Drenai Series 07 - The Legend of Deathwalker Read Online Free PDF

down to numbers. Like those women in the fountain. A besieging army could say, "Kill six women and we'll spare the city." Well, there's only one right answer to that. But I couldn't tell you why I know it is right.'
    'But I can,' said Sieben, his anger fading. 'And it is something, in part at least, that I learned from you. The greatest evil we can perpetrate, is to make someone else do evil. The besieging army you speak of is actually saying: "Unless you commit a small evil act, we will commit a great one." The heroic response would naturally be to refuse. But diplomats and politicians are pragmatists, Druss. They live without any genuine understanding of honour. Am I right?'
    Druss smiled and clapped Sieben's shoulder. 'Aye, poet, you are. But I know that without turning a hair you could argue the opposite. So let us call an end to this.'
    'Agreed! We will call it even.'
    Druss switched his gaze to the south. Below them lay the centre of Old Gulgothir, a tightly packed and apparently haphazard jumble of buildings, homes, shops and workplaces, intersected by scores of narrow alleyways and roads. The old Keep Palace sat at the centre, like a squat, grey spider. Once the residence of kings, the Keep Palace was now used as a warehouse and granary. Druss looked to the west and the new Palace of the God-King, a colossal structure of white stone, its columns adorned with gold leaf, its statues - mostly of the King himself - crowned with silver and gold. Ornate gardens surrounded the palace, and even from here Druss could see the splendour of the royal blooms and the flowering trees. 'Have you seen the God-King yet?' asked the warrior.
    'I was close to the Royal Balcony while you were toying with the Lentrian. But all I saw were the backs of his guards. It is said he has his hair dyed with real gold.'
    'What do you mean toying ? The man was tough, and I can still feel the weight of his blows.'
    Sieben chuckled. 'Then wait until you meet the Gothir Champion, Druss. In combat the man is not human; it is said he has a punch like a thunderbolt. The odds are nine to one against you.'
    'Then maybe I'll lose,' grunted Druss, 'but don't wager on it!'
    'Oh, I won't be wagering a copper coin this time. I've met Klay. He is unique, Druss. In all the time I have known you I never met another man I thought could best you in combat. Until now.'
    'Pah!' snorted Druss. 'I wish I had a gold raq for every tune someone has told me another man was stronger, or faster, or better, or more deadly. And where are they now?'
    'Well, old horse,' answered Sieben coolly, 'they are mostly dead - slain by you in your endless quest to do what is good and pure and right.'
    Druss's eyes narrowed. 'I thought you said we were even.'
    Sieben spread his hands. 'Sorry. Couldn't resist it.'
*
    The Nadir warrior known as Talisman ducked into the alleyway and loped along it. The shouts of his pursuers were muted now, but he knew he had not lost them . . . not yet. Emerging into an open square, Talisman paused. There were many doors here - he counted six on each side of the square. 'This way! This way!' he heard someone shout. The moonlight shone brightly on the north and west walls as he ran to the south of the square and pressed his back against a recessed doorway. Here, in his long, black hooded cloak, he was all but invisible in the shadows. Talisman took a deep breath, fighting for calm. Absently his hand strayed towards his hip, where his long hunting-knife should have been. Silently he cursed. No Nadir warrior was allowed to carry weapons inside any Gothir city. He hated this place of stone and cobbles, with its seething masses and the resultant stench of humanity. Talisman longed for the open expanse of the Nadir steppes. Awesome mountains beneath a naked, burning sky, endless plains and valleys, where a man could ride for a year and never see another soul. On the steppes a man was alive. Not so here in this rats' nest of a city, its foul, polluted air carrying the