The next morning, when Arslan woke from a deep, dreamless sleep, the autumn sun was already high in the sky. He felt somewhat ashamed of indulging in such slumber despite the countless uncertainties and hardships that awaited him.
On the wooden floor lay a neatly arranged set of bedding, likely used by Dariun. The thought that he, simply on the virtue of being the shah’s son, had taken such privilege for himself made Arslan uneasy. He quickly changed clothes and went to the next room, where Dariun and Narses also seemed to have just gotten up.
As the three exchanged greetings, the sound of several horses’ hooves pounded outside. Everyone inside tensed at once.
Through a narrow gap in the half-open window, Dariun looked outside. He did not have time to put on armor, but he held his sheathed longsword in one hand.
“I recognize their faces. They’re Qaran’s men.”
“I see,” Narses murmured, pinching his chin with his fingers. “So they came all the way here looking for you. A great guess. Qaran does train his men well.”
Narses abruptly fell silent and eyed Dariun suspiciously. Dariun tried to act nonchalant, but Narses pressed him sharply.
“I forgot to ask you, Dariun. What route did you take to get here?”
Arslan looked at him in surprise. Feeling the prince’s gaze on his face, Dariun shrugged his broad shoulders and named several places.
“…and that’s about it.”
“Near Qaran’s castle?!” Narses groaned, glaring at Dariun icily. “You rogue. There were other routes, and yet you deliberately chose one where Qaran’s men would spot you. You planned from the start to drag me into this and turn me into your ally, didn’t you?”
Caught out, Dariun straightened himself. “I’d ask for your forgiveness, though I doubt it would matter. I chose that path solely because I valued your wisdom. Since it has come to this, you should abandon your reclusive life and serve His Highness instead.”
Narses groaned again and stomped the floor. There was no time to settle things with Dariun.
He told Arslan and Dariun to go into the next room, climb into the attic, and pull up the ladder.
From the entrance came the voice of Elam. “Master Narses is still asleep. Please come back another time—hey, that’s rude!”
The door was thrown open violently, and Elam was shoved inside by a soldier, tumbling onto the floor. As Narses helped him up, six armored knights had already entered the room. Their hands rested on their sword hilts. They must know of Narses’s reputation.
The eldest among them stepped forward. “You’re Sir Narses, former lord of Daylam, are you not?”
“I am nothing more than a simple hermit now.”
“So you are Sir Narses?”
“Yes, I am indeed Narses. Since I have given my name, should you not also reveal your identity?”
His voice dropped so low it was almost imperceptible. The knights seemed to be intimidated for a moment, but when they saw he carried no sword, they relaxed, and offered a somewhat formal greeting.
In the darkness of the attic, Dariun’s tall frame shifted slightly. Arslan felt his breath catch. Since Shah Andragoras had taken the throne, there had only been one commander-in-chief of Pars—Vahriz.
“Eran Qaran—a fine title, with a pleasant rhyme to it,” Narses said. “Still, how the world changes. When I left the court, the Eran of this kingdom was old Vahriz. Has he retired?” He raised his voice slightly so Dariun and Arslan could hear everything clearly. “Or has he perhaps died?”
“Old Vahriz is indeed dead. But not from illness. By now that wrinkled neck is probably displayed before the gates of Ecbatana, his cracked mouth urging the people inside the city to surrender.”
Dariun’s body shook, and the sound carried through the thick ceiling boards, drawing the suspicion of the knights.
“What was that sound?”
“A field mouse,” Narses said. “They get into the grain stores. Quite troublesome. Now, what brings you here so early in the morning?”
There was no real need to ask, but he did so anyway with deliberate calm.
The knight’s lips twisted in annoyance. “We’ve received reports that the defeated Arslan and Dariun have fled into these mountains. Do you know anything about this?”
“I know nothing of it.”
“Really?”
“You say defeated, but there is no way Dariun could lose, unless he were betrayed in some particularly despicable manner.”
The knights’ faces tightened with anger, but their leader restrained them.
“There is another matter. Eran Qaran wishes to take you into his service. He holds your strategic acumen and skill with the sword in high regard.”
Narses stroked his chin with disinterest. “If I were to enter Sir Qaran’s service, what could I expect in return?”
“All rights as a believer in Yaldabaoth.”
Narses fell silent.
“And furthermore, your former lordship over the province of Daylam would be restored. What is your answer?”
“Must I answer here and now?”
“Preferably, yes.”
A venomous smile appeared on Narses’s face. “Then go back and tell that dog Qaran this: you can enjoy your rotten meat alone. It’s far too foul for me.”
Narses leapt backward. Six bursts of rage and six drawn swords lunged at him. The knights believed victory was certain—it was six against one—but only for an instant.
A section of the floorboards, roughly three gaz square, suddenly opened. Shouting and screaming, the knights fell into the deep space beneath the floor. A heavy splash and the clatter of armor drifted up. It was a pitfall filled with water.
Narses threw out his chest. Horrible curses rose from the dark pit below, but he ignored them and called for Arslan and Dariun to come down from the attic.
Dariun stepped up and peered into the darkness of the trap. “They won’t be climbing back up, will they?”
“Don’t worry,” Narses said. “It’s seven gaz from the water to the floor above. Unless they’re related to newts, they won’t be climbing out. The question is what we should do with them.”
“If my uncle has been slain, then they’re his killers’ accomplices. I’ll give them what they deserve.” There was a dangerous edge in Dariun’s voice.
Narses fell into thought, then said, “Wait a moment. Killing people doesn’t put food on the table. Let’s think of something more useful to do with them.”
“Won’t they drown?” Arslan asked.
“No need to worry, Your Highness,” Narses replied. “The water is only about one gaz deep. They won’t drown unless they want to.”
“Master Narses, breakfast has been ready for a while,” Elam cut in. “What should we do with it?”
“Oh. I forgot.” A faint, amused smile spread across Narses’s lips. “Then let us eat first. We can deal with those rude guests anytime. Food, on the other hand, has its proper moment to be enjoyed.”
It was hard to tell whether he was fearless, carefree, or simply eccentric.
They decided to eat breakfast. Arslan thought about helping Elam prepare the meal. He felt somewhat uneasy sitting still while a boy his own age worked. But Elam politely refused his offer, albeit in a rather curt manner. In short, he would only get in the way.
As a result, while Arslan focused on eating, he felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction about himself. Since the previous day, he had done nothing but receive help from others without doing anything in return. He wondered if he was of any use to anyone at all.
Suddenly, Narses picked up an empty plate and flicked his wrist. The plate spun through the air and struck one of the knights squarely in the face just as he tried to climb out of the pit. Groans of rage and pain were followed by the clatter of armor and the splash of water. They had tried to climb out by stacking themselves on each other, but the moment they reached the surface, they were knocked back down again.
“Sorry, but you’ll have to try again,” Narses said spitefully.
“Master Narses, please don’t waste the dishes,” Elam said.
“Sorry, sorry,” Narses muttered, scratching his head. Even this carefree man appeared to have someone he could not easily defy.
“Master Dariun, you don’t seem to be eating much. Should I prepare something else?” Elam asked.
“No, this is enough,” Dariun said.
Narses suddenly frowned. “You don’t need to do anything for this rogue. Thanks to him, I will have to find a new hiding place.”
“Like I said, just stop being a hermit.”
“Shut up, traitor. Keep out of my peaceful way of life.”
Narses looked as if he would not listen to another word. Dariun sighed and fell silent, perhaps thinking of how to question the men in the pit about his uncle’s death.