The old hunter dismounted and examined the ground. It was bare and rocky, and no track could be seen. To the left, by a jutting rock, lay an oak leaf. It had obviously fallen from the boy’s cloak disguise. Parax ran his fingers through his hair. Hunting was like a courtship, a union of mind and heart. Slowly the hunter came to know his prey, and in knowing him either liked or loathed him. Parax was beginning to like the boy. There was no panic in him: his movements were well planned, his route carefully considered. Yesterday he had killed a rabbit with a thrown rock, skinned it and eaten the flesh raw. He had also taken time to find edible roots and berries. And he did not run blindly. He doubled back occasionally to watch the hunters, to judge them, and, when the time was right, to pick them off.
Parax rode warily to the crest of a hill and shaded his eyes to scan the surrounding countryside. To the north-west were the Talis woods. Did the boy know enough not to go there? Parax thought about it. He had travelled with the Foreigner, and Banouin knew these parts well. He surely would have mentioned the dangers that lay in the dark heart of those woodlands. Where then would the boy head? The border with Ostro lands? It was likely. That was the direction he had come from, after all. Parax grinned. Sliding from the saddle he sat down on the hilltop.
The boy was canny and tough. He would know what they were expecting. Parax flicked his gaze towards the north-west. Was he rash enough to chance those woods?
Hoof beats sounded from the south and the five riders galloped up the hill. Parax swore under his breath. What was the point of tiring out the ponies in such a way? The riders were all young men from Bek’s clan. Parax watched them, studying their faces. They were frightened now. Death had come to six of their friends. None of them relished the thought of being next.
Bek spoke to the riders then moved his horse alongside the older man and dismounted. ‘Did he come this way?’ he asked.
‘Yes. About two hours ago. He sat just below this rim,’ said Parax, pointing to a spot some ten feet away. ‘Just there, where his head would be hidden by yon bush. He watched us for a while and thought about where he could hide.’
‘And where is that?’
Parax swept his arm out in a wide circle. ‘You choose, Bek. There are folds and hollows all around, jumbles of boulders, stands of trees. Wherever he is, he is watching us now, wondering if we are clever enough to outguess him.’
‘And are we, old man?’
‘No, we are not. But I am. I know exactly where he is. I reckon I could even pick out the tree he is watching us from.’
‘Then we have him,’ said Bek, triumphantly.
‘You can have him. I want no part of him. But five young men ought to be enough.’
‘It will be. Tell me where he is.’
‘I will, but first do your best not to look in the direction I indicate.’
‘I am not a fool, Parax.’
No, you are a murdering regicide, thought Parax, but he kept the thought to himself. ‘He is on the edge of the Talis woods. It is his last chance. He will know of the legends, and he will know that we know. He is risking his life against what he hopes is your lack of courage.’
Parax saw the colour drain from Bek’s face. ‘The Talis woods? You are sure?’
‘As sure as I can be.’
‘Then he is dead already.’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. As I said, he is at the very edge. Perhaps the Talis will not see him. Perhaps they are elsewhere. Are you afraid to follow him, Bek?’
‘Yes, I am afraid,’ admitted the warrior. ‘Would you ride into those woods?’
‘No,’ said Parax. ‘But then I am paid only to track.’
‘Where exactly is he?’
Parax did not look towards the woods. ‘Take your men and ride east for a little way. Then turn back and move along the edge of the wood. Keep watching me. When you reach the point where I believe him to be hiding I will stand up and mount my pony.’