” The men shook hands.
“I shall.” The silver-haired Darishan swung away, then glanced back over his shoulder. “By the way, did you see the wench?”
“Yes, but she told me little of use. I think Kabuchek was swindled.”
“That may be true, but she saved him from the sharks and predicted a ship would come. She also told me where to find the opal brooch I lost three years ago. What did she tell you?”
Shabag shrugged. “She talked of my past, which was interesting, but then she could easily have been schooled by Kabuchek. When I asked her about the coming campaign she closed her eyes and took hold of my hand. She held it for maybe three heartbeats, then pulled away and said she could tell me nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nothing that made any sense. She said… ‘He is coming!’ She seemed both elated and yet, moments later,
