whether Ilmarec is really against us, whether he has Kathea, whether he has these Elder World weapons. Once we have established the facts of the matter we can come up with a plan for victory.”
“Victory, Lord Azaar?” Xeno asked.
“Victory, Colonel. There must be things Ilmarec wants and he must know that he cannot defy the will of Queen Arielle forever. The facts of geography are on our side. His lands are much closer to our borders than those of the Dark Empire’s. We can bring enormous force to bear if need be. And there are more ways of taking a tower than by storm.”
Some of the officers were nodding agreement. There were always some who would, Sardec thought. They doubtless thought currying favour with the commander was the quickest way to promotion and power. Xeno was not so easily daunted.
“I doubt Lord Ilmarec is less familiar with the facts of geography than we are, my Lord,” he said. “He is probably placing more faith in chronography. He does not have to hold us off forever, only until Khaldarus is on the throne and the Dark Empire throws its full force against us. We have fought that war before, sir, and this time there is no Koth to stand as a buffer between us and them.”
“You are correct, Colonel,” said Azaar. “Time presses so we should be about our business. I wish to send Lieutenant Sardec as an emissary to Lord Ilmarec to open negotiations with him.”
“With your permission, I would like to accompany the Lieutenant,” said Lady Asea. “I know Lord Ilmarec. We were friends once. And I would like to study the Tower. There is something odd going on with the flows of magic in this area, and I suspect it is the nexus of the problem.”
Azaar looked at her for a moment, and Sardec knew he was considering the risks. Asea was the most powerful sorcerer in his army. Losing her would be as big a blow as losing a battery of artillery.
“Are you sure you will be safe?” he asked.
“I will have a strong escort I am sure. Lieutenant Sardec and I have been through some dangerous situations before and I have every faith in him.”
Sardec just looked at her. The last time he had been in a dangerous situation with Lady Asea he had lost his hand, and damn near his life.
“Very well,” said Lord Azaar. “We shall discuss the details later.”
What was the witch up to this time, Sardec wondered? He wondered until the staff meeting ended.
Rik watched the new recruits being sworn in. They stood in a long line in front of the table before which the Sergeant Major stood, and one by one advanced, placed their hand on a stone carved with Fyel, the Elder Sign of Faith, swore the oath and took the Queen’s silver. Their names were inscribed in the regimental register and they marched off. This evening they were soldiers in the army they had been fighting this morning.
“Most of those bastards will probably desert afore they hear their first shot fired in anger,” said the Barbarian.
“True,” said Rik. “But some of them won’t. Some of them will stay and make good soldiers. Anyway, it’s not our problem, is it?”
“Never a truer word spoken, Halfbreed,” said Weasel.
“Wonder when we will be heading on to Morven?” said Barbarian. “I could do with seeing a proper town and the inside of a proper tavern.”
“No idea,” said Weasel. “You’d think it’d be soon, but I heard Lord Ilmarec has turned against us and that Dark Empire troops are already in town.”
“Something is going on,” said Handsome Jan, breaking off from studying his profile in his little shard of mirror. “Nobody expected to be fighting so soon, did they? How did the bloody Purples get here so fast, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“I’m sure General Azaar will be over to explain it to you himself when he finds out about your displeasure at being kept in the dark,” said Weasel.
“Ha-bloody-ha. Hey, Halfbreed, isn’t that your girl?”
Halfbreed looked over and saw Rena, dark haired and beautiful as ever, walking into the camp, accompanied by two others. His heart skipped a beat. His mouth suddenly felt dry. He had not expected to ever see her again.
“She’s not my girl,” he said sourly.
Chapter Eight
Rik fought down the urge to slide away and hide out somewhere. He felt embarrassed and confused as well as afraid and angry. There was no reason he should feel this way. Rena was the one who had behaved badly. She was the one who had gone off with Lieutenant Sardec. Anyway, she was just a girl with whom he had a fling with for a couple of days a few months ago and had not seen since. He told himself all of these things, and none of them made the slightest bit of difference.
“I think she’s seen you, Halfbreed,” said Weasel, smirking. Rik remembered spending a long drunken evening whining to him about the business before the company had ventured into Deep Achenar. He had hoped that was forgotten. He should have remembered that in the Forager’s world nothing was ever forgotten. It was merely buried deep, to be dug up and used to make fun of you when needed.
“Go talk to the girl, Halfbreed,” said the Barbarian. “She looks as if she wants to talk to you.”
Rena smiled and waved and looked very happy, which rather surprised Rik, given the sullen circumstances under which they had last met.
“Probably wants something,” said Weasel. “Women always do.”
“Usually it's my manly body,” said the Barbarian. “And who can blame them?”
“Better talk to her before she throws herself at our Northern friend here,” said Weasel. “Sorry! Did I touch a raw nerve there?”
“You’re a nasty man,” said Rik.
“It was my upbringing,” Weasel said. “A cruel childhood followed by a lifetime of soldiering turned me into the miserable specimen I am today.”
“You say that as if you are proud of it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Rena and her friends were walking towards them. If he didn’t want the lads standing around and eavesdropping so they could joke about it afterwards, he’d better intercept her.
Rik strode to meet her. His face felt made of cast iron. He could not force it to take on any other expression except disapproval. He had always had a glib tongue and a deceptive manner, a professional thief in Sorrow needed one, but right now, his nerves were stretched tight and he did not seem to be able to dissemble in the slightest.
He met the girl in the muddy avenue between the lines of tents. They stood looking at each other. Rena looked radiantly pretty but it was obvious she was holding the smile on her face by an effort of will. Her friends stood a little distance apart, their hands over their mouths, trying to stifle giggles. Their attitude annoyed him as much as his own friends had. He disliked having an audience in what should be private moments.
“I did not expect to see you again,” he said, cursing himself for the way the words sounded, stilted and formal and stupid but something deep within him seemed to want things that way, was determined to make everything as difficult as possible. He remembered such moments before with Sabena, his first real love, where he had wanted to say one thing, and yet an entirely different set of words had emerged from his mouth as though scripted by a stranger. He could tell from Rena’s expression that this was not what she had been hoping to hear.
“I thought I would see you here,” she said. “I mean, I hoped I would.”
“Why?” he asked. His voice was cold. He was locked into the role now. He could not have stopped himself even if he had wanted to. She looked away towards where the pavilions of the Terrarchs stood.
“I thought…” She stopped and chewed the lower part of her lip. She looked really very lovely. Rik saw that her friends had stopped giggling and were looking at him disapprovingly, belligerently even. Let them, he thought. He did not care what they thought. He did not care what anyone thought.
