The rain continued to fall, and the large, wet snowflakes mingled with it grew thicker as they continued eastward.
They camped that night in a grove of spruce trees, and their fire, fed by damp twigs and branches, was small and sickly. They awoke the following morning to find the plateau covered with wet, slushy snow to a depth of perhaps three inches.
‘It’s time for a decision, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said, looking out at the still-falling snow.
‘Oh?’
‘We can keep trying to follow this trail – which isn’t very well marked to begin with and will probably disappear altogether in about an hour – or we can strike out to the north. We could be on the Vileta road by noon.’
‘You have a certain preference, I gather?’
‘You could say that, yes. I don’t feature wandering around in strange country trying to find a trail that might not even lead to where we want to go.’
All right then, Kurik,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Since you’re so keen on this, we’ll do it your way. All I was really concerned about was getting through the border country where Martel was planning to leave ambushes in our path syl\ray. ‘
‘We’ll lose half a day, ‘ Ulath pointed out.
‘We’ll lose a lot more if we get turned around in these mountains,’ Sparhawk replied. “We don’t have any specific appointment with Azash. He’ll welcome us any time we get there.’
They rode north through the slushy snow with the thickly-falling flakes and the mist which accompanied them obscuring nearby hills. The wet snow plastered itself against them in sodden blankets, and their discomfort added to their gloom. Neither Ulath nor Tynian could lighten the mood with their few tentative efforts at humour, and after a while they rode in silence, each sunk in moody melancholy. As Kurik had predicted, they reached the Vileta road about midday and turned east again. There was no evidence that the road had been travelled since the snow had begun to fall. Evening was undefined on that snow-clogged day, a gradual darkening of the pervading gloom. They took shelter for the night in an ancient, decrepit barn, and as they always did in hostile country, they took turns standing watch.
They bypassed Vileta late the following day. There was nothing in the town they wanted anyway, and there was no point in taking chances.
‘Deserted,’ Kurik said shortly as they rode past the town. ‘How do you know that?’ Kalten asked him “No smoke. The weather’s chilly, and it’s still snowing.
They’d have fires going.’
‘Oh.’
‘I wonder if they forgot anything when they left,’ Talen said, his eyes bright.
‘Never mind,’ Kurik told him flatly.
The snow abated somewhat the following day, and their mood noticeably brightened but when they awoke the morning after that, it was snowing again, and their spirits plummeted once more. ‘Why are we doing this, Sparhawk?’ Kalten asked morosely towards the end of the day. ‘Why does it have to be us?’
‘Because we’re Church Knights.’
‘There are other Church Knights, you know. Haven’t we done enough already?’
‘Do you want to go back? I didn’t ask you – any of you – to come along, you know.’
Kalten shook his head. ‘No, of course not. I don’t know what came over me. Forget I said anything.
Sparhawk, however, did not. That evening he drew Sephrenia to one side. “I think we have a problem,’ he said to her.
‘Are you starting to have unusual feelings?’ she asked quickly. “Something that may be coming from somewhere outside yourself?’
“I didn’t exactly follow that.’
“I think we’ve all noticed it a few times before. We’ve all been having these sudden bouts of doubt and depression.’
She smiled slightly. “That’s not really in the character of Church Knights, you know. Most of the time you’re optimistic to the point of insanity. These doubts and gloom are being imposed on us from the outside. Is that the sort of thing you’re feeling? Is that the problem?’
‘It’s not me,’ he assured her. ‘I’m feeling a little low, but I think that’s just the weather. It’s the others I’m talking about. Kalten came up to me today, and he was asking me why we had to be the ones to do this. Kalten would never ask that kind of question. You usually have to hold him back, but now I think he just wants to pack it all up and go home. If my friends are all feeling this way, why don’t I feel it too?’
She looked out into the still-falling snow. Once again Sparhawk was struck by just how agelessly beautiful she was. “I .think He’s afraid of you,’ she said after a while.
‘Kalten? That’s nonsense.
“That’s not what I meant. It’s Azash Who’s afraid of you, Sparhawk.’
“That’s absurd.’
“I know, but I think it’s true all the same. Somehow you have more control over Bhelliom than anyone else has ever had. Not even Ghwerig had such absolute power over the stone. That’s what Azash is really afraid of.
That’s why He won’t risk confronting you directly, and that’s why He’s trying to dishearten your friends. He’s attacking Kalten and Bevier and the others because He’s afraid to attack you.’
‘You too?’ he asked her. ‘Are you in despair too?’
‘Of course not.’
“Why of course?’
“It would take too long to explain. I’ll take care of this, Sparhawk. Go to bed.’
They awoke the following morning to a familiar sound.
It was clear and pure, and though the song of the pipes was in a minor key, it seemed ruled with an ageless joy. A slow smile came to Sparhawk’s lips, and he shook Kalten awake. ‘We’ve got company,’ he said.
Kalten sat up quickly, reaching for his sword, and then he heard the sound of the pipes. ‘Well, now,’
he grinned, “it’s about time. I’ll be glad to see her again. ‘
They emerged from the tent and looked around. It was still snowing, and the stubborn mist hung back among the trees. Sephrenia and Kurik sat by the small fire in front of her tent.
‘Where is she?’ Kalten asked, looking out into the settling snow.
‘She’s here,’ Sephrenia said calmly, sipping her tea.
“I can’t see her.’
‘You don’t have to, Kalten. All you really need to know is that she’s here.’
‘It’s not the same, Sephrenia.’ His voice was just slightly disappointed.
“She finally went and did it, didn’t she?’ Kurik laughed.
“Did what?’ Sephrenia asked him.
.She poached a group of Church Knights right out from under the nose of the Elene God.’
“Don’t be silly. She wouldn’t do that.’
$Oh, really? Take a look at Kalten there. That’s the closest thing to adoration I’ve ever seen on his face. If I put together something that looked like an altar right now, he’d probably genuflect.’
“That’s nonsense,’ Kalten said, looking slightly embarrassed.
“I just like her, that’s all. She makes me feel good when she’s around.’
.Of course,’ Kurik said sceptically.
‘I don’t know that we should pursue this line of thought when Bevier joins us,’ Sephrenia cautioned. ‘Let’s not confuse him. ‘
The others also emerged from their tents smiling broadly. Ulath was actually laughing.
Their mood had lightened enormously, and the bleak morning seemed almost sunny. Even their horses seemed alert, almost frisky. Sparhawk and Berit went to where ,they were picketed to feed them their morning ration of grain. Faran normally ~greeted the morning with a flat look of dislike, but on this particular day the big, ugly roan seemed calm, even serene. He was looking intently at a large, spreading beech tree. Sparhawk glanced at the tree and then froze. The tree was half-concealed by mist, but he seemed quite clearly to see the familiar figure of the little girl who had just banished their despair with her joyful song. She appeared to be exactly the same as she had been the first time he had seen her. She sat upon a limb holding her shepherd’s pipes to her lips. The headband of plaited grass encircled her glossy black hair. She still wore the short, belted linen smock, and her grass-stained little feet were crossed at the ankles. Her large, dark eyes looked directly at him, and there was the hint of a dimple on each of her cheeks.
‘Berit,’ Sparhawk said quietly, ‘look.
The young apprentice turned, and then he suddenly stopped. ‘Hello, Flute,’ he greeted her, sounding strangely unsurprised.
Aphrael blew him a little trill of recognition and continued her song. Then the mist swirled about the tree, and when it cleared, she was no longer there. Her melody, however, continued.
‘She looks well, doesn’t she?’ Berit said.
“How could she look otherwise?’ Sparhawk laughed.
The days seemed to race by after that. What had been tedious plodding through gloom and snow now took on an almost holiday air. They laughed and joked and even ignored the weather, though it did not noticeably improve. It continued to snow each night and on into the morning, but at about noon each day, the snow gradually turned to rain, and the rain melted down each night’s accumulation so that, although they rode through continual slush, the drifts did not pile up sufficiently to impede their progress. Intermittently as they rode, the sound of Aphrael’s pipes hauntingly drifted out of the mist, urging them on.