With dawn, the defenders were ready, poised to answer the attackers when they came. But as he did at Armengar, Murmandamus approached the city. Lines of soldiers carrying the banners of the confederations and clans marched out, then opened their line to let their supreme commander come to the fore. He rode a huge black stallion, equal in beauty to the white steed he had ridden the last time. His helm was silver trimmed black and he held a black sword. Little in his appearance offered a reassuring image, yet his words were soft. They carried to everyone in the city, projected by Murmandamus’s arts. “O my children, though some of you have already opposed me, yet am I ever ready to forgive. Open your gates and I will offer solemn vow: any who wishes may quit and ride away, untroubled and unharried. Take whatever you desire, food, livestock, riches, and I’ll offer no obstacle.” He waved behind him and a dozen moredhel warriors rode forward to sit behind. “I will even offer hostages. These are among my most loyal chieftains. They will ride unarmed and unarmoured with you until you are safe within the walls of whatever other city you wish. Only this I ask. You must open your gates to me. Sethanon must be mine!”
Upon the walls the commanders observed this and Amos muttered, “The royal pig-lover is certainly anxious to get within the city. Damn me if I don’t almost believe him. I almost think we could all ride away if we would only give him the bloody place.”
Arutha looked at Guy. “I almost believe him too. I’ve never heard of any Dark Brother offering hostages.”
Guy ran his hand over his face, his expression one of worry and fatigue, a tiredness born of long suffering and not simply lack of sleep. “There’s something here he wants badly.”
Lord Humphry said, “Highness, can we deal with the creature?”
Arutha said, “It is your city, my lord Baron, but it is my brother’s Kingdom. I’m sure he’d be quite short with us if we went about giving portions of it away. No, we’ll not deal with him. As sweet as his words are, there’s nothing about him that makes me believe he’d honour his vows. I think he’d willingly sacrifice those chieftains of his without a thought. He’s never been bothered by his losses before. I’ve even come to think he welcomes the blood and slaughter. No, Guy’s right. He simply wants inside the walls as quickly as possible. And I would give a year’s taxes to know what it is he’s after.”
Amos said, “And I don’t think those chieftains look happy with the offer either.” Several moredhel leaders were exchanging hurried words with one another behind Murmandamus’s back. “I think things are rapidly becoming less than harmonious among the Dark Brothers.”
“Let us hope,” said Guy flatly.
Murmandamus’s horse spun and danced nervously as he shouted, “What, then, is your answer?”
Arutha stepped up on a box, so he might better be seen above the wall. “I say return to the north,” he shouted. “You have invaded lands that hold no bounty for you. Even now armies are marching against you. Return to the north before the passes are choked with snow and you die a cold and lonely death, far from your home.”
Murmandamus’s voice rose as he said, “Who speaks for the city?”
There was a moment’s silence, then Arutha shouted, “I, Arutha conDoin, Prince of Krondor, Heir to the throne of Rillanon,” and then he added a title not officially his, “Lord of the West.”
Murmandamus shrieked an inhuman cry of rage and something else, perhaps fear, and Jimmy nudged Amos. The former thief said, “That’s torn it. He’s definitely not amused.”
Amos only grinned and patted the young man on the shoulder. From the ranks of Murmandamus’s army there arose a murmuring as Amos said, “It sounds as if his army doesn’t like it either. Omens that turn out false can undermine a superstitious lot like these.”
Murmandamus cried, “Liar! False Prince! It is known the Prince of Krondor was slain! Why do you prevaricate? What is your purpose?”
Arutha stood higher, his features clear to see. The chieftains rode about in milling circles, engaged in animated discussion. He removed his talisman, given by the Abbot at Sarth, and held it forth. “By this talisman am I protected from your arts.” He handed it down to Jimmy. “Now you know the truth.”
Murmandamus’s constant companion, the Pantathian serpent priest, Cathos came forward at a shambling run. He tugged upon the stirrup of his master’s saddle, pointing at Arutha and speaking at a furious rate in the hissing language of his people. With a shriek of rage, Murmandamus kicked him away, knocking him to the ground. Amos spat over the wall. “I think that convinced them.”