Chapter 18

In the late afternoon King Zendi’s encampment was sighted and a few minutes later Voldi dismounted at the main entrance to the extensive compound, warmly greeted by the amazed sentries. Soon he was surrounded by a score of excited household servants and hostlers, patting and stroking the steaming Darik, who slobbered over all of them with cordial impartiality.

Wrinkled old Kedar now came limping up, elbowing his way through the pack to Voldi, who affectionately laid a hand on the bent shoulder.

‘You have ridden him hard, sir!’ growled old Kedar, turning gruff to hide his emotion.

‘It was his own idea, Kedar,’ laughed Voldi. ‘Once he was on a familiar road, there was no holding him in…But tell me: how are Their Majesties?’

‘They are well, sir, but very sad today. You have come home none too soon. Councillor Mishma is ill; very low. The King and Queen are over there now. You must go—without a moment’s delay. I’ll get you a fresh horse.’

Ione, pale, thin, and nervous, crept timidly into the circle. Voldi threw his arm around her and drew her closely to him. He bent and whispered into her ear.

‘Fara is safe and well, Ione, and sends her best love to you. I shall tell you everything, when I return. I must go now—to my grandfather.’

In a few minutes he had dashed away to Mishma’s encampment, five miles distant. The commodious paddock was filled with beautiful horses, some of which Voldi recognized. His unannounced entrance into the Chief Councillor’s spacious bedchamber was greeted with gasps of surprise and relief by the sober-faced group of old retainers clustered within the doorway. The tall, dignified members of the King’s Council stood in statuesque silence with Zendi in the midst of them, a distinguished figure, his hair prematurely greying. It was evident, by the posture and demeanour of all present, that they were waiting for the end to come.

Kitra gave a little cry of gladness in her grief and rushed forward to embrace her son. Taking him by the hand she led him to the bedside; and, raising her voice, called:

‘See, father! Here is Voldi!’

The frail old Titan laboriously opened his eyes and gave a wan smile. Voldi dropped to his knees and slipped his arm tenderly around the thin, deep-lined neck. Mishma was trying to speak. With a great effort he managed to ask huskily:

‘Did you find her?’