On this occasion, the emperor hunted for a full ten days
without success, until at last his party surprised a bandit
encampment. There bandits they fought and bandits they killed,
though some of the lawless escaped from this first attack.
           The first attack was led by Thodric Jarl, the gray-bearded
uitlander who was renowned as the mightiest of the Witchlord's
warriors. In that autumn, the autumn of the year Alliance 4305,
Thodric Jarl was only 24 years of age, yet he was as gray as
gnarled death and as cold in his killing as icelock rapture or
midwinter famine.
           Cleaving the air with bloodstroke upon bloodstroke, Jarl made
his bitter steel sing. He hacked the bandit leader down, then
claimed for himself the choicest treasure found in the bandit camp
- a thing of female gender which named itself Yerzerdayla.
The female thing was brought in chains to the imperial battle
base, where it was seen by the young Guest Gulkan, the self-styled
Weaponmaster, he who at the age of 14 laid claim to a man's
estate, though he was still possessed of much of a child's
impetuous unreliability. Guest Gulkan stood in his muddy boots,
smelling like a slaughterhouse, and gaped at Yerzerdayla. For this
captive slave - dressed in silks and chained by jade clasped with
silverbright - looked more like an imperial aristocrat than one of
common flesh.
           "I am in love," said Guest, who was of a certainty in lust.
           Such was the first meeting of Guest Gulkan and the elegant
Yerzerdayla, she of the blonde body and the perfumed hair.
           Then:-
           "Who is the woman?" asked Guest.
           "She is a thing claimed already by Thodric Jarl," answered
Yerzerdayla's keepers.
           "Claim he may," said Guest. "But I will have!"
           In fact, it would have been politic for Guest Gulkan to lose
interest in any flesh owned by any killer as grim and humorless
as Thodric Jarl. But Guest, in those days of his ego, felt free to
conduct himself like the imperial heir he was not. So he sought
out Thodric Jarl, meaning to demand the surrender of the woman
Yerzerdayla.
           Young Guest found Jarl supervising the forced labors of the
surviving male prisoners, who were digging pits for a purpose which had not been explained to them. It was cold, but Jarl was warm in a
weather jacket bought from the emperor's league riders - uitlander
mercenaries every bit as barbarous as himself. The prisoners were
also warm, for under Jarl's surveillance they were digging
themselves into a mass of sweat and blisters.
           "Ho, Jarl!" said Guest.
           "Ho!" said Jarl.
           "I'd like a word with you," said Guest.
           "Then speak," said Jarl.
           So far, so good; for at least they had exchanged several
civil words without swapping threats of violence. Given that both
were extremely dangerous men - Guest being at that age a danger
mostly to himself, whereas Jarl was a menace to other people -
that was something to be thankful for.
           Now Guest had long been tutored in diplomacy by Hostaja Sken-
Pitilkin. The excellent Sken-Pitilkin had introduced Guest to all
those notions central to successful negotiation; but Guest was a
poor student, and proved it by botching his confrontation with
Thodric Jarl.
           When Jarl refused to give him the woman, Guest did not offer
him horses and hogsheads of wine in return; or let the matter drop
for the moment; or take no for an answer. Instead, he began to
rant, rage and bluster.
           "I am Guest Gulkan, son of Onosh Gulkan and rightful heir to
the lands of Tameran," said Guest. "How dare you deny me?"
           "I dare deny you," said Thodric Jarl, "for you are no heir to
anything but the lice in your father's bootboy's hair."
           "I'll have your blood for that!" said Guest in fury.
           "To have you must take," said Jarl.
           "Then take I will!" said Guest, lugging out his sword.
           But the sword was only half-lugged when Jarl gave young Guest
a push which sent him staggering backwards. Guest found empty air
beneath his boot - and fell. The boy Guest fell backwards into a
pit which four bandits were excavating. These four exhausted
wretches thought Guest had jumped down amongst them with murder
his intent. Despairing of life, they nevertheless put up as much
of a fight as they could, and Guest was put to the necessity of
killing them before he could scramble out of the pit.
           As Guest was scrambling, Jarl kicked him under the chin,
sending him tumbling backwards onto the cushion of the corpses he
had so recently created.
           "Nicely timed," said the dwarf Glambrax, who was following
this conflict with the interest of a born spectator.
           "I've had practice," said Jarl.
           "That wasn't fair," said Guest, looking up from the blood and
muck at the bottom of the pit.
           "Neither is this," said Jarl, picking up a huge rock which
required both hands to lift it.
           "You wouldn't dare," said Guest, doing his best to sneer at
the rock.
           Jarl dared.
           He hurled the rock down on the hapless Weaponmaster.
           Guest screamed. He couldn't help himself! He threw up both
hands in a hopeless attempt to protect himself.
           The rock smashed into his hands.
           And burst into fragments, for in the proof of the impact it
proved to be no rock at all, but, rather, a cohesive mass of
earth.
           As Guest was spitting out bits of earth - he had been
screaming as the stuff smashed into his arms, and in consequence
had been gifted with a mouthful of the stuff - Thodric Jarl
completed his victory by spitting on the unfortunate Weaponmaster.
           Thus Guest met Jarl in combat, and was defeated, which was
only to be expected. For Jarl was as handy with fist and boot as
he was with edged weapons; whereas Guest, though he had long
studied the art of the boast under the guidance of Rolf Thelemite,
was no match for the professional brutality of Thodric Jarl.
           In the disappointment of his defeat, Guest lacked the sense
to abandon his woman-quest. Instead, once he had rescued himself
from the pit, Guest Gulkan went to his father to demand revenge
upon Jarl, and to demand likewise the possession of Yerzerdayla's
loins.
           The young Weaponmaster discovered Lord Onosh seated outdoors by a roaring bonfire, snugged against the weather in the warm folds of a snow-coat. The emperor was feeding upon a fine wheat loaf which smelt as if it had just been freshly baked, as indeed it had, for the imperial master chef Pelagius Zozimus had been giving a bravura display of field cookery.
           "Father," said Guest, without preamble, and without asking
permission to speak.
           Lord Onosh tossed the remains of the machet to the dwarf
Glambrax, who had already given him a vibrant account of the epic
battle between the man Jarl and the boy Guest. Glambrax bit gleefully at his fresh-caught trophy then started to juggle with it. As the dwarf performed, Lord Onosh turned his attention to Guest Gulkan.
           "So," said the Witchlord, "the larger of my two fools has
decided to put in an appearance. What tricks will it play for us
today?"
           "My lord," said Guest, doing his best to ignore this sally,
"I have a need for justice."
           "You," said Lord Onosh, looking him up and down, "have a need
for a bath."
           "A bath?" said Guest in astonishment.
           "You know the word, do you not?" said Lord Onosh. "It denotes
a thorough lavage of the body, a task best accomplished by
immersing the said body in a tub of warm water. In your case, the
use of wire brushes and sandpaper might also be advisable."
           "My lord jests," said Guest, who had had his last bath only
three years previously, and was not due for another until high
summer two years hence.
           "You have obviously not seen yourself in a mirror," said Lord
Onosh. "Glambrax! In the absence of a mirror, describe the boy to
himself!"
           "My lord," said Glambrax, accepting this assignment. "The boy
looks like an over-large mud beetle crawling drunk from a full-to-overflowing spittoon."
           "You dislike my appearance!" said Guest. "Why, then know
Thodric Jarl to be the cause of it!"
           "That much I have heard," said Lord Onosh imperturbably.
"When you see that good gentleman, be sure to thank him for the
lessons he has taught you."
           "The lessons?" said Guest in astonishment.
           "You have learnt, I hope, not to fight with a pit at your
back. That is the first lesson, and doubtless meditation will
reveal others of equal importance. But enough of the lessons! Pray
tell - what started your quarrel in the first place?"
           Guest, having a delicate matter to broach, should now have
asked for privacy - as he knew, for the scholarly Sken-Pitilkin
had taught him as much. But, instead, the foolish youth got right
to the meat of the matter.
           "There is a woman," said Guest.
           "At your age," said Lord Onosh, "there is always a woman.
Such is the nature of youth. Such is the nature of the greedy child."
           "You call me a child?" said Guest.
           "Yes, a child come to beg at the boots of his father," said Lord Onosh.
           "Can we discuss this in private?" said Guest, belatedly
remembering Sken-Pitilkin's advice.
           "Since you so rudely interrupted me in public, no," said Lord
Onosh.
           "Why not?" said Guest.
           "As a punishment for your insolence!" said Lord Onosh. "If
you come here to ask for a woman then ask for her, and the answer
is no, you can't have her, particularly not if she belongs to
Thodric Jarl."
           "Who said she belongs to Jarl?" said Guest.
           "If she occasioned your quarrel, who else could she possibly
belong to? Sken-Pitilkin, perhaps?"
           "The woman is but a slave," said Guest sullenly. "A slave, a
thing of no possible importance."
           "It is but a thing which belongs to Thodric Jarl," said Lord
Onosh.
           "He claimed it," protested Guest, "but all booty from bandits
is yours. Thus runs the law."
           Thus ran the law indeed, but by quoting it the young
Weaponmaster merely proved his poor grasp of the politics of an
imperial court much beset by assassins. Like Rolf Thelemite,
Thodric Jarl was a Rovac warrior, and hence his sword was of
inestimable value.
           To Guest, his father's few Rovac warriors had no value beyond
their novelty, and hence were disposable. But to Lord Onosh, these
uitlanders were valued bodyguards who, unlike the Yarglat, could
be trusted not to embroil themselves in the local clan-struggles.
So while Guest thought Jarl could be cheated with impunity, his
father thought otherwise; for Lord Onosh relied upon Jarl for the
security of his sleep.
           "Mine to give, mine to bestow," agreed Lord Onosh. "So I
bestow the thing on Thodric Jarl."
           "If I could," said Guest, rage overmastering sanity, "I would
fight you and kill you."
           "You would, would you?" said Lord Onosh coldly.
           Guest realized his error.
           But there was no unsaying such words.
           "I would," said Guest, struggling to match his courage to the
impetuosity of his tongue.
           "Then I will meet you by proxy in Gendormargensis," said Lord
Onosh. "I will be represented in the challenge by Thodric Jarl,
who will hack down your pride and leave it bloody on the stones."
           Guest Gulkan absorbed the implications of this, and backed
off, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Then he turned on
his heel and fled.
           "Where are my camp marshals?" said Lord Onosh, rising to his
feet, his face as thunder.
           The marshals were produced, and the emperor gave them his
orders.
           "Ready the camp for the move," said he. "We ride before dusk
and we ride by dark once night has come upon us."
           "But, my lord," ventured one of the marshals, "there is
tonight no moon."
           "So we ride by dark," said Lord Onosh. "We ride by dark, as I
said we would. If I must say it again then I will kill someone!"
           And, since no-one doubted that the emperor would be as good
as his word, ride they did - and soon!