'Almost. I saw Jacob creeping through bushes near some tents, but then I was inside the tent and there were six men seated in a circle - and they knew Jacob was coming, and they were waiting for him.' 'It couldn't have been Jacob - he has only just left.' Then you must stop him, Con. Those men, they were not like the other h.e.l.lborn. They were evil, so terribly evil!' Griffin ran outside across the open ground, but there was no light from within Madden's cabin. Griffin circled the house to the paddock, but Madden's horse was gone. He could feel panic rising in him, and quelled it savagely. Returning to Donna, he sat beside her and took her hands in his. 'You told me you could always see those close to you, wherever they are. Can you see Jacob now?'

She closed her eyes.

Her mind misted, and Jon Shannow's face leapt to her.

He was riding the steeldust gelding along a mountain path which wound down towards a deep valley dotted with lakes. By the sides of the lakes hundreds of thousands of birds splashed in the water, or soared in their legions into the sky. Behind Shannow rode a h.e.l.lborn rider with a black forked beard, and behind him a dark-haired youngster of perhaps fifteen years.

Donna was about to return when she felt the chill of terror touch her soul. She rose above the scene, floating high above the trees, and then she saw them less than a quarter mile behind Shannow - some thirty men riding tall dark horses. The riders wore black cloaks and helms which covered their faces and they were closing fast. The sky darkened, and Donna found herself enveloped in cloud that thickened and solidified into leather wings which closed about her.

She screamed and tried to break free, but a soft, almost gentle voice whispered in her ear.

'You are mine, Donna Taybard, to take when I will.'

The wings opened and she fled like a frightened sparrow, jerking upright in the chair.

'Did you see Jacob?' asked Griffin.

'No,' she whispered. 'I saw the Devil and Jon Shannow.'

Selah cantered alongside Shannow and pointed down into the valley, where a cl.u.s.ter of buildings was ranged at the edge of a narrow river. Batik came alongside.

'I must have been dreaming,' said Shannow. 'I didn't notice them.'

Batik looked troubled. 'I am sure I scanned the valley. I could not have missed them.'

Shannow tugged the gelding and started down the slope, but they had not gone more than a hundred yards when they heard the sound of galloping hooves. Dismounting, Shannow led the gelding behind a screen of trees and thick bushes. Batik and Selah followed him.

Above they watched the black-cloaked h.e.l.lborn riders thunder by them.

They should have seen where we cut from the path,' mused Batik. 'Curious.'

'How many did you count?' asked Shannow.

'I did not need to count. There are six sections and that makes thirty-six enemies, skilled beyond our means to defeat them.'

Shannow did not reply, but swung himself into the saddle and headed the gelding down the slope. The buildings were of seasoned timber, bleached almost white, and beyond them was a field where dairy cattle grazed. Shannow rode into the central square and dismounted.

'Where are the people?' asked Batik, joining him.

Shannow removed his wide-brimmed hat and hung it on the pommel of his saddle. The sun was dipping behind the hills to the west, and he was tired. There were a dozen steps leading to a double door in the building facing them and Shannow walked towards them.

As he approached, the door opened and an elderly woman in white stepped out and bowed low. Her hair was short and iron-grey, and her eyes were blue - so deep they were almost violet.

'Welcome,' she said.

At that moment the trio heard the sound of hoofbeats and swung to see the h.e.l.lborn riding down from the hills. Shannow's hands dropped to his guns, but the woman spoke, her voice ringing with authority.

'Leave your weapons where they are, and wait.'

Shannow froze. The riders swept past the buildings looking neither right nor left. The Jerusalem Man watched them until they were far away, heading north.

He swung to the woman, but before he could speak she said, 'Join us, Mr Shannow, for our evening meal.' She turned and vanished into the building.

Batik approached him. 'I have to tell you, Shannow, that I do not like this place.'

'It is beautiful here,' said Selah. 'Can you not feel it? The harmony. There is no fear here.'

'Yes, there is,' muttered Batik. 'It's all in here,' he said, tapping his chest. 'Why did they ride on?'

'They did not see us,' said Shannow.

'Nonsense, they couldn't have missed us.'

'Just as we couldn't have missed these buildings?'

'That makes it worse, Shannow, not better.'

Shannow walked up the stairs and into the building, Batik behind him. He found himself in a small room, softly lit by white candles. A tiny round table had been set with two places and at the table was the grey-haired woman. Shannow turned, but Batik was not with him.

Nor Selah.

'Sit down, Mr Shannow, and eat.'

'Where are my friends?'

'Enjoying a meal. Be at ease; there is no danger here.'

Shannow's guns felt uncomfortable and he removed the belt and laid them on the floor beside him. He looked at his hands and noticed the dirt ingrained in them.

'You may refresh yourself in the next room,' said the woman. Shannow smiled his thanks and opened the oval door he had not noticed beyond the table. Inside was a metal bath, filled with warm water, delicately scented. He removed his clothes and climbed in. Clean at last, he rose from the bath to find his clothes gone and in their place a white woollen shirt and grey trousers. He felt no anxiety over the disappearance of his belongings and dressed in the garments he found, which fitted perfectly.

The woman sat where he had left her and he joined her. The food was plain, seasoned vegetables and fresh fruit, and the clear water tasted like wine.

They ate in silence until at last the woman rose and beckoned Shannow to join her in another room. Shannow followed into a windowless study where two deep leather chairs were drawn up against a round gla.s.s-topped table, upon which sat two cups of scented tea.

Shannow waited for the woman to seat herself, then sat back in a chair and stared at the walls of the room. They seemed to be of stone, yet were soft in appearance, like doth. Upon the walls were paintings - mostly of animals, deer and horses, grazing beneath mountains topped with snow.

'You have journeyed far, Mr Shannow. And you are weary.'

'Indeed I am, Lady.'

'And do you ride towards Jerusalem, or away from her?'

'I do not know.'

'You did your best for Karitas. Feel no grief.'

'You knew him?'

'I did indeed. An obstinate man, but a kindly soul none the less.'

'He saved my life. I could not return the debt.'

'He would not have seen it as a debt, Mr Shannow. For him, as for us, life is not a question of balances earned and debited. How do you feel about Donna Taybard?'

'I am angry... was angry. It is hard to feel anger here.'

'It is not hard, Mr Shannow; it is impossible.'

'What is this place?'

'This is Sanctuary. There is no evil here.'

'How is this achieved?'

'By doing nothing, Mr Shannow.'

'But there is a power here ... an awesome power.'

'Indeed, and there is a riddle in that for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.'

'Who are you? What are you?'

'I am Ruth.'

'Are you an angel?'

She smiled then. 'No, Mr Shannow, I am a woman.'

'I am sorry that I do not understand. I feel it is important.'

'You are right in that, but rest now. We will talk tomorrow.'

She rose and left him. He heard the door close and stood. A bed lay by the far wall and he lay upon it and slept without dreams.

Batik followed Shannow into the building and found himself in a round room, painted in soft shades of red. On the walls were weapons of every kind, artistically displayed - bows, spears, pistols and rifles, swords and daggers, each of exquisite workmanship.

The grey-haired woman sat at an oval table upon which was a joint of red meat, charred on the outside but raw at the centre. Batik moved to the table and picked up a silver carving knife.

'Where is Shannow?' he asked, carving thick slices of the succulent meat.

'He is close, Batik.'

'A pleasant room,' said the h.e.l.lborn, indicating the weapons.

'Do they relax you?'

He shrugged. 'It reminds me of my home.'

The room bordering the garden of vines?'

'Yes. How did you know?'

'You entertained a friend of mine two years ago.'

'What was his name?'

'Ezra.'

'I know no one of that name.'

'He climbed the wall of your garden while being hunted. He hid among your vines, and when the searchers came you told them no one was there and sent them away.'

'I remember. A little man with frightened eyes.'

'Yes. A man of great courage, for he knew great fear.'

'What happened to him?'

'He was caught three months later and burned alive.'

'There has been a lot of that lately. He worshipped the old dark G.o.d, I take it?'

'Yes.'

The h.e.l.lborn will stamp out the sect.'

'Perhaps, Batik. But why did you help him?'

'I am not a religious man.'

'What are you?'

'Just a man.'

'You know that if you stay with Shannow you could die.'

'We are parting company soon.'

'And yet without you he will fail.'

Batik lifted a goblet filled with red wine and drained it. 'What are you trying to tell me?'

'Do you feel you owe Shannow a debt?'

'For what?'

'For saving your life?'