Dark Moon

'What is troubling you?'

'What troubles me? You have witnessed the end to my career as a healer. I had a magic stone, but now it is used up, the power gone. Ten gold pieces!' He gave a wry laugh and shook his head. 'A man once paid a thousand pieces of gold to heal a crooked arm. It took less power than your friend's eye.' Ardlin sighed and fell silent as Tarantio counted out the coins and dropped them into his outstretched palm. 'Tell me, swordsman,

why were you so confident that I would take such a paltry sum?'

'Look around you, magicker,' answered Tarantio. This grand house is empty of ornament. There are indentations in the rugs where furniture once stood. You are poorer than a blind beggar, and in no situation to haggle.'

'Sadly true,' admitted Ardlin. 'But at such times is it not cruel to take advantage of a man's misfortunes? The work I have done for your friend is worth far more than ten coins. He has the eye of an eagle now.'

'Aye, maybe it is,' admitted Tarantio. 'But that was the bargain. And I have honoured it.'

Ardlin's thin face sagged. 'I need to get out of the city, Tarantio. These coins will book me passage on a ship from Loretheli. But I have no means to purchase a horse to get there. I beg you to reconsider. My life depends upon it.'

Brune awoke and sat up, blinking. 'I can see everything,' he cried happily. 'Better than ever before!' He moved to the window and stared at the trees outside. 'I can see the leaves, one by one.'

'That is good,' said Tarantio. 'Very good.' Turning to the magicker, he stood for a moment in silence.

Then his face relaxed and he smiled. 'Go to the merchant, Lunder. Tell him I sent you. Tell him Tarantio says to supply you with funds for a good horse and supplies.'

'Thank you,' said Ardlin humbly. 'In return, let me offer you this advice: Leave the city. It is doomed.'

'The armies of Remark won't lay siege to Corduin,' said Tarantio. 'Too costly.'

'I am not talking about the wars of men, swordsman. The Daroth have returned.'

Karis, Capel and the boy, Goran, were led into the Duke's private rooms. The ruler of Corduin looked older than

Karis remembered; his thin beard, closely shaved to his chin, was salt and pepper now, but his dark hooded eyes were as coldly alert and intelligent as ever. He sat on his high-backed chair, leaning forward, his slender arms resting on his knees as Capel gave his report. Then he turned his hawk eyes on Karis.

'You saw all this?' he asked her.

'I did not see the attack on his men, nor the dark moon rising. But I saw the Daroth. He speaks the truth, my lord.'

'And how was it that you were riding into my lands, Karis? Do you not serve Sirano?' He almost spat out the name.

'I did, my lord.' Swiftly Karis told him of the experiments with the Pearl, and of the ghostly vision of the Eldarin. 'He warned Sirano that a great evil would be unleashed. Sirano did not listen. I believe the Daroth were the evil he spoke of.'

Turning to a manservant standing close by, the Duke ordered his Council to be gathered. The man ran from the room. 'I have studied history all my life,' said the Duke. 'History and myth. Often have I wondered where the two meet. Now, thanks to the insane ambition of Romark, I am to find out.' Rising from his chair he walked to the bookshelves lining the far wall, and selected a thick leather-bound tome. 'Come with me to the Meeting Hall,' he said. With the book under his arm he made for the door, where he stopped and waited; just for a moment the ruler of Corduin seemed lost and confused. Karis suppressed a smile, wondering how long it had been since he had been forced to open a door for himself. Then she moved forward to open it for him. The Duke strode out into the hallway beyond and led them deep into the palace. There was a huge, rectangular table in the Meeting Hall, and

seats for thirty councillors. The Duke sat at the head of the table and opened the book, tracing the words with his fingers as he read. Karis, Capel and the boy, Goran, stood silently beside him.

The first of the councillors arrived within minutes, but they did not disturb the Duke; they merely sat quietly in their places. Gradually the chairs began to fill. The last to arrive was the swordsman, Vint, the Duke's Champion. Dressed in a stylish tunic of oiled leather embossed with silver swirls, he looked just as cruelly handsome as Karis remembered. He had not sported the shaved crescents above his ears when last she had seen him, nor the two silver earrings in his left ear. But then fashions among the nobility changed faster than the seasons. He flashed her a broad smile, and gave an extravagant bow. 'Always a pleasure to see you, my lady,' he said.

The Duke looked up. 'You are late, Vint.'

'My apologies, my lord. I was on my way to a duel, but I got here as fast as I could.'

'I don't like you fighting for anyone but me,' said the Duke. 'However, that is a small matter. I hope the man you killed was not a friend of mine?'

'Happily no, my lord. And there was no duel. Your servant found me as I was on my way to his home. I have, of course, sent a message to him, apologizing for the necessity of postponing our meeting.'

'Well, sit you down,' said the Duke. 'I think you will find the duel postponed indefinitely.' He glanced up and scanned the faces of his councillors. 'All of you listen well to what you are about to hear. Understand that this is no jest. The decisions made here today will affect us all for the rest of our lives. Those lives, I should add, might not be very long-lived.' Turning his head, he glanced at Goran. 'You speak first, boy. Tell it all as you told me.'

Nervous and trembling in such company, Goran began to speak at speed, his words tumbling out. Karis stopped him. 'Slowly, boy. Take it from the beginning. You were looking after your sheep, and then you saw something. Go from there.'

Goran took a deep breath, then told of what he had seen. Then Capel addressed them, outlining the tragedy that had befallen his captain and most of the men. Lastly Karis spoke, describing the actions of Sirano and the words of the Eldarin ghost.

Then there was silence. It was Vint who broke it. 'I know nothing of these Daroth,' he said, 'but if they can bleed I can kill them.'

'Do not be too sure,' warned Karis. 'When my horse leapt the gully I put an arrow into the throat of one of them. It was a lucky shot, but it struck true. Not only did it not kill him, but he clambered out of the gully, tore the arrow loose and threw it aside. They are huge, these Daroth, and mightily muscled.'

'Karis is quite correct,' said the Duke. 'No arrow or sword can kill them. That's what it says here, in this ancient book. In war they are sublime killers, impervious to pain. Their strength is prodigious. Many of the stories here are -in essence - myths. But all myths contain a grain of truth. According to this source there were. . .are?. . .seven cities of the Daroth. Twenty thousand or so Daroth live in each city. There is a map here. Five of the Daroth cities are too far away to trouble us now. One other is more than two months' ride from Corduin. That leaves only the last; it has no name, but we will call it Daroth One. Let us assume that there are twenty thousand Daroth living there. What size of army could they muster? And what must we do to combat them?' His dark eyes scanned the assembly. 'Let us begin with reaction to what we have heard.'

One by one the councillors spoke, asking questions of Capel, Goran and Karis. The warrior woman coolly read the mood of the councillors: they were stumbling in the dark, confused and uncertain.

After the meeting had been in progress for an hour, she stepped up to the Duke. 'If I may, my lord?' she said, with a bow. 'I do have a suggestion.'