The Swords of Night and Day by David Gemmell

of modern history. He had served the Eternal for centuries. Indeed, no one knew how old he was, nor how many lives the Eternal had granted him. His powers were enormous, and yet, despite them, he was easygoing and cordial with the young men who came to serve. He had been most helpful to Unwallis in those early years. Seeing him with gray hair and the lines of age upon his face had seemed almost unnatural. Unwallis sighed and found himself hoping that Landis would agree to the Eternal’s demands.
    Will it matter if he does?
    The thought was immediately chilling, and Unwallis tried to push it from his mind. The Eternal had told him to convey her wishes to Landis, but had then told him he would be accompanied by Decado. This had surprised him. Why send a deranged killer on a mission of diplomacy?
    The sun was going down. Unwallis heard the door of the apartment open and turned to see a young woman bearing a lantern and a taper. She curtseyed to him and moved around the apartment, lighting lanterns.
    Unwallis poured himself a goblet of wine, adding water to it. He did not want his senses impaired during the coming meal. There would be only four people present, he and Decado, plus Landis Khan and his nephew, Callan. Unwallis wondered why Gamal would not be joining them. His understanding was that the old man was now living with Landis.
    The girl curtseyed again and left the room.
    It would be an uncomfortable meal. Decado, when in pain, was not an easy man to spend time with. His manner became harsh and confrontational, his conversation limited to weapons and warfare. Unwallis found himself wondering what the Eternal saw in him as a lover. He recalled his time with her, and found once more the ache of regret filling him. It was not merely the joining of bodies, the passion and the extremes of pleasure, that haunted him. More it was the quiet times afterward as they lay upon the satin sheets and talked. Those moments lay in his memory like hidden treasures. He had been in love. Massively, completely, irrevocably in love. Then she had discarded him. He had felt like a man deprived of food and water, his soul starved. She had sent him across the sea, to serve her in the eastern empire. He had labored long and diligently there, hoping that one day she would call him back again to that satin-covered bed. She never had.
    Unwallis imagined the Eternal lying in the moonlight and talking and laughing with Decado. Free of pain he was a witty man, and he was young and handsome. The Eternal’s lovers were always young and handsome. It always surprised Unwallis when he thought of her laughing. The sound was rich and almost musical. It was a sound of joy that lifted the spirits of all who heard it. He found it hard to equate this wondrous woman with the ruthless queen who could casually order the deaths of thousands. Unwallis was forced to admit that he did not understand the Eternal at all. She could be harsh beyond reason, and cruel beyond measure. She could also display great affection and loyalty.
    A sense of melancholy settled on him, so great that his spirits were raised when Decado appeared in the doorway. The young swordsman’s long dark hair was pulled back from his head into a ponytail, and he was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt and leggings with calf-length riding boots of black leather. The only adornment he sported was a wide belt edged with silver.
    “Let’s get this over with,” said Decado.
    “How is your headache?”
    “Bearable.”
    Unwallis looked into his eyes. The pupils were distended, and the statesman knew he had imbibed more of Memnon’s narcotic to relieve his pain. Donning a cloak of cream-colored wool edged with silver, Unwallis walked out of the room.
    A servant was waiting at the far end of the corridor. She led them up a flight of stairs and into a long room, lit by glowing lanterns. A table had been set near a huge window overlooking the mountains. Landis Khan was standing by the window, talking to a