David Gemmell - Dark Moon

'A drowning man doesn't stop to think about whether the sea has a reason for being,' said a voice. 'He just swims and fights for life.'

'What are you doing here, Forin?'

'I came to talk, but I'd just as soon have a bath.' Stripping off his bloodstained clothes, the red-bearded giant moved down the marble steps and sank down into the water. 'Ah, but that is good.'

'I don't want company,' she said, but there was no force of conviction in her voice.

'Yes, you do. You've lived and breathed the Daroth threat for weeks now - scheming, planning, worrying.

And all for this day. Now it is over. And all the tension of those dark days is settling over you like a black mist.'

'I'm sick of it,' she said. 'Sick of seeing death and violence.'

'You are right to be sick of it, it is a sickening business. As to the point . . . ? Ask the living. There are crowds outside chanting your name . . . well, not exactly your name. "The Ice Queen", they are calling you now. They think you are a deliverer sent by the gods. Better than the "Whore of War", anyway.'

'I don't care what they think.'

'You should; they are what this is all about: the bakers

and the carpenters, the dreamers and the poets. But you won't see that today, will you, Karis?'

'What is it you want from me?' she asked, rising from the water and climbing the steps. Servants had left thick towels by the bath side and Karis wrapped one around her torso, using a second to dry her hair.

'Well?' she persisted.

'I don't know. How did the hot water feel upon your skin?'

'What has that to do with anything?'

'It felt good, didn't it? Cleansing the skin, relaxing the muscles. Had the Daroth broken through, we would have all been dead. No more baths. No more wine. No more loving. They didn't break through, Karis. You stopped them. And here we are. And life is sweet! Tomorrow. . . ? Well, tomorrow can look after itself.

What do I want? Pointless to say that I want you for eternity. We may only have a day. But if we don't use it then the Daroth might just as well have won.'

She sat down on a bench and smiled. 'That was a long-winded way of saying you want to take me to bed.'

He grinned at her. 'What I wanted most was to see you smile.'

She looked into his green eyes and was silent for a moment. 'Come and join me in a drink,' she said at last.

He rose from the water and she threw him a towel.

Necklen, Vint and the Duke Albreck were waiting in her outer rooms. The Duke stood as she entered, then averted his eyes. 'My apologies, General,' he said. 'We will come back when you are attired for company.'

Karis bowed. 'With respect, my lord, please be seated. I am too tired to dress, and will soon be asleep. But for the moment I have enough wits about me to conduct a conversation.'

'As you wish,' he said, but he was clearly uncomfortable. Seating himself, he was about to speak when Forin walked in naked. Hastily the giant swept a towel around his hips, but as he bowed the towel fell away. Necklen roared with laughter and even the Duke smiled. Then Albreck turned to Karis. 'Firstly, let me congratulate you on today's victory. The people seem to believe it was a miracle. For myself I know it to be the result of careful planning and meticulous strategy. I am proud of you, Karis.

Whatever happens from now on, nothing will change that.'

Karis reddened, seeming at a loss for words. The Duke rose and bowed to her, then swung to Forin.

'You lost a lot of men today, Captain. But you fought like a lion. Should Corduin survive this war, then there will be a place for you in my personal guard.'

'Thank you, my lord. I'll enjoy that.'

The Duke moved to the door. 'When you have rested, Karis, please come to my rooms. I would like to discuss tomorrow's plan of defence.' He paused before the door, which Necklen opened for him. Karis lay back on the couch, fatigue making her head swim.

'We'll let you get some rest, princess,' said Necklen, tapping Vint on the shoulder. Vint did not move; his face ashen, he was staring at Forin with undisguised hatred. Necklen leaned in to him. 'Time to go, my friend,' he whispered. Vint took a deep breath, pushed himself to his feet and stalked from the room. Necklen followed him.

'I think I've made an enemy of Vint,' said Forin. There was no reply from Karis, and the giant, moving alongside her, saw that she was asleep. Gently he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Pulling the sheets and blankets over her he kissed her brow, then dressed and wandered out of the palace.

Necklen caught Vint just as the swordsman was passing the side gates of the palace. 'Join me for a jug?' asked the older man.

'I don't think so.'

'It's what she is, Vint,' said Necklen. 'I love her like a daughter, but she's wilful.'

With great effort Vint held back the angry retort that swelled in his throat. Necklen was a good man, tough and loyal, and he meant well. The truth was simple: a man rarely understands the value of what he has - until he loses it. 'You mustn't blame Forin,' said Necklen.

'Blame? I don't blame anyone. I am angry, but that will pass. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return to the wall.'

Vint strode off. Everywhere there were crowds on the streets, laughing, singing, drinking. He moved through them like a wraith, oblivious to their joy. The black-clad figure of Tarantio was sitting on the battlements, staring out over the walls.

'Anything happening?' asked Vint.

'No. A whole group of them, maybe two hundred, have been sitting in a circle for the last couple of hours. Where's Karis?'

'Resting, apparently.' Tarantio caught the edge in Vint's tone and said nothing. 'Where next, do you think?' asked Vint. 'The east gate?'

'I have no idea. They are shocked, that's for sure.'

Vint glanced back to where the Daroth bodies had been dragged earlier. All that remained was what appeared to be a huge pile of white sacks and oddments of armour and weapons. 'What happened to the Daroth dead?' he asked.

'That's them,' said Tarantio. 'The bodies just shrivelled away. The stench was dreadful for a while. I saw a snake shed its skin one time; it was something like that.'

'It was the same at the miracle forest,' Vint told him. 'They really decompose fast, don't they?'

'If that is what is happening,' said Tarantio. 'That farmer who was taken by them . . . Barin. He said they were immortal - reborn every ten years. Maybe there's a new body for them back in their city.'

'What a loathsome thought.'

The bearded soldier who had spoken to Vint just before the attack walked up the rampart steps. He was weaving slightly, and holding a jug in his hands. 'What a day!' he said, slumping down beside the two men. 'What an incredible day! Did you know the whores are not accepting money today?

Everything's free: women, drink, food. What a day!' The man lay down on the stone and, using the empty jug for a pillow, fell asleep.

'Let's hope he has the same sentiments tomorrow,' said Tarantio. 'People are treating this as a great victory, when in fact it is only the starting skirmish.'

Brune ran up the steps, tripped at the top, recovered his balance and then moved alongside Tarantio, handing him a package wrapped in muslin. Tarantio opened it to find fresh bread, salted beef and a pottery jar containing butter. 'It's amazing back there,' said Brune. 'Everyone's so happy. A woman kissed me!'

'She must have been drunk,' teased Tarantio.

'Yes, she was,' admitted Brune. 'It was still nice, though.'

'How is the eye?' asked Vint.

The sandy-haired youngster gave a shrug. 'It's not as good as it was when it went gold. But it's all right.'

'You can shoot straight now?'

'I don't know. Haven't tried.'

'Brune has decided that war is evil, and he will have no part in killing,' put in Tarantio. 'Isn't that right, Brune?'