David Gemmell - Dark Moon

'I am truly sorry, Necklen. Did you love them very much?'

'It is curious, but I loved them more when they had died. You don't know how valuable love is, until something takes it from you.'

'How old was your daughter?'

'Five. Dark-haired like you. She would have been about your age now - young, and full of life. Married, probably, to some farmer.'

'And you would have been a doting grandfather with babies on your knee.' He chuckled at the thought. 'I need to swim,' she said. Rising, she had stripped off her boots, leggings and tunic and dived into the pool below the falls. Necklen had rarely felt as old as he did at that moment.

He was dragged from his reverie by the sound of the door opening. Karis moved across the room and sat down opposite the old warrior. He forced a cheerfulness he did not feel. 'You are looking brighter, princess,' he said. 'What can have changed your mood?'

'One more tactic against the Daroth,' she said. 'The last one.' She told him about the catacombs, and her plans for a rolling retreat to draw the enemy to a desired location.

'But if there are seventeen exits, the Daroth might split their force and not follow our men. Or they might read their minds and realize the trap.'

'Exactly! That is what we must work out. How do we misdirect the Daroth?'

'Well, firstly, is there a need? In the darkness of the catacombs, amidst the chaos of a rolling retreat, the Daroth may not be able to read minds.'

She shook her head. 'We cannot rely on that.' Moving to the table she spread out a map of the catacombs.

'Six of the exits emerge into the Great Park. Only one of these is surrounded by flat land where we could assemble all our ballistae, spreading them in a half circle around the exit. Then, when the Daroth emerge we can cut them to pieces.'

'There is a second problem there, princess: they will not emerge all at once. Let's say twenty scramble out, then charge the ballistae. We shoot, they fall, then fifty more emerge while we are reloading. We will also need a plan that allows the greatest number of Daroth to rise from the darkness - before we shoot.'

'One problem at a time, old one.' They talked on for more than an hour, discussing possible strategies, then Karis called a halt. 'I will sleep on it,' she said. Necklen rose to go, but she lifted her hand. 'Wait for a few moments, my friend,' she said.

'What else is troubling you?' he asked.

She gave a wistful smile. 'Nothing of great importance - not to the city anyway,' she told him. 'You once told me about your wife. Did you love her?'

'Ay, I did. She was a fine woman.'

'How did you know you loved her?'

The question took Necklen by surprise. 'I can't say I know what you mean, princess,' he said. 'How does anyone know? It just happens.' She looked disappointed, but said nothing and Necklen felt he had failed her. 'How do you feel when you are in love?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'I never have been.'

'But you've . . .' he faltered.

'Had a hundred lovers,' she finished for him. 'I know. I've always been careful. Never rutted with a man who touched my soul.'

'In Heaven's name, why?'

Karis half-filled a goblet with wine, then added water. But she did not drink; she merely stared into the wine's crimson depths. Necklen was about to ask her again when she looked up. 'I don't remember how old I was when I first saw my father punch my mother. But I was very small. I saw her thrown across a table, and lying upon the floor with blood seeping from her smashed lips. He kicked her then, and I began screaming. Then he struck me.'

'What has this to do with your falling in love? I don't see the connection.'

'You don't? She married for love. It destroyed her.'

'And you feel it would happen to you? Why should it?' he asked. 'You think all men are like your father?'

'Yes,' she answered, simply. 'They all want control. They see women as possessions, and I will not be possessed.'

'Forin,' he said. 'You are in love with Forin. He is the

last person you think of before going to sleep, and the first person you see in your mind's eye when you wake. Yes?' She nodded. 'Ah, princess, you are a fine, intelligent lass, and yet dumb as a jackass.

Of course love is dangerous and wild and irresponsible. By Heaven, that's what makes it so wonderful!'

'You think me stupid?' she asked him, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.

'I adore you, princess, but you should not be looking at love through the eyes of the frightened child you once were. Let me go and find him. I'll send him to you.' As Necklen pushed himself to his feet, Karis rose and stepped close to kiss his bearded cheek.

'I love you, old man,' she said. 'I wish you had been my father.'

'I love you too,' he said.

And, with despair in his heart, strode off to find Forin.

The sun was high in the sky as Ozhobar and Vint stood on the parapet of the north wall watching the Daroth toil. 'They have hit rock,' said Ozhobar. 'It has slowed them considerably.'

'Maybe they will not be able to pass it,' suggested the swordsman hopefully.

'They will pass it,' said Ozhobar grimly. 'Before long we will be able to hear them below us, like termites.' He switched his gaze to the soldiers on the wall; they were stern of face, and there was little conversation. The celebrations in the city had died away as the news spread of the new Daroth initiative. Already citizens had begun to report sounds underground, which they became convinced were Daroth engineers. It was hard to allay the fears, and fresh columns of refugees had already started to stream towards the south.

The smell of onion soup drifted up to them. 'I cannot stand another day of that,' said Vint. 'Join me for breakfast?'

'I thought you wanted to kill me,' Ozhobar observed.

'I also want to eat,' said Vint coldly. The two men left the ramparts and walked to a nearby tavern, where they breakfasted on eggs, bacon and beef, washed down with cider. 'Where are you from?' Vint asked the Weapon Maker.

'The islands. My father was a blacksmith and an inventor.'

'What brought you to the mainland?'

Ozhobar shrugged. 'I thought I'd travel and see the world. Thought there'd be more scope for my talents.'

'Well, you were right about that.'

'I didn't mean with weapons,' said Ozhobar sadly. 'Prentuis had a sewerage system - not a very good one, mind, but they survived the plague better than any other city. Less filth on the streets. Less disease.'

'The city doesn't exist any more,' said Vint.

'That's not the point I am trying to make. Life could be so much better for people if we weren't always fighting, using all our resources for weapons and armies. I suppose, however, that life would be exceedingly dull for you if peace ever came?'

'No, I would paint and write,' said Vint, draining the last of his cider.

'You are a painter?'

'Ah, I have surprised you,' said Vint. 'Yes, I paint. Landscapes mostly, but I have tackled portraits. I would offer to paint you, Oz, but I fear I wouldn't have a canvas large enough.'

Ozhobar laughed. 'Vint the painter and Ozhobar the sewer designer. What a pretty pair!'

'Indeed we are,' agreed Vint. 'And now, I fear, it is time for the return of the Swordsman and the Weapon Maker! Shall we tour the catacombs?'

Servants were rushing about the house packing valuables into chests and carrying them down to the two wagons drawn up outside. Miriac walked past them into the main room to find Pooris pushing papers into a leather shoulder-bag.

'What is happening?' asked Miriac.

'My dear, it is time to leave. The city is about to fall. I have had most of your clothes packed and loaded in the wagon. We set off for Hlobane within the hour.'

'I thought you had decided to stay,' she said.