the rank salt-grass. The moon washed out all color, making the
grass whipping at the horses’ legs seem gray and the forest
beyond the meadow a formless black blot. They rode slowly,
their eyes and ears alert and their hands never far from their
sword-hilts. Nothing untoward had happened yet, but these
were trained knights, and for them the world was always filled
with danger.
After they rode in under the trees, Vanion called a halt.
“Why are we stopping?’ Flute demanded a little crossly.
‘The moon’s very bright tonight,’ Vanion explained, ‘and our
eyes need a little time to adjust to the shadows here under the
trees. We don’t want to blunder into anything.’
‘Oh.’
‘her night isn’t going too well, is it?’ Berit murmured to SParhawk.
“She seemed to be very upset with Khalad.’
“It’s good for her. She gets over-confident sometimes, and a
little too much impressed with her own cleverness.’
“I heard that, Sparhawk,’ Flute snapped.
“I rather thought you might have,’ he replied blandly.
‘Why is everyone mistreating me tonight?’ she complained.
‘They’re only teasing you, Aphrael,’ Sephrenia assured the
little girl, ‘clumsily, of course, but they’re Elenes, after all, so
you can’t really expect too much from them.’
“Shall we move on before things start to turn ugly?’ Vanion
said.
They rode at a walk through the shadows, and after about
half an hour they reached a narrow, rutted track. They turned
eastward and moved on, riding a little faster now.
‘how far is it to Jorsan, my Lord?’ Bevier asked Vanion after
they had gone a ways.
‘About fifty leagues,’ Vanion replied.
‘A goodly ways, then.’ Bevier looked inquiringly at Flute.
‘What?’ she said crossly.
‘Nothing, really.’
‘Say it, Bevier.’
“I wouldn’t offend you for the world, Divine Aphrael, but
could you speed the journey the way you did when we were
travelling across Deira with King Wargun’s army?’
‘No, I can’t. You’ve forgotten that we’re waiting ‘for something
important to happen, Bevier, and I’m not going to fly past it
just because you’re in a hurry to get to the taverns of Jorsan.’
‘That will do,’ Sephrenia told her.
SinCe it was still early autumn, they had not brought tents
with them, and after about another hour’s travel they rode back
into the forest and spread their blankets on beds of fallen leaves
to get a few hours’ sleep. The sun was well up when they set out again, and they
travelled through the forest until late afternoon without
encountering any local people.
Once again they moved back into the forest about a quarter
of a mile, and set up for the night in a narrow ravine where an
overhanging bank and the thick foliage would conceal the light
from their small cooking fire. Rather surprisingly, Ulath did the
cooking without any of his usual subterfuge. “It’s not as much
fun when Tynian isn’t along,’ he explained.
“I miss him too,’ Sparhawk agreed. “It seems strange to be
travelling without all those suggestions of his.’
‘This cooking business has come up before,’ Vanion observed.
‘Am I missing something?’
‘Sir Ulath normally keeps track of it, my Lord,’ Talen replied.
“It’s a very complicated system, so none of the rest of us really
understands how it works.’
‘Wouldn’t a simple roster do just as well?’ Vanion asked.
‘i’m sure it would, but Sir Ulath prefers his own method. It
has a few drawbacks, though. Once Kalten cooked every single
meal for an entire week.’
Vanion shuddered.
They had smoked mutton-chops that evening, and Ulath
received some hard looks from his companions about that. Flute
and Sephrenia, however, complimented him on his choice. After
they had eaten, they sought their makeshift beds.
It must have been well past midnight when Talen shook Sparhawk
awake, laying a cautious hand across his mouth to prevent
his crying out. ‘There are some people back near the road,’ the
boy whispered. ‘They’ve built a big fire.’
‘What are they doing?’ Sparhawk asked.
“Just standing around waiting for somebody, it seems – unless
you want to count the drinking.’
‘You’d better rouse the others,’ Sparhawk told him, throwing
off his blankets and reaching for his sword.
They crept through the forest in the darkness and stopped at
the edge of a stump-dotted clearing. There was a large bonfire
in the center of the clearing and nearly a hundred men – peasants,
for the most part, judging from their clothing – sitting on
the ground near the blaze. Their faces were ruddy from the
reflected light and from the contents of the earthenware jars
they were passing around.
‘Strange place to be holding a drinking-party,’ Ulath murmured.
“I wouldn’t come out this far into the woods for something
as ordinary as that.’
‘is this it?’ Vanion asked Flute, who was nestled in Sephrenia’S
arms, concealed by her sister’s dark cloak.
‘is this what?’
‘You know what I mean. Is this what we’re supposed to see?’
“I think so,’ she replied. ‘i’ll know better when they all get
here. ‘
‘Are there more coming?’
She nodded. ‘One, at least. The ones who are already here
don’t matter.’
They waited as the peasants in the clearing grew progressively
more and more rowdy.
Then a lone horseman appeared at the far edge of the clearing,
near the road. The newcomer wore a dark cloak and a slouch
hat pulled low over his face.
‘Not again,’ Talen groaned. ‘Doesn’t anybody on this continent
have any imagination?’
‘What’s this?’ Vanion asked.
‘The one they call Sabre up in Astel wore the same kind of
clothes, my Lord.’
‘Maybe this one’s different.’
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high.’
The man on horseback rode into the firelight, dismounted,
and pushed back his hat. He was a tall, gangly man with a
long, pock-marked face and narrow eyes. He stepped up onto
a tree-stump and stood waiting for the peasants to gather around
him. ‘Hear me, my friends,’ he said in a loud, harsh voice. “I
bring news.’
The half-drunk babble of the peasants faded.
‘Much has happened since last we met,’ the speaker continued.
‘you will recall that we had determined to make one
last try to resolve our differences with the Tamuls by peaceful
means.’
‘What choice did we have, Rebal?’ one of the peasants
shouted. ‘Only madmen would attack the Atan garrison – no
matter how just their cause.’
‘So that’s Rebal,’ Kalten whispered. ‘Not very impressive, is
he?’
‘Our cause was made just by Incetes himself,’ Rebal was
responding, ‘and Incetes is more than a match for the Atans.’
The mob murmured its agreement.
‘There is good news, my friends,’ Rebal declared. ‘Our emissaries
have been successful. The Emperor himself has seen the
justice of our cause!’
A ragged cheer went up.
“I rejoice even as you,’ Rebal continued, ‘but a new peril,
far more grave than the simple injustice of the corrupt Tamul
administrators, has arisen. The Emperor, who is now our friend,
has been taken prisoner by the accursed Church Knights! The
evil Archprelate of the Church of Chyrellos has reached half-way
around the world to seize our friend!’
‘Outrageous!’ a burly peasant in the crowd roared. ‘Monstrous!’
The rest of the peasants looked a bit confused, however.
‘He’s going too fast,’ Talen whispered critically.
‘What?’ Berit asked.
‘He’s changing course on them,’ Talen explained. ‘i’d guess
that he’s been cursing the Tamuls for the last year or so – the
same way Sabre was up in Astel. Now he wants to curse somebody
else, but he’s got to uncurse the Tamuls first. Even a
drunken peasant’s going to have some suspicions about the
miraculous conversion of the Emperor. He made it all too fast and
too easy.’
‘Tell us, Rebal,’ the burly peasant shouted, ‘how was our
friend, the Emperor, taken prisoner?’
‘Yes, tell us!’ another man on the far side of the crowd howled.
‘Planted henchmen,’ Talen sneered. ‘This Rebal’s about as
subtle as a club in the face.’
“It was clever, my friends,’ Rebal declared to the crowd, ‘very
clever. The Church of Chyrellos is guided by the demons of
Hell, and they are the masters of deceit. The Tamuls, who are
now our friends, are heathens, and they do not understand
the guile of the heretics of Chyrellos. All unsuspecting, they
welcomed a delegation of Church officials, and among those
foul heretics who journeyed to Matherion were Knights of the
Church – the armored minions of Hell itself. Once in Matherion,
they seized our dear friend and protector, Emperor Sarabian,
and they now hold him prisoner in his own palace.’
‘Death to the Tamuls.’ a wheezy-voiced old man,’ far gone in
drink, bawled.
One of the other peasants rapped him sharply across the back
of the head with a cudgel, and the slightly out-of-date demonstrator
sagged limply to the ground.
‘Crowd control,’ Talen sniffed. ‘Rebal doesn’t want people
making any mistakes here.’
Other peasants, obviously more of Rebal’s planted henchmen,
began to shout the correct slogan, ‘Death to the Church Knights!’