'Welcome,' he said, grinning. 'This war is making for good business.'

'Refugees?' queried Waylander.

'Yes, heading for Gulgothir. With all their worldly possessions.'

'Why do they trust you?'

'Just stupidity,' said Durmast, his grin widening. 'A man could get rich very quickly!'

'I don't doubt it. When do we leave?'

'We were only waiting for you, my friend. Gulgothir in six days, then the river east and north. Say three weeks. Then Raboas and your Armour. Sounds easy, does it not?'

'As easy as milking a snake. Have you heard that Cadoras is in Skultik?'

Durmast's eyes opened wide in mock surprise. 'No!'

'He is hunting me, so I am told.'

'Let us hope he does not find you.'

'For his sake,' said Waylander. 'How many men do you have?'

Twenty. Good men. Tough.'

'Good men?'

'Well no, scum as a matter of fact. But they can fight. Would you like to meet some of them?'

'No, I have just eaten. How many people are you taking?'

'One hundred and sixty. Some nice-looking women among them, Waylander. It should be a pleasant few days.'

Waylander nodded and glanced around the camp. Runners all of them, yet he felt pity for the families forced to trust a man like Durmast. Most of them would escape with their lives, but they would arrive in Gulgothir as paupers.

He transferred his gaze to the tree-lined hills to the south. A flash of light caught his eye and for some time he stared at the distant slopes.

'What is it?' asked Durmast.

'Perhaps nothing. Perhaps sunlight on a piece of quartz.'

'But you think it is Cadoras?'

'Who knows?' said Waylander, leading his horse away from the wagons and settling down in the shade of a spreading pine.

High in the hills, Cadoras replaced the long glass in its leather container and sat back on a fallen tree.

He was a tall, thin man, black-haired and angular. A scar ran from his forehead to his chin, cutting across his lips and giving him a mocking devil's smile. The eyes were cloudy grey and cold as winter mist. He wore a black mailshirt, dark leggings and riding boots, and by his hips hung two short swords.

Cadoras waited for an hour, watching the wagons hitched to oxen and then assembled into a north-pointing line. Durmast rode to the head of the column and led the way towards the mountains and the Delnoch Pass. Waylander rode at the rear.

A sound from behind him caused Cadoras to turn sharply. A young man emerged from the bushes, blinking in surprise as he saw the knife in Cadoras' raised hand.

'He didn't come,' said the man. 'We waited where you said, but he didn't come.'

'He came – but he circled you.'

'Vulvin is missing. I sent Macas to find him.'

'He will find him dead,' said Cadoras.

'How can you be sure?'

'Because I wanted him dead,' said Cadoras, walking away and staring after the wagons. Gods, why did they give him such fools? Bureaucrats! Of course Vulvin was dead. He had been ordered to watch the cabin of Hewla, but on no account to tackle Waylander. Why not, he had asked, he is only a man? Cadoras had known the fool would do something foolish, but then Vulvin was no loss.

An hour later Macas returned – short and burly, with a petulant mouth and a permanently surly manner. He moved to Cadoras, ignoring the younger man.

'Dead,' he said simply.

'Did you kill the old woman?'

'No. She had two wolves with her – they were eating Vulvin.'

'And you did not want to disturb their lunch?'

'No, Cadoras, I did not want to die.'

'Very wise. Hewla would have struck you dead in an instant; she has rare powers. By the way, there were no wolves.'

'But I saw them'

'You saw what she wanted you to see. Did you ask her how Vulvin died?'

'I did not have to. She said it was pointless sending jackals after a lion – told me to tell you that.'

'She is right. But you jackals were part of the contract. Mount up.'

'You do not like us, do you?' asked Macas.

'Like you, little man? What is to like? Now mount up.'

Cadoras walked to his horse and swung smoothly into the saddle. The wagons were out of sight now and he eased his mount out on to the slope, sitting back in the saddle and keeping the beast's head up.

'Don't make it too easy, Waylander,' he whispered. 'Do not disappoint me.'

12

When Karnak entered the council chamber, the twenty officers stood and saluted. Waving them to their seats, the general moved to the head of the table and removed his cloak, draping it over the chair behind him.

'Purdol is ready to fall,' he declared, his blue eyes scanning the grim faces around the table. 'Gan Degas is old, tired and ready to crack. There are no Source priests at Purdol and the Gan has received no news for more than a month. He believes he is alone.'

Karnak waited, allowing the news to sink in and gauging the rising tension. He watched Gellan, noting the sustained absence of emotion. Not so young Sarvaj, who had leaned back with disappointment etched into his features. Jonat was whispering to Gellan, and Karnak knew what he was saying; he was harping on past mistakes. Young Dundas waited expectantly, his belief in Karnak total. The general glanced around the table. He knew every man present, their weaknesses and their strengths – the officers prone to melancholy and those whose reckless courage was more dangerous than cowardice.

'I am going to Purdol,' he said, judging the moment. A gasp went up from the men and he lifted his hand for silence. 'There are three armies ranged against us, with Purdol taking the lion's share. If the fortress falls it will release 40,000 men to invade Skultik. We cannot stand against such a force. So I am going there.'

'You will never get in,' said one officer, a bearded Legion warrior named Emden. 'The gates are sealed.'

'There is another way,' said Karnak. 'Over the mountains.'

'Sathuli lands,' muttered Jonat. 'I've been there. Treacherous passes, ice-covered ledges – it is impassable.'

'No,' said Dundas, rising to his feet. 'Not impassable – we have more than fifty men working to clear the way.'

'But the mountains do not lead into the fortress,' protested Gellan. There is a sheer cliff rising from the back of Purdol. It would be impossible to climb down.'

'We are not going over the mountain,' said Karnak. 'We are going through it. There is a deep honeycomb of caves and tunnels and one tunnel leads through to the dungeons below the main Keep; at the moment it is blocked, but we will clear it. Jonat is right: the way is difficult and there will be no room for horses. I intend to take a thousand men, each bearing sixty pounds of supplies. Then we will hold until Egel breaks out of Skultik …'

'But what if he doesn't?' demanded Jonat.

'Then we retreat through the mountains and disperse into small raiding groups.'

Sarvaj raised his hand. 'One question only, general. According to the fortress specifications, Purdol should be manned by 10,000 men. Even if we get through, we will only raise the defenders to a sixty-per-cent complement. Can we thus hold?'

'Only architects and bureaucrats work in numbers, Sarvaj. The first wall at Purdol has already fallen, which means that the harbour and the docks are already held by the Vagrians and allowing them to ship in supplies and troops. The second wall has only two gates and they are holding firm. The third wall has but one gate – and after that there is the Keep. A strong force could hold Purdol for at least three months; we will not need more than that.'

Gellan cleared his throat. 'Have we any idea,' he said, 'as to losses at Purdol?'

Karnak nodded. 'Eight hundred men. Six hundred dead, the rest too badly wounded to fight.'

'And what of Skarta?' asked Jonat. 'There are Drenai families here depending on us for protection.'