“What happened? Are you ill?” asked Kieran.
“We are going to be attacked,” said Sorak.
“Attacked? When? By whom?”
“Tomorrow night, I think,” said Sorak. “Raiders. Dressed in black… I… I saw them. I saw it happen.”
Kieran stared at him, then nodded. “Very well, then. We’ll be prepared for them.”
“You believe me?” Sorak asked with surprise.
“I have learned not to question someone with the gift of Sight,” Kieran replied.
“How did you know?” asked Sorak, startled.
“I have seen this sort of thing before,” said Kieran, helping him to his feet. “General Trajian of Draj employed a soothsayer with the Sight. He never knew when it would come upon him, but when it did, he reacted much as you. And his visions were never false. You know, my friend, I am beginning to believe the stories of that ballad are not far exaggerated. I was going to speak with you about that.”
“Is that why you followed me?” asked Sorak. “I am flattered. Not many men would pass up an opportunity to watch Cricket dance just to talk with me.”
Kieran grinned. “I notice that you passed it up. You left rather suddenly.”
“I had no wish to answer questions about that ridiculous ballad,” Sorak said.
“Not so ridiculous, I think,” said Kieran, pulling aside Sorak’s cloak to reveal Galdra tucked into his belt. “The blade is broken, yet otherwise it matches the description, right down to the inscription. The runes for ‘Strong in spirit’ remain.”
Sorak glanced at him with surprise. “You can read elvish?”
“And I can speak it, fluently,” said Kieran. “I also know dwarven. And I speak a smattering of halfling. A knowledge of languages can be a great benefit in my trade.”
“I am impressed,” said Sorak.
“That is Galdra, is it not?” asked Kieran. “I am familiar with the elven prophecy.”
Sorak merely nodded.
“So,” said Kieran. “Elven steel. I have heard of it, but never seen it before. May I?”
Sorak drew the blade and handed it to him. As he touched it, a sparkling blue aura briefly played around its edge, but when Kieran put his hand upon the hilt, it faded.
“It still holds magic,” Kieran said, staring at it with fascination. “And I have never seen so fine a blade, with the steel folded so many times… How did it break?”
“A defiler touched it,” Sorak said. “That part of the legend was true.”
“I take it the individual concerned is now no longer with us,” Kieran said.
“No,” said Sorak. “I bear his blade now.” He drew the sword he had earlier shown Grak and the others. “He bid me take it as he died.”
“A gallant gesture,” Kieran said. “That does not sound much like a defiler.”
“He was a defiler only by association,” Sorak explained. “A soldier like yourself, but in the service of the Shadow King. In some ways, he was an admirable man. In others, one to be despised. He was no longer young, but he still had the strength often, and he was the finest swordsman I have ever seen.”
“Valsavis,” Kieran said.
Sorak shook his head. “You never cease to surprise me,” he said. “How could you possibly have known?”
Kieran smiled. “I am a professional, my friend. And, by reputation, whether deserved or not, one of the finest blades alive. Valsavis was the other. The Shadow King’s personal assassin. Oh, I knew of him, all right, but I never met the man. I had always wondered which of us would be the best. I suppose now I shall never know. But you… you bested him?”
“It was hardly a fair fight,” said Sorak. “He was gravely wounded when we fought, and he had lost a hand. Despite that, I was still no match for him. I was merely lucky.”
“I would like to know how lucky,” Kieran said. “We shall have to cross swords sometime, in practice. But in the meantime, there are some other questions I would ask.”
“Certainly,” said Sorak.
“If you truly are the Crown of Elves, why accept a post as soldier of a merchant house?”
Sorak shook his head. “I never claimed to be a king of any sort, and have no wish to be. Galdra was a gift to me from the high mistress of the villichi, into whose safekeeping it was given by a pyreen many years ago. If she knew of the elven prophecy, and if her gift was prompted by it, she never mentioned it to me. And once the blade was broken, I had no further use for it. It served me well, but came with weighty baggage. I threw it into a deep pool at an oasis not long before we met. And the other day, it magically returned to me. It seems I’m stuck with it. As for why I took the job you offered me, I had to get to Altaruk, and it seemed a good way to be in the center of things.”
“I see. And what takes you to Altaruk?”
“I cannot say.”
“Cannot or will not?” Kieran asked.
“I have no wish to lie to you,” said Sorak. “I must go to Altaruk in the name of the preserver cause, but beyond that, I know nothing. And do not ask me how I know I must go. That I will not tell you.”
Kieran nodded. “Frankly spoken.” He gave Sorak back the blade, and as Sorak touched it, it briefly glowed. “So. Where does that leave us?”
“I suppose you will require a new second-in-command,” said Sorak.
“You have not yet even begun your duties. Are you resigning already?”
Sorak frowned. “But… surely, now that you know—”
“I have heard nothing to make me think I made an error in offering you the post. If you no longer want it, that is another matter. And if what you must do in Altaruk places us at cross purposes, I will trust you to resign at that time. If I should be placed in a position where I must do something in response, I will promise you twenty-four hours before I act. Do I have your hand upon it?”
Sorak gave him his hand. “I hope
