‘Go on.’
Veradis looked at Sumur, a silent shadow behind Nathair’s shoulder.
‘Sumur, wait for me outside.’
Sumur did not move.
‘Veradis is my oldest friend. My most loyal companion. There is more chance of my mother assassinating me than of Veradis turning against me. Please – outside.’
Sumur left quietly, looking back once at Veradis.
‘You can trust Sumur,’ Nathair said, ‘but sometimes I long for the old days, before my father . . .’ he trailed off, his hand searching out the draig’s tooth about his neck. Veradis instinctively touched the tooth in his own sword hilt.
‘Aye,’ Veradis agreed. ‘Everything seemed simpler then. You, I, your warband on a noble cause.’
‘It is still a noble cause, Veradis.’
‘I know that, up here,’ Veradis tapped his head. ‘But sometimes it does not feel it.’
‘Go on.’
‘In Forn, things were done. By Calidus. Betrayals. What you and I would once have called dark deeds. Dishonourable.’
‘You speak of Romar?’
‘In part.’
‘Romar was setting himself up in opposition to me. Becoming my enemy. In the coming war realms will either join me or fight me. There will be no middle ground.’ He looked enquiringly at Veradis. ‘Do you know what happened in the catacombs beneath Haldis?’
‘Only that Romar went in and never came out again. And that Calidus and Alcyon were part of that.’ And that my friend Kastell died as a result. He remembered Maquin’s words to him – be careful whose side you choose.
‘I see. Calidus has told me that Romar took the starstone axe, refused to give it up. He would have used it against me, and we have both heard of its power. That could not be allowed.’
Veradis sighed. Maybe. But it still does not feel right.
‘There is more you have to say.’ It was not a question.
‘Jael. I do not like him. You have told me to leave the politicking to Calidus, which I am more than happy to do, believe me . . .’
‘But?’
‘Aye. But, his choices in allies.’ He shook his head.
Nathair leaned back in his chair, nodding. Something in his face changed then – a glimmer of Veradis’ friend before the weight of kingship and prophecy had fallen upon him.
‘I agree with you. Have worried over these issues – and many others besides – for countless nights. But let me tell you that every single time I come back to the same point: Calidus is one of the Ben-Elim, a servant of Elyon. We both saw him change. I will never forget it. There are other arguments, convincing arguments – the alliance is fragile, and at present I do not hold the power to forge an empire. I hope that will change, but until it does, the future is the alliance and politics, and politics is compromise. I do not like Jael, I do not approve of some of the things that have been done to further my cause, but they have all been done for the greater good.’
The greater good – how many times have I told myself that?
Nathair paused and smiled. ‘I can see from your face that you have had the same thoughts. And they would be troubling indeed, if we did not have Calidus. Remember what we saw in Telassar; remember what we witnessed. He is a servant of Elyon. It is that memory that strengthens my will, that keeps me on my course. Let it do the same for you.’
He did remember, could still feel the shock, the awe of seeing Calidus transform before his eyes from an old man into a winged warrior. ‘It does,’ Veradis said. ‘I just . . .’
‘I know. War places a burden on us all, Veradis. The lives we have taken or ordered taken in the furtherance of our cause. The choices made.’
Veradis had no words for that, his thoughts spiralling.
‘Thank you, my friend,’ Nathair said, leaning forward and gripping Veradis’ wrist.
‘For what?’
‘For being honest. There is no one in all the earth that I can talk to as freely as you. Talking helps, eh? Crystallizes the problems and solutions.’
‘Aye.’ And it had helped, talking to Nathair. Discovering that his friend shared the same doubts and worries eased the sense of foreboding that had haunted him for so long.
‘So let us continue our war, in the knowledge that our cause is just and our goal vital.’
‘Aye, onwards.’