'Do you have to go, Mummy?' asked Aron.
'The sooner I do, the sooner we'll all be home with your father.' She hugged them again. 'Hey, I won't be gone long, I promise.' They both looked up at her. 'I promise,' she repeated.
She unlocked their arms and went to the door, pulling it open on a surprised-looking Isman. The rangy warrior lurched to a standing position from his slouch against the wall, the flaps of his leather tunic clapping together over his worn brown shirt.
'Finished so soon?' he asked.
'Just in a hurry,' said Erienne brusquely. 'I'll answer your questions now. My boys need their father and their own beds.'
'And we are just as anxious as you to see you are held here for as short a time as possible,' said Isman smoothly. 'The Captain will question you shortly. Until then-'
'Now,' said Erienne, closing the door at her back with one last smile at her boys, who waved at her.
'You are in no position to make demands of us,' sneered Ismam.
Erienne smiled and moved close to Isman. As she did so, her face hardened, the smile seeming to freeze on her cheeks.
'And what if I walk past you now?' she hissed, her face paling. 'What are you going to do?' Their faces were scant inches apart, his eyes flickering over her. 'Stop me? Kill me?' She laughed. 'You're scared of me because we both know I could kill you before your sword left your scabbard. And we're alone, so don't tempt me. Just take me to your Captain right now.'
Isman pursed his lips and nodded.
'He said you'd be trouble. We had you watched for months before we took you. He said your kind knew much but were arrogant. ' He pushed past her and led the way down the spiral stairs. He turned at the bottom. 'He was right. He always is. Go ahead, kill me if you think you can. There are three men outside this door. You can't get far. We both know that too, don't we?'
'But I'd have the satisfaction of seeing you die,' said Erienne. 'And I'd see the fear in your eyes. Think on it. Unless you watch me all the time, you'll never know if I'm about to cast. Never know when you're about to die.'
'We have your children.' The sneer was back on Isman's face.
'Well, you'd better see you look after them, then, hadn't you? Don't turn your back, Isman.'
The warrior let out a contemptuous laugh, but as he turned to open the door, Erienne thought she saw him shudder.
Denser sat at the end of a bench table full of men who, not many hours before, would have killed him. The barbarian, Hirad Coldheart, was not there. Seeing to their horses, Sirendor Larn had said. Denser shivered inwardly, laid down his fork across his half-eaten breakfast of meat, gravy and bread, and sipped at his coffee. His cat purred as it lay on the bench beside him, luxuriating in the warmth cast by the range of fires in the kitchens.
They'd been prepared to die then, at the barbarian's sword. Their inner calm had been complete. And had they died, he in a crush of bone and his cat in a screaming mental explosion, the whole of Balaia might have died with them.
Denser looked up at The Unknown Warrior. They all still had a chance because of him. Him and the simple code The Raven had always followed. The reason why they above all other mercenary teams remained in demand, successful and so very effective. While killing was legal within the rules of battle, and in witnessed defence of self and others, outside of these boundaries it was murder. And The Raven, perhaps alone, had stood in battle lines for ten years with robbers, bandits, bounty hunters and other hired men little better than murderers, with their collective conscience clear.
There were plenty who said it was the total adherence to their code that made them strong and feared by opponents; and Denser had no doubt that the perpetuation of this myth helped them enormously. Mainly, though, he considered it was because while as individuals they were outstanding, if not brilliant, as a team they were simply awesome.
Yet it was the code that swung the balance when the cost of their hire was considered. It meant that their employers could expect the contract to be upheld and the battle to be fought by The Raven within the rules.
The Code: Kill But Never Murder.
So simple that many tried to live by it on taking up the career as a hired warrior or mage. But most lacked the discipline, intelligence, stamina or skill to keep true in the heat of battle, victory or retreat, and aftermath. And certainly none had done so for ten years without blemish.
It would be easy to cast them as heroes, but Denser had seen them fight more than once and what they were was, to him, obvious. They were a team of terribly efficient killers. Killers but not murderers.
But as Denser looked around the table at the men eating in silence, each walking the privacy of his own mind, he thought they looked tired, and a pang of fear flooded his gut lest they should ultimately refuse him.
Because he needed them. Xetesk needed them. Gods, all of Balaia would need them if the information the spies were sending back proved to be the prelude to the rising of the Wytch Lords. But could he convince them of what had to be done, and would Xetesk try to bring the Colleges together?
Despite the knowledge of what could be to come, Denser wondered whether he wasn't facing his most difficult challenge now.
The Raven.
Even if they heard the truth, he was pretty sure it wouldn't make any difference. They didn't take a contract because they believed in the cause. In fact the cause was largely irrelevant. The job had to be made worth their while, worth their reputation and worth their attendance. Worth the risk. That's why the truth was pointless, at least until he could hide it no longer. No compensation could possibly be worth the risks he would be asking them to face.
Denser took another mouthful of food. It was a great pity he hadn't met The Raven in Korina as planned. There he might have been able to conceal his College identity for long enough. Their being part of Taranspike Castle's defence hadn't figured in Xetesk's plans. Now he was truly up against it and right now he couldn't even persuade Ilkar to let him pay them to ride with him to Korina, the City they were headed for anyway.
He glanced up and caught The Unknown's eye. The warrior calmly held his gaze, swallowed his mouthful and pointed his knife at Denser.
'Tell me something,' he said. 'Ever see a Dragon before?'
'No,' said Denser.
'No. And what would you have done had Hirad not managed to distract it so effectively while you stole your prize?'
Denser smiled ever so slightly. 'That is a very good question. We hadn't planned on a Dragon being there.'
'Clearly. My guess is you would have died.'
'Possibly.' Denser half shrugged. Actually he thought he would have been fine but he could see where the line was leading and it gave him a chance.
'Definitely.' The Unknown smeared a chunk of bread around his plate and then placed it carefully in his mouth. 'There is an argument, therefore, that says we helped you take the amulet, however unwittingly.'
Denser inclined his head and refilled his mug from the copper pot on the table.
'What sort of percentage did you have in mind?'
'Five per cent of sale value.'
Denser blew out his cheeks. 'That'll be a lot of money.'
It was The Unknown's turn to shrug. 'Call it compensation for the death of a Raven man. Or for the countless nights we wake up shaking and sweating from the visions of what we saw in there. I don't mind telling you, it took all the control I had not to turn and run.'
'That would be a first ever,' said Ilkar eventually into the void. The Unknown inclined his head.
'He wouldn't have been the only one,' said Sirendor. More nods around the table mixed with the odd smile.
'And none of you know the half of it.' All heads turned to see Hirad standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He walked towards them slowly, his face drawn and pinched round the eyes.
'You all right, Hirad?' asked Sirendor.
'Not really. I was outside remembering what Sha-Kaan said, and if that doorway was still there I'd be taking the amulet back to him.'
'Why?' Sirendor again, and Denser held his breath.
'Something he said. About holding the portal from his world to ours and guarding something we shouldn't have made. Whatever it was, he is angry now, so what if he chooses not to hold the portal any longer?'
'I haven't got a clue what you're talking about, Hirad.' Sirendor for the third time.
'Neither have I really,' said Hirad. 'Just that if we ever see a Dragon in the skies of Balaia, it'll be the end for all of us.'
'What do you mean, exactly?' asked Denser.
'What do you think I mean?' snapped the barbarian. 'We'll all die. They are too powerful and there are too many of them. Trust me.' He moved to the cooking pots and ladled himself some meat into a bowl.
'Look. Going back a little.' Deriser's attention was once again on The Unknown Warrior. 'I'll agree to the five per cent if you agree to bodyguard me back to Korina.'
Ilkar swung round from where he had been staring at Hirad as if he had been slapped in the face. 'I have already told you that we will not work for Xetesk.' His voice was low, steady and certain.
'Just exactly how much do you think that thing is worth, Xetesk man?' asked Hirad.
Denser raised his eyebrows. 'Well, though I can't guarantee it, I think we're talking in the region of five million truesilver.' There was a brief pause of slack-jawed disbelief.
'Well take the job.'
'Hirad!' snapped Ilkar. 'You do not understand.'
'It's good money, Ilkar.'
'It's unbelievable, more like,' said Talan. 'That's a quarter of a million truesilver for taking a passenger down a road we're already travelling.' Hirad just mouthed the figure.
'You know something, Hirad, I just cannot believe that you of all people would agree to this. He all but had you killed.' Ilkar's tone bordered on contempt.
'Yeah, so he owes me.' Hirad kept his face away from the Xeteskian as he spoke. 'I don't have to like him. I don't even have to look at him. In fact I can go on hating him. All I have to do is put up with him riding near by on the way back to Korina. Then he pays us a great deal of money and we never see him again. I think I can handle it.'
'Anyway it's not that simple,' said Ilkar.
'Yes it is.'
'It isn't and I have a real problem with it,' began Ilkar, but the barbarian loomed over him.
'I know you don't agree with the Xetesk morality-'
'That's an understatement and a half-'
'-but considering what you lot have been about behind my back, I don't think it's the kind of money we should turn down, do you? It might be the last we ever make.' He straightened. Ilkar just scowled at him. 'Face it, Ilkar, you'll be outvoted. Don't make it difficult.' Ilkar's eyes narrowed to slits.
The Unknown reached a hand across to Denser. 'We have a contract. Talan will write it and you and I will sign it. No actual value will be mentioned but the percentage and intention to pay will be registered.'
'Excellent,' said Denser. The two men shook.
'Indeed it is.' The Unknown drained his mug. 'You know what, I can feel a Rookery party coming on.'
The door to the kitchens opened again.
'I hear you couldn't save my mage. A pity. He was a good man, Seran.'
The Raven turned to look at their employer, and Denser his erstwhile opponent for the first time. Baron Gresse was middle-aged with a powerful mind and a quartet of sons to make up for his own fading strength. Spurning rich man's clothes - and he was among the top five Barons in terms of wealth - he walked in wearing practical riding garb, cloak over one arm, leather jerkin, woollen shirt and leather thighed cloth trousers.
He dismissed his men at arms from the door and waved away the babbling kitchen folk as he made his way to The Raven's table. He studied them all through his large brown eyes, his balding grey head moving smoothly as he did so. He reached out a hand.
'The Unknown Warrior.'
'Baron Gresse.' The men shook.
'A pleasure to make your acquaintance.'
'Likewise.' The Unknown glanced along the table. 'Get the Baron some coffee, Talan.'
'Well, well, The Raven. Hardly a surprise we won the day. Seran always chose well.' Gresse chewed his lip. 'Where will I find another like him, eh?'
'Julatsa,' said Ilkar. 'At least we're consistent.'
Gresse chuckled. 'Do you mind if I sit down?' He gestured at the bench. Ilkar moved along and he sat. Talan placed coffee in front of him. He nodded his thanks.
An awkward silence fell around the table. Denser scratched his beard nervously. The Unknown gazed at the Baron, impassive as always. Ilkar's ears pricked.
'I shan't keep you in suspense,' said Gresse, sipping at his beverage, a smile playing about his lips. 'But I was hoping you might be able to back up something I've heard.'
'Of course,' said The Unknown. 'If we can.'
'Good. I'll be brief. I have been called to a meeting of the Korina Trade Alliance concerning deteriorating conditions to the west of the Blackthorne Mountains. There are rumours that the Wesmen have stepped up activity, broken the Understone Pass Right of Passage agreement, and there are fears of incursions into the east - although I should point out that the garrison at Understone itself has reported nothing out of the ordinary. I need to know whether you have picked up any rumours. I understand you were fighting with Baron Blackthorne himself not long ago, and he is unable to attend the meeting.' Gresse's eyes twinkled.
'We only fought with him so The Unknown could get a better deal on his wine.' Sirendor smiled.
'I feel sure you did not.'
'As it happened, that was part of the agreement,' said The Unknown. 'As regards rumours, we heard plenty while we were there, but this is six months ago we're talking about.'
'Anything you heard, even in passing, that I could bring to the table would be useful.'
'Put it this way,' said Ilkar. 'If you believed everything you heard, the Wytch Lords are back, Parve is a bustling city once again and the Wesmen are torching everything west of the Blackthorne Mountains. '
'And you give these rumours no credence,' said Gresse.
'Nothing a Wesmen war party might do would surprise me,' said Ilkar. 'But aside from that, no.'
'Hmmm.' Gresse was thoughtful. 'Interesting. Thank you for your help yesterday, by the way. I understand you lost a man. I'm sorry.'
'It's a risk, let's be honest,' said Hirad, though his tone was unconvincing.
'Nevertheless, to lose a friend cannot be easy. I am sorry and I am grateful. Yesterday's was a battle I couldn't afford to lose. Literally.'
'You make it sound as though you're on your uppers,' said Talan.
Gresse shrugged. 'Taranspike Castle is of major tactical importance. The owner negotiates rights of passage through one of the principal routes in and out of Korina. Had I lost it to Baron Pontois, he would have controlled both of my key transport routes to the capital as well as holding land on two sides of my estate. He could have chosen to deny me access or price it out of my reach, either way bankrupting me over time. My best alternative route takes days, not hours.'