"When a fish is caught and lies in the net," he thought, "one sees the luster dying slowly out of its scales. And yet--how else to eat the fish?"
He turned once more, this time at the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor. The gong of the clock near the Peacock Gate had not long struck the tenth hour and he had not expected Ged-la-Dan's arrival so soon. Zilthe, older now but still trim, quick and light-stepping, came into the hall, raising her palm to her forehead with the smile of a friend. Of all the girls who had come from Quiso or had since entered the service of Shardik, Zilthe alone possessed both grace and a light heart, and Kelderek's somber mood softened as he returned her smile.
"Has Lord Ged-la-Dan come so soon?"
"No, my lord," replied the girl. "It is General Zelda who wishes to see you. He says that he hopes the time is convenient, for he needs to speak with you soon. He did not say so, my lord, but I believe that he wants to see you before General Ged-la-Dan arrives."
"I will go out to him," said Kelderek. "Watch by Lord Shardik--you or another. He must not be left alone."
"I will feed him, my lord--it is time."
"Then put the food in the Rock Pit. If he will go out there for a while, so much the better."
Zelda was waiting on the sun terrace that ran along the south side of the hall, his dark red cloak drawn close against the chilly breeze. Kelderek joined him and together they walked across the gardens and on into the fields lying between the Barb and the Leopard Hill.
"You have been watching with Lord Shardik?" asked Zelda.
"For several hours. He is disturbed and fretful."
"You speak as though he were a sick child."
"At these times we treat him as such. It may be nothing--but I would be happier if I were sure that he is not sick."
"Perhaps--could it be--" Zelda paused, but then said only, "much sickness is ended by the coming of summer. He will soon be better."
They rounded the western shore of the Barb and began to cross the pasture slope beyond. Before them, about three quarters of a mile away, lay that part of the city walls that ran uphill to encircle Crandor's eastern spur.
"Who's that fellow coming down toward us?" asked Zelda, pointing.
Kelderek looked. "Some nobleman--a stranger. It must be one of the provincial delegates."
"A southerner by the look of him--too dandified for any northern or western province. Why is he walking here alone, I wonder?"
"He's free to do so if he wishes, I suppose. Many who visit the city like to be able to say that they've walked entirely around the city walls."
The stranger came on, bowed graciously with a rather affected sweep of his fur cloak, and passed by.
"Do you know him?" asked Zelda.
"Elleroth, Ban of Sarkid--a man about whom I've found out a good deal."
"Why? Isn't he safe?"
"Possibly--possibly not. It's strange that he should have come himself as delegate. He was with Erketlis in the Slave Wars--in fact he's been a noted Heldro in his time. There's no particular reason why he should have changed his ideas, but all the same I was advised that it would be safer to leave him alone than to try to get rid of him. He has a lot of influence and standing with his own people, and as far as I can learn he's never done us any actual harm."
"But has he helped us?"
"Lapan's been fought over so much that it's hard to say. If a local ruler takes care to keep in with both sides, who's to blame him? There's nothing known against him except his record before we came."
"Well, we'll see what he has to offer us at the Council."
Still Zelda seemed hesitant to talk of whatever had led him to seek out Kelderek, and after a little Kelderek spoke again.
"Since we're talking of the delegates, I ought to mention another to you--the man you recently appointed as governor of Kabin."
"Mollo? What about him? By the way, that man is staring after us--I wonder why."
"Strangers not uncommonly stare after me," replied Kelderek with a faint smile. "I've become accustomed to it."
"That's it, no doubt. Well, what about Mollo? S'marr Torruin of the Foothills recommended him--says he's known him for years. He seems an excellent man."
"I've learned that until a short time ago he was a provincial governor in Deelguy."
"In Deelguy? Why did he leave?"
"Exactly. To take up his patrimony of a small estate in Kabin? I'm inclined to doubt it. Our present relations with Deelguy are strained and difficult--we don't know what they may be intending. I wonder whether we ought to risk this appointment of yours--we might be walking into a trap. A knife in the back from Kabin would be bad just at the moment."
"I think you're right, Kelderek. I knew nothing of this. I'll speak to Mollo myself tomorrow. We can't afford any risk in Kabin. I'll tell him we've decided that after all we ought to have a man with special knowledge of the reservoir."
He fell silent again. Kelderek veered a little downhill to the left, thinking that by thus seeming to commence their return he might loosen the baron's tongue.
"What do you think of the war now?" asked Zelda suddenly.
"Ask the kites and crows, they're the ones that knows," replied Kelderek, quoting a soldiers' proverb.
"Seriously, Kelderek--and entirely between ourselves?"
Kelderek shrugged his shoulders. "You mean its prospects? You know more of those than I."
"You say Lord Shardik seems ill at ease?" persisted Zelda.
"Not every mood or ailment of Lord Shardik is a portent of the war. If that were so, a child could read the omens."
"Believe me, Kelderek, I don't question your insight as priest of Shardik--nor you my generalship, I hope."
"Why do you say that?"
Zelda stopped and looked around at the open, rough pasture about them. Then he sat down on the ground. After a few moments' hesitation Kelderek joined him.
"To sit here may not become our dignity," said Zelda, "but I prefer to speak where none can overhear. And I warn you, Kelderek, that if need be I shall deny that I ever spoke at all."
Kelderek made no reply.
"More than five years ago we took this city; and there's not a man who fought in that campaign but knows that we did so by the will of Shardik. But what's his will now? I wonder whether I'm the first to feel perplexed on that score."
"I dare say you're not."