She sank a little lower in Sephrenia’s arms and began to suck her thumb.
‘You’ll make your teeth crooked.’
She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Shall we press on, then?’ Vanion suggested.
They rode on across a broad, rolling meadow covered with 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 traveling 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.
