The Nomad - By Simon Hawke Page 0,29

also finds actresses and dancing girls.”

“Ah,” said Sorak, nodding. “I see.”

“And what of yourself?” Valsavis asked. “Salt View seems like an unusual destination for a druid and a villichi priestess. Besides, I have heard that they are not very fond of preservers there.”

“There would be little purpose in preaching to the converted,” Sorak said.

“So then you are on a pilgrimage?”

“Salt View is an isolated village,” Sorak said. “If they are not fond of preservers, it is doubtless because they have had little if any contact with them. People are always suspicious and wary of that which they do not understand.”

“I seem to recall having heard somewhere that there is at least one preserver already in Salt View,” Valsavis said. “An old druid called the Quiet One. Or perhaps it was the Silent One, I do not quite recall.”

“The Silent One?” said Sorak, keeping his facial expression carefully neutral. “A curious name.”

“Then you have not heard it before?”

Sorak shrugged. “A druid who is silent does not do much to advance the preserver cause. How could he preach the Path and teach others how to follow it?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Valsavis replied. “I had not really thought of it that way.”

“And what of your sympathies?” asked Sorak. “Where do they lie?”

“I do not concern myself overmuch with the struggle between preservers and defilers,” said Valsavis. “I am just a soldier. I fail to see where it has anything to do with me.”

“It has very much to do with you,” said Sorak, “as it will determine the fate of the world you live in.”

“Perhaps,” Valsavis said dismissively, “but then there are many things that can determine a man’s fate, and most of them are things over which he has little control, if any. Political struggles concern me only insofar as whether one side or the other will employ me. As for the larger questions, there is not much a man like me can do to influence their outcome, so I pay them little heed.”

“If everyone believed that way, then there would be no hope for the world,” said Sorak. “I have found that there is much one man can do if he truly sets his mind to it.”

“Well, in that case, I shall leave the saving of the world to young idealists such as yourself,” Valsavis said wryly. “I am much too old and set in my ways to change. I shall help you save your priestess, Sorak. You may consider that my contribution to the larger struggle, if you wish.”

“Forgive me,” Sorak said. “I meant no offense. I have no right to tell you how to live your life, and I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I owe you much.”

“You owe me nothing,” said Valsavis. “Each man does what he does for his own reasons.”

“And he has not told you the truth about his,” the Guardian reminded Sorak.

Sorak chose not to press the issue. All that mattered now was Ryana’s safety. They spent the remainder of their wait in silence, watching the marauders bed down for the night. They took their time about it, however. As darkness fell, they remained gathered around their campfire, joking and drinking. Someone pulled out some dice and they played for a while. An argument broke out, and two of the marauders came to blows while the others watched and shouted their encouragement. They didn’t seem to care who won, just so that it would be an entertaining fight. Sorak thought it might be a good time to make their move, but Valsavis anticipated him, grasping him by the arm even before he had suggested it and saying, “No, not yet. Wait. Soon.”

Sorak’s patience was starting to wear thin. He was not sure how much longer he could wait. Eventually, several of the marauders retired to their bedrolls. The others remained awake, talking and drinking for a while, but soon they, too, went to sleep, leaving two of their number standing watch. As the others slept, the two who remained awake stayed by the campfire, rolling dice and talking quietly. After a while, their gaming became more animated.

“I suspect that they have just increased the stakes to something rather more interesting than money,” said Valsavis.

For a moment, Sorak did not know what he meant, but then he saw the two marauders casting covetous glances at Ryana. He tensed and clapped his hand to his sword hilt.

“Softly, my friend, softly,” said Valsavis.

“Surely, you do not intend for us to simply sit by idly and wait while those