Resting his massive hands on the table he half pushed himself upright, then slumped back to his seat. ‘On the other hand, it is pleasant sitting here,’ he concluded.
‘Let me give you a hand,’ said Skilgannon. The older man’s pale gaze locked with his own.
‘I’ll manage,’ muttered Druss, heaving himself upright, and swaying.
Easing himself from behind the table he walked to the front door and out into the night air. Skilgannon followed him. Druss rubbed at his eyes and groaned.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I am as long as I don’t blink,’ replied the axeman. ‘I need something to clear my head.’ There was a water trough close by the wharf’s edge. Druss staggered towards it, colliding with one of the Vagrian officers as they were leaving the tavern. The man fell heavily. ‘Apologies,’ muttered Druss, moving past them. The Vagrian pushed himself to his feet and glanced down at his cloak. It was smeared with horse droppings. He rushed after Druss, swearing at him. The axeman turned and raised his hands. ‘Whoa, there!’ he said. ‘This noise is splitting my head. Speak quietly.’
‘Speak quietly?’ echoed the Vagrian. ‘You drunken old Drenai fool.’
‘Drunk I may be, laddie — but at least I don’t smell of horse shit. Is that some new Vagrian fashion?’
The officer swore, then punched Druss full in the face with a straight left. The Vagrian was a big man, with wide shoulders, and Skilgannon winced as the blow thudded home. A second punch, a right cross, followed it. It never landed. Druss caught the man’s fist and spun him, hurling the Vagrian into the horse trough. ‘That should get the stains out,’ he said.
The second Vagrian ran at the old man. Druss blocked the punch, and grabbed the man by his throat and crotch. With one heave he lifted him above his head and staggered towards the edge of the wharf.
‘Druss!’ yelled Skilgannon. ‘He’s wearing a mailshirt. He might drown.’
The axeman hesitated, then lowered the man to the ground. ‘True,’ he said. ‘And we don’t want to be drowning our allies, do we, laddie.’
The first officer had dragged himself from the trough. He was reaching for the hilt of his knife when the skinny form of Shivas, the tavern owner, emerged from the Crimson Stag.
‘What is going on here?’ he asked. ‘Are you fighting in my establishment?’
‘You couldn’t call it a fight, Shivas,’ said Druss, with a smile. ‘A little gentle horseplay.’
‘Well take it elsewhere — or take your business elsewhere. I’ll have no troublemakers at the Crimson Stag. And I make no exceptions. Not even for you, Druss. And what do you expect me to do with that officer sleeping on my floor? If he stays the night he’ll pay lodging like everyone else.’
‘Put it on my bill, Shivas,’ said Druss.
‘Don’t think I won’t,’ muttered the tavern keeper, casting a malevolent gaze at the four men before returning inside.
The two Vagrians left without a word to Druss. The axeman walked over to Skilgannon. ‘Strange race, the Vagrians,’ he said. ‘They’d fight to the death on the smallest matter of principle. No threat of pain or injury would stop them. Yet the thought of missing out on Shivas’s cooking has them scuttling away like frightened children.’
Skilgannon smiled. ‘And how is your head?’
‘Clearing, laddie. Just what I needed. A little gentle exercise.’ Druss yawned and stretched. ‘
A figure moved from the shadows. Skilgannon saw it was the strange woman, Garianne. ‘You’re a little late for that meal, lass,’ said Druss. ‘But you are welcome to share my room and I’ll buy you a fine breakfast.’
‘We are very tired, Uncle,’ she said. ‘But we cannot sleep yet.’ She turned to Skilgannon. ‘The Old Woman would like to see you both. We can take you to her.’
‘I have no wish to see her,’ said Skilgannon.
‘She said you would say that. She knows the temple you seek. And something else which is very important to you. She told me to tell you this.’ She looked at Druss, then half stumbled, righting herself by grabbing the jetty rail. Druss moved in. Garianne took one step and fell. Druss caught her, sweeping her up into his arms. Her head sagged against his chest.
The axeman walked back to the Crimson Stag. Skilgannon moved ahead, opening the door. Moving past the snoring Diagoras Druss carried Garianne to the rear stairs and up to the room he had rented. There were three beds in it. Rabalyn was asleep in the one beneath the window. Druss laid Garianne on a second narrow pallet. She groaned, and tried to rise.
‘Rest, lassie,’ said Druss. The Old Woman can wait for an hour or two.’ He stroked the golden hair back from her brow. ‘Rest. Old Uncle is here.
Sleep.’ Lifting a blanket, he covered her. She smiled and closed her eyes.
Druss sat by the bedside for several minutes, then rose and gestured to Skilgannon to follow him. The two men returned to the tavern dining hall.
‘What is wrong with her?’ asked Skilgannon.
‘She’ll be fine when she’s rested. What do you know of the Old Woman?’
‘Too much and too little,’ answered Skilgannon. ‘I have never believed that evil is linked to ugliness. I have known handsome men who are utterly without souls. But the Old Woman is as evil as she is ugly.’
Druss sat silently for a moment. ‘Aye, I expect she is. But she also once helped me bring my wife back from the dead.’
‘I’ll wager she wanted something from you.’
Druss nodded. ‘She wanted a demon that had been imprisoned in my axe. I later found out she had plans to transfer it into a sword she was making for Gorben.’
‘Did you give it to her?’
‘I would have. But the demon was cast from Snaga when I walked in the Void.’
‘So, will you go to her?’
‘I owe her. I always pay my debts.’
They sat in silence for a while. ‘How did she bring your wife back from the dead?’ asked Skilgannon, at last.
‘Another time, laddie. Just thinking of Rowena makes my heart heavy.
Tell me, did the Old Woman forge those swords you carry?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought so. Be wary of them. There is more to her work than simple steel. Do you feel them calling to you?’
‘No,’ said Skilgannon sharply. ‘They are just swords.’
Druss sat quietly, holding to Skilgannon’s gaze. Finally it was the swordsman who looked away. ‘Yes, they call to me,’ he admitted. ‘They desire blood. But I can control them. I did so tonight.’
‘You are a strong man. It’ll take them time to eat into your soul. It was one of the Old Woman’s swords which drove Gorben mad. The recently deceased Tantrian King had another of them.’
‘Are you advising me to be rid of them?’ asked Skilgannon.
‘You don’t need my advice, laddie. You said it yourself. The Old Woman is evil. Her blades mirror her heart. Did she make a weapon for the Witch Queen?’
‘Yes. A knife. Jianna said it gave her discernment.’
‘It will give her more than that.’ Druss pushed himself to his feet.
‘I’m going to sit in that chair by the fire and doze for a while. Why don’t you go up and get some rest?’
‘And deprive you of your bed?’
‘I am an old soldier, laddie. I can sleep anywhere. Youngsters like you need pillows and blankets and mattresses. You go and lie down. If you can’t sleep I’ll bring you a goblet of hot milk and tell you a story.’
Skilgannon laughed, and felt all tension ease from him. He strode to the stairs and glanced back. ‘Put a little honey in the milk. And I want the story to have a happy ending.’
‘Not all my stories have happy endings,’ said Druss, settling down into a deep leather chair. ‘But I’ll see what I can do.’
Skilgannon returned to Druss’s room and stepped inside. Garianne and Rabalyn were still sleeping. Moving to the third bed he stretched himself out. The pillow was soft, the mattress firm.
