CHAPTER FIFTEEN

His night was spent miserably in a shallow depression beneath a rocky outcrop. He had gathered rushes to make a kind of bed, and enough to provide a thin, inadequate covering and he may have dozed off once or twice but was too cold to sleep properly. At sunrise he searched for water, coming across a clear stream from which he slaked his thirst. He ate some hard, unripe berries, then returned to the track and once more headed towards the town.
The sun was well up when he heard the sound of horses' hooves behind him. He stood to one side, but when the riders came up to him they stopped. There were three of them. One called down, and Chaldez was about to shrug and shake his head to show incomprehension when he realised he was being asked if he had belonged to the potters. He nodded. A moment later he was being hauled up behind one of the riders, and hardly was he in position than they all set off at a canter, presently striking away from the main track along a rough path.
They rode on for a while, passing a number of farmsteads and hamlets, and at last approached a steep embankment surmounted by tall wooden stakes. Clustered near-by were five or six of the half-buried houses which were typical of the island.
The riders followed the track as it threaded among them and arrived at a gateway in the embankment. The gates were open and they rode through.
In the enclosed space beyond them were a number of single-storey wooden buildings, one being noticeably larger and generally more imposing than the rest.
Before sundown that day Chaldez had been fed and put to work in a kitchen. He was to sleep, he found out, in a dormitory with 20 or so other menials whose initial curiosity did not long survive the discovery that he understood little of what they asked him. Very soon they were behaving as though he was not there.
Chaldez was still too bewildered to be able to give much thought to his new predicament, but as he lay on the loose straw in one corner of the long, low room he remembered his resolve to behave always like a prince; he would not be cowered by anyone.
In the kitchen he had to hump carcasses, scrub roots, bring in wood for the vast cooking fires, and help keep the cooks supplied with water from the well. He was treated by everyone with indifference, but not treated badly. And the food was better and more plentiful than that which Venna had given him.
Eight days after his arrival he saw Dan Pemmel. He shouted his name and Dan turned; for an instant he seemed not to recognise him, and in that instant Chaldez was filled with a sudden terror: would he pretend not to know him? Dan stared, unable to believe his eyes. His friend, if it were his friend, was barely recognisable. He was taller than he remembered, his face was gaunt and pale, and he was dressed in rags.
"Chaldez!" he shouted. Excusing himself from his companions, he ran to him, stopped when he was still a couple of paces away and exclaimed "By the gods!"
Chaldez grinned. Then he pulled himself up straighter and rather stiffly held out his hand. Dan was momentarily perplexed, and then embarrassed. "Not here," he said, realising that Chaldez expected him to kiss it. "Not now. I'll explain later. It's best they don't know," and he indicated the group from which he had just detached himself. "Come," he said, "I'll take you to Datzcrig."
Chaldez walked along with him towards the main entrance to what he now knew to be the master's hall. He was aware that the two of them were the object of intense interest. "Datzcrig?" he asked.

"My master," replied Dan, then corrected himself. "Our master. He's the ruler here. A powerful man. This way."
For all his importance, Datzcrig was prepared to grant Dan an interview almost straight away. Dan addressed him in his tongue, then whispered to Chaldez "I've told him you were in the shipwreck."
Datzcrig, a heavily-built man with a craggy face all-but hidden by a massive red beard and heavy eyebrows, looked at Chaldez, and then spoke to Dan, who bowed and backed away. The audience was over.
Chaldez was removed from the kitchen, given fresh clothes and assigned to Dan, who in turn was an underling on the steward's staff. The steward, Chaldez found out soon enough, was a compactly-built individual with a brusque manner, a hearty laugh and a short temper. His name was Kaddigs.
As soon as Chaldez and Dan-Pemmel were able to, they caught up with each other's news.
Dan was appalled by what Chaldez told him. Then he said "I didn't go over with the wave that took you: managed to grab something and stopped myself going, but it didn't make much difference because the boat was breaking up anyway so I had to jump. There was a lot of wreckage and stuff in the water and like you it kept me afloat 'til I got to the beach."
Chaldez asked "Your mother . . . ?"
Dan hesitated; raised his eyes, and Chaldez wished he had not spoken. He would have hated to see his friend cry, but Dan quickly took charge of his emotions. He cleared his throat. "The wave that took you . . . I didn't see her again . . . " he frowned and Chaldez knew he was reliving those awful moments on the deck of The Serrin. Chaldez, for some reason, had known that Lewvin was dead; he had known it from the moment he had seen Dan in the town and to some extent he had come to terms with it, but Lewvin had been a mother to him and having to confront the fact of her death was a shock to him. Both boys were silent for a while, then Chaldez said "I owe her my life. I will pray to Murgeve" (Lord of the Dead) "for her soul. She and my mother will be a comfort to each other."
Dan was closer to tears than he cared to be. "Where I got washed up there wasn't anyone," he said briskly. " I got to the top of the cliff and just walked and walked. A shepherd found me, took me in, gave me some food. I helped him for a bit then ended up in Tinsig - the town where you saw me - and got by with any jobs I could find. Mostly I worked for Azarig a carpenter. Someone ordered a chest from him and I helped him with it, then when we'd finished I helped him take it to the customer's house. On the way back some ruffians ambushed us - they must have thought he'd got some coin on him. Well . . . Azarig can look after himself, and you know me! There were four of them but they were soon sorry they'd ever bothered us! We were just seeing them off when Kaddigs and an escort turned up. I suppose he could see I knew what I was about and he brought me back to serve Datzcrig."
It was to become clear to Chaldez that despite his age - he was not yet 15 - Dan had done very well for himself. He was being trained to serve in Datzcrig's bodyguard, but not only that; as one of Kaddigs' underlings he was already part of Datzcrig's executive arm, and Datzcrig, an absolute ruler who collected his own taxes, administered his own law and maintained the peace throughout his island, had need of a strong one.
* * * *

After their interview with Datzcrig, Dan and Chaldez reported to Kaddigs the Steward. He walked all round his new recruit, sizing him up, then handed him a sword and told him to use it against him, if he knew how.
For a while Chaldez laboured away ineffectually with the heavy two-handed piece, and then lost it to a twisting counter stroke, its blade clanging against a stone. The remark Kaddigs made was lost on Chaldez, but he was clearly not very impressed. (Afterwards Dan told him that the Steward had complimented him on the quality of his teacher, but regretted that so little of his skill had been passed on).
Kaddigs was just turning away when the Roe Aada locket caught his eye. "What's that?" he said, pointing at it.
Since his arrival at Datzcrig's fortress, Chaldez had learned more of the islanders' language than he had done in all the time he had been the potters's slave, but he still lacked the words to tell Kaddigs what he now demanded to know. Dan intervened. It was, he said, a family heirloom.
Later Chaldez asked: "Why didn't you tell him? Why don't you want them to know who I am?"
"I don't trust Datzcrig," said Dan. "He'd hold you prisoner."
"What good would it do him?"
"Ransom."
Chaldez was incredulous. "Who would pay a ransom for me? The usurper Sigmar? I'm not worth my weight in sand. What's the word here for prince? If you don't tell Datzcrig I will."
Dan held out, but it was clear that Chaldez would not be deflected. He requested another audience with Datzcrig but this time it was two days before he and Dan were admitted to the nobleman's presence. They stood before him while he quaffed wine from a richly ornamented golden chalice. His mood was very different from that of the earlier interview. Now he was bellicose, and, Chaldez thought, probably dangerous.
"Well?" he demanded.