Read Online Drenai Series 09 - Hero In The Shadows by David Gemmell - Free Book Online
Authors: David Gemmell
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with three retainers, appears at our gates. Where was the carriage?
Where were the horses? From where did they come? They did not stay in Carlis.'
'Obviously they walked from elsewhere,' said Omri.
'And yet attracted little dust to their clothing, and showed no sign of weariness.'
Omri made the Sign of the Protective Horn. 'Regardless of the discourtesy, sir, I would gratefully appreciate knowledge of their departure date.'
'I do not believe there is any need to fear them, Omri. I sense no evil in her.'
'That is good to hear, sir. But some of us have little choice concerning what we fear. I have always been a frightened man. I don't know why.'
Waylander laid his hand on the old man's shoulder.
'You are a gentle soul and a good man,' he said. 'You care about people and their happiness. That is rare.'
Omri looked embarrassed. 'I would have liked to have been more . . . manly, shall we say? I was a terrible disappointment to my father.'
'Most of us are,' said Waylander. 'Had my father seen what I have done with my life he would have burned with shame. But that is neither here nor there. We live in the now, Omri. And now you are a steward, valued and respected
- even loved by those who serve under you. It should be enough.'
'Perhaps,' said Omri, 'but then you are loved and respected by those who serve you. Is it enough for you?'
Waylander gave a rueful smile, but did not reply. Moving away, he climbed the terrace steps towards the North Tower.
*
Minutes later he reached the top of the circular stair to the largest of the library rooms. It had originally been designed as a large state room, but as his collection of ancient scrolls and books grew, so too did the need for added space. There were now five smaller libraries within the palace, as well as the huge museum in the South Tower.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside and bowed to the slender woman sitting at the long, oval table, scrolls spread out around her. He found himself marvelling once more at her beauty, the pale gold of her flawless skin, and her finely boned Chiatze features. Even the shaven head only emphasized her exquisite good looks. She seemed almost too frail to bear the weight of the heavy robes of red and gold silk adorning her body.
'What are you studying, Lady?' he asked.
She looked up. Her slanted eyes were not the deep chestnut of the Chiatze, but tawny gold, flecked with blue.
They were disconcerting eyes that seemed to stare deep into the recesses of his soul. 'I have been reading this,' she said, her gloved hand lightly touching an ancient scroll of dry and faded parchment. 'It is, I am told, a fifth-generation copy of the sayings of a writer named Missael. He was one of the most extraordinary men of the New Order, following the destruction of the Elder Races. Some believe his verses contain prophecies for the future.' She smiled. 'But, then, words are so imprecise. Some of these verses could mean anything.'
'Then why do you study them?'
'Why does one study at all?' she countered. 'For greater knowledge, and with it greater understanding. Missael tells how the old world was destroyed by lust, greed, fear and hatred. Did mankind learn from the destruction?'
'Mankind does not have a single set of eyes,' said Waylander. 'A million eyes see too much and absorb too little.'
'Ah, you are a philosopher.'
'A poor one at best.'
'From your words you believe mankind cannot change for the better, evolve and develop into a finer species?'
'Individuals can evolve and change, Lady. This I have seen. But gather together any large group and within a few heartbeats you can have a howling mob, intent on murder and destruction. No, I do not believe mankind will ever change.'
That may be true,' she agreed, 'but it leaves the taste of defeat and despair. I cannot countenance such a philosophy. Please sit.'
Drawing up a chair, he reversed it and sat opposite her. 'Your rescue of the girl, Keeva, does you credit,' she said, her voice low, almost
Where were the horses? From where did they come? They did not stay in Carlis.'
'Obviously they walked from elsewhere,' said Omri.
'And yet attracted little dust to their clothing, and showed no sign of weariness.'
Omri made the Sign of the Protective Horn. 'Regardless of the discourtesy, sir, I would gratefully appreciate knowledge of their departure date.'
'I do not believe there is any need to fear them, Omri. I sense no evil in her.'
'That is good to hear, sir. But some of us have little choice concerning what we fear. I have always been a frightened man. I don't know why.'
Waylander laid his hand on the old man's shoulder.
'You are a gentle soul and a good man,' he said. 'You care about people and their happiness. That is rare.'
Omri looked embarrassed. 'I would have liked to have been more . . . manly, shall we say? I was a terrible disappointment to my father.'
'Most of us are,' said Waylander. 'Had my father seen what I have done with my life he would have burned with shame. But that is neither here nor there. We live in the now, Omri. And now you are a steward, valued and respected
- even loved by those who serve under you. It should be enough.'
'Perhaps,' said Omri, 'but then you are loved and respected by those who serve you. Is it enough for you?'
Waylander gave a rueful smile, but did not reply. Moving away, he climbed the terrace steps towards the North Tower.
*
Minutes later he reached the top of the circular stair to the largest of the library rooms. It had originally been designed as a large state room, but as his collection of ancient scrolls and books grew, so too did the need for added space. There were now five smaller libraries within the palace, as well as the huge museum in the South Tower.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside and bowed to the slender woman sitting at the long, oval table, scrolls spread out around her. He found himself marvelling once more at her beauty, the pale gold of her flawless skin, and her finely boned Chiatze features. Even the shaven head only emphasized her exquisite good looks. She seemed almost too frail to bear the weight of the heavy robes of red and gold silk adorning her body.
'What are you studying, Lady?' he asked.
She looked up. Her slanted eyes were not the deep chestnut of the Chiatze, but tawny gold, flecked with blue.
They were disconcerting eyes that seemed to stare deep into the recesses of his soul. 'I have been reading this,' she said, her gloved hand lightly touching an ancient scroll of dry and faded parchment. 'It is, I am told, a fifth-generation copy of the sayings of a writer named Missael. He was one of the most extraordinary men of the New Order, following the destruction of the Elder Races. Some believe his verses contain prophecies for the future.' She smiled. 'But, then, words are so imprecise. Some of these verses could mean anything.'
'Then why do you study them?'
'Why does one study at all?' she countered. 'For greater knowledge, and with it greater understanding. Missael tells how the old world was destroyed by lust, greed, fear and hatred. Did mankind learn from the destruction?'
'Mankind does not have a single set of eyes,' said Waylander. 'A million eyes see too much and absorb too little.'
'Ah, you are a philosopher.'
'A poor one at best.'
'From your words you believe mankind cannot change for the better, evolve and develop into a finer species?'
'Individuals can evolve and change, Lady. This I have seen. But gather together any large group and within a few heartbeats you can have a howling mob, intent on murder and destruction. No, I do not believe mankind will ever change.'
That may be true,' she agreed, 'but it leaves the taste of defeat and despair. I cannot countenance such a philosophy. Please sit.'
Drawing up a chair, he reversed it and sat opposite her. 'Your rescue of the girl, Keeva, does you credit,' she said, her voice low, almost
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