David Gemmell - Wolf in Shadow

'Indeed they are. I think I will rest now. Thank you for answering my questions.'

'It was a pleasure. Sleep well.'

'One last question?'

'Ask it.'

'Do the Stones create your food for you?'

'They used to, Mr Shannow, but we needed the power for other and more important things. We now run a sizable herd of cattle and sheep, and we grow most of our vegetables.'

‘Thank you again.'

'Not at all.'

Shannow lay awake long after Batik was asleep. The mood-view was set to moonlight and he watched as clouds drifted across the sky, the same clouds time and again in relentless regularity.

He closed his eyes and saw once more the sundered statue, picturing a real man lying there with his entrails around him like torn ribbons.

Had Karitas possessed weapons such as these, the Hellborn would never have destroyed his village and young Curopet would still be alive.

Shannow rolled over and lay on his stomach, but sleep evaded him despite the softness of the bed. He was uneasy and tense. He swung his legs from the bed and moved to the water cubicle, stepping into the shallow basin and turning on the spray. In a tray to his right was a bar of scented soap and he scrubbed his skin, revelling in the heat of the shower. Towelling himself down, he returned to the mood-view and on impulse switched it to day and watched the sun hurtle into the sky.

He sat at the table and poured a glass of water. All his life he had been both hunter and hunted, and he trusted his instincts. There had to be a cause for his uneasiness, and he was determined to find it before his next meeting with Sarento.

Sarento. He did not like the man, but that was no reason to judge him harshly. Shannow liked few men. . and the Guardian leader had been pleasant enough. Despite his words he had not seemed unduly distressed by Archer's death, but then the man had merely been a follower, and Shannow knew that the emotions of men whom the world thought great rarely ran deep. Humanity invariably ran a poor second to ambition.

Shannow relaxed his mind. In hunting one used peripheral vision to spot movement and it was the same with a problem. Staring at it head on often blurred the perspective. He let his thoughts roam. .

Karitas leapt from his subconscious — kind, gentle Karitas.

Hellborn Karitas, the father of guns.

Sent out by Sarento?

To serve Abaddon?

Shannow's jaw tightened. He knew little of Karitas' background, but had not Ruth told him that he gave Abaddon the secrets of firearms? And had not Sarento claimed he was a Guardian sent to instruct?

What game was being played here?

And why did the Guardians need cattle when their Stones could create such a palace of miracles within a ghost ship? Lewis said they needed the power for more important things. What was more important than feeding a colony?

Sarento had said that Shannow was Rolynd, which meant his knowledge of Atlantis was greater than Archer's. Why had he not shared it with the Guardian?

And lastly there was Cade: Cade the Brigand, Cade the killer, throwing his hat into the ring of war.

What right-thinking man would supply him with the weapons of empire?

Shannow had told Ruth that he was happy to hear of Daniel's actions, and that was true. Blood was thicker than water, but Shannow knew Cade better than any man alive. His brother was tough, and merciless. And if he had taken on the mantle of leadership, it would not be for altruistic reasons. Somewhere within the horror of war, Cade had seen the chance of profit.

He switched the mood-view to night and returned to his bed, where with his thoughts more settled he fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke Batik was already dressed and sitting with Lewis at the table. Before the Hellborn was a plate stacked high with eggs and bacon. Shannow dressed and joined them.

'Would you like some food, Mr Shannow? I am afraid Batik ate your ration.'

'I am not hungry, thank you.'

Lewis glanced at a rectangular bracelet on his wrist. 'Sarento is ready to meet you.'

Batik belched and rose. 'How are we going to get those guns to Cade?' he asked.

Shannow smiled and ignored the question. 'Shall we go?' he said to Lewis.

Once more out into the glowing corridor, Shannow slipped the retaining thong from the hammer of his right-hand pistol. Batik noticed the surreptitious movement and silently freed his own pistol. He asked no more questions but dropped back a pace, keeping Lewis ahead of him.

Inside the meeting room, Sarento rose and greeted his guests with a warm smile.

'Did you sleep well?'

'We did indeed,' said Shannow. 'Thank you for your hospitality, but we must be leaving.'

'It will take time to prepare the guns for the journey.'

'We will not be taking the guns.'

The smile left Sarento's face. 'You are not serious?'

'Indeed I am. You misread me, sir. There is only one dream in my life: to find Jerusalem. Sadly, I must first kill Abaddon. It is a question of pride and revenge. I am not part of the Hellborn war. If you wish guns to go to Cade, end some of your men.'

'Is that not a little selfish, Mr Shannow?'

'Goodbye, Sarento.' Shannow turned his back on the Guardian leader and moved to the door.

Behind him Batik Spread his hands and backed out into the corridor. Shannow stood by the elevator, Lewis joined them, and the Journey to the canyon floor was made in silence.

The horses were brought out and Lewis walked out into the bright sunlight with the two men.

'Good luck in your quest, Mr Shannow.'

Thank you, Mr Lewis.'

Shannow mounted and swung the stallion's head to the south. Batik cantered alongside him and the two rode in silence to the rim of the hills overlooking the ruined city and the golden Ark.

'What was that about, Shannow?' asked Batik as the men reined their mounts. 'I would have thought you would leap at the chance of using those guns?'

'Why? You think I am in love with killing?'

'For Cade — to beat the Hellborn.'

'I will not be used, Batik, in another man's game.' Shannow drew his pistol. 'With this gun I have slain many Hellborn. But is it mine? No, I took it from the body of an enemy. Tell me, Batik -

how long before the Hellborn capture one of those disgusting rifles? How long before they dismantle one and learn to make their own? They are not an answer to the war, they merely enlarge it. I am not a child to be mesmerized by a pretty toy.'

'You think too much, Shannow.'

'All too true, my friend. I think the Guardians are playing their own game. I think they created the Hellborn weapons and took them to Abaddon. And I think we were lucky to leave there alive.'

'Why did they allow it?'

'Surprise. They did not expect us to refuse.'

'How many more enemies do you expect to make in this quest of yours?'

Shannow grinned and his expression softened as he leaned over and grasped Batik's shoulder.

'Let me tell you this: one friend is worth a thousand enemies.'

Above them the spirit of Ruth soared away, her joy golden.

She sped south and west, passing Babylon and searching for the wagon carrying Donna Taybard, which she located in the foothills some four days' journey from the city. Donna lay in the back of the wagon with silver bands around her brow, wrists and ankles, and she seemed in a deep enchanted sleep. The bands puzzled Ruth and she floated closer to the comatose body, but a sharp tug pulled at her and she soared away. Steeling herself, she approached the body once more and found that the bands acted like a magnet, exerting power against her. She drew closer still, and the pull became painful, but at last she could see the shards of Blood Stone within the bands. She tore herself clear and flew to Sanctuary, her-knowledge complete.

Anger welled in her, and she understood at last the truth of the Blood Stones. It was not blood or life they drank, but ESPer power. The strength of the spirit.