When she said it, all frivolity dropped from her, and for a moment Neil felt a tingle of fear-not of something substantial, but of her very presence. It was as if he stood alone in the dark of the moon.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

"I am the countess Orchaevia," she said.

"You are something else."

A wan smile flitted across her face. "Not all of the sisters of Cer died in the razing of the coven. One lives yet."

He nodded in understanding. "Do you know what happened?" he asked.

"Knights came by dark, mostly Hanzish. They sought a girl, just as you do. The same girl, yes?"

"I believe so," Neil replied.

"Yes. She is important. More important than you could possibly know."

"I know only that my duty is to find her and keep her safe. It is all I need to know."

"I can see that. I watched you lie, and saw how it hurt you. You are not skilled at falsehood."

"I have not practiced it," he said.

"She lives, she and her maid. I believe two friends of mine, swordsmen who know the country, yet accompany them. My servants tell me they went north, probably to the port of z'Espino. I advise you to seek them there. I also advise you to leave tonight, and alone."

"Sir Chenzo. Is he a villain?"

"Not as such, though he may serve them. He was not involved in the murders at the coven. But mark this well, Sir Neil-someone in the Church was was. Someone of importance. The knights that were here were saint-marked, and some were of a very special sort, a sort that the world has not seen in ages."

"What sort is that?"

"In one of my wine cellars there is a man whose head has been smitten off. He is still alive. He is not conscious, he cannot speak or see or feel, but his body continues to twitch." She shrugged. "I think Sir Chenzo knows nothing of this, but his superiors might. He was told to watch for someone like you. Your lies, as I said, are quite unconvincing."

"And Sir Quinte?"

"I don't know if he has any part in this, but it would be foolish to chance it."

"He has been a help to me. I do not know the language here. I was lost when he found me."

"Perhaps you were. Perhaps he merely convinced you that you were. I have a servant I will send with you. He is utterly trustworthy, and will act as your guide and interpreter. He will provision you, as well."

Then she smiled. "Go. You may leave by the front door. You will be neither seen nor hindered."

"What of you?"

"Do not fear for me. I can settle any trouble that may arise from your leaving."

Neil regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded.

As the countess had promised, he encountered no one in the halls or manse other than her own servants, who only bowed or nodded politely, always in silence.

Outside, in the courtyard, Hurricane was waiting, along with a smallish black mare and a brown gelding strapped with provisions. Near them stood a boy in brown breeches and white chemise with long black waistcoat and a broad-brimmed hat.

"If you please, sir," the boy said. His language was slightly accented king's tongue. His tone seemed ironic.

"Thank you-"

"You may call me Vaseto." He nodded at the horses. "All is ready. Shall we leave?"

"I suppose so."

"Good." He swung onto his mount. "If you will follow me."

The land was pale gold where the moon kissed it, but where she did not, the shadows were strange. Some were spread like dark rust, others like bronze blackened in flame or the green of rotted copper. It was as if a giant had wrought the world of metal and then left it too long to the weather. Even the stars looked like steel, and Vaseto-when his face came into view from beneath his brim-was red gold etched in deep relief.

Neil had never known such a night. He wished he could appreciate it, but the many colored shadows seemed to bristle with deadly quills, and nocturnal sounds parted around them, leaving space to hear something else-something following them.

"Do you hear that?" he asked Vaseto.

"It is nothing," the boy replied. "It's not your friends the knights, that's for sure. They would each be as noisy as you." He smiled thinly. "But you have good ears."

A few hours later they stopped at an abandoned house hidden by a copse of willows and took turns sleeping. Neil glumly stood guard, watching the shadows shift as the moon went down, now and then seeing one move in a way it shouldn't.

Dogs bayed in the distance, as if mourning the moonset.

A little after daybreak, they resumed their journey northward, Neil with weary eyes, his companion seeming cheerful and rested. Vaseto was a small, dark lad with large brown eyes and hair cropped in a bowl just above his ears. He rode as if born to the saddle, and his mount-though small-was spirited.

Midday they crossed a small river and passed a town on a hilltop. Three large towers stood up from the jumble of roofs, and fields spread to the road and beyond. Houses and inns became more frequent, until the road was nearly bounded by them; then they thinned again. Woodlands crept around the trail, sometimes forming dark, fragrant tunnels of cedar and bay.

"How far is z'Espino?" Neil asked restlessly.

"Ten chenperichi. We should reach it tomorrow."

"What did the countess tell you?"

"You're looking for two girls, one with red hair and another with golden. They might be with Cazio and z'Acatto."

"Who are Cazio and z'Acatto?" Neil asked.

"Former guests of the countess," Vaseto answered.

"Why would they be with these girls?"

"Cazio was courting one of them. The night the coven burned, Cazio and z'Acatto vanished, as well. I found some sign of their trail."

"You did?"

"Yes," Vaseto answered. "I did." did."

"And you think they were together?"

Vaseto rolled his eyes. "Three sets of tracks, two small, one large, all pursued by mounted men. They met at some ruins where a third man joined them-z'Acatto, by the torn sole of his boot. They fought the horsemen, and won after a fashion. All four left together."

Neil regarded Vaseto for a few moments, considered the authoritative ring of his voice.

"You're older than I thought," he said.

"Probably," Vaseto replied.

"And you're not a boy."

Vaseto gave him a small smirk. "I wondered if you would ever work that out," she said. "They must make you thick, up north. Not that men down here are generally any smarter."

"You're dressed like a boy. Your hair is cut like a boy's. And the countess called you male."

"So I am, and so it is, and so she did," Vaseto said. "And that's plenty of talk on that subject. Anyway, we've other things to worry about at the moment."

"Such as?"

For answer, an arrow thumped into the trunk of an olive tree, just a yard from Neil's head.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE U UTIN.

ASPAR LOOSED AN ARROW at the thing before he could even see what it was. It hit, he was certain, but the arrow didn't seem to have much effect. A long, clawed limb whipped out and struck Stephen to the ground. at the thing before he could even see what it was. It hit, he was certain, but the arrow didn't seem to have much effect. A long, clawed limb whipped out and struck Stephen to the ground.

As Aspar loosed his second arrow, a film of light seemed to settle on everything. The leaves that had concealed the pit where the creature had been hiding turned slowly as they fell, each distinct-ironoak, ash, haurnbagm, poplar.

As the leaves settled, the utin was revealed.

The first impression was of a huge spider-though it had only four limbs, they were long and spindly, attached to a torso so compact as to be boxlike, a mass of muscle covered in what looked like brown scales and sparse greenish hair that grew thicker on its upper spine and ruffed a short, thick neck. Yellow eyes glared from an enormous oblong of dark green horn with only slits for nostrils and holes for ears. Its mouth was the laugh of a Black Mary, a slit that cut the head in two and champed around wicked, black, uneven teeth.

The second arrow took it high in the chest, where its heart ought to have been. The creature turned away from Stephen and dropped to all fours, then sprang toward Aspar with terrible speed.

Aspar got off another shot, and so did Ehawk, and then the monster was on them. Its stench hit Aspar in the gut, and his gorge rose as he discarded the bow and yanked out his fighting dirk and throwing ax. He struck hard with the latter and dodged as the thing swept by. A six-clawed hand swiped at him and narrowly missed.

He whirled and fell into a fighting crouch.

The utin paused, bouncing slowly up and down on its two weird long legs, its body upright, fingers tapping at the ground. It towered a kingsyard above Aspar.

Aspar shifted back, hoping he was a little out of reach.

"Winna," he said. "Get away from here, now."

Ehawk, he noticed, was slowly creeping to get behind the beast.

"Wiiiiiinaaah," the thing croaked, and Aspar's flesh went as crawly as if he'd stumbled into a nest of worms. the thing croaked, and Aspar's flesh went as crawly as if he'd stumbled into a nest of worms.

"Wiinaah gooh, yah. I find you later. Make fun."

The language was the local dialect of Almannish.

"Grim's eye," Aspar swore. "What the sceat are you?"

For answer, the utin swayed forward a bit, then plucked one of the arrows from its chest. Aspar saw the scales were more like bony plates, natural armor-the shaft hadn't penetrated deep. More and more he was reminded of the greffyn, which had also had much of the reptile about it.

If this thing was poisonous like the greffyn, Stephen was already as good as dead. So was he, if it touched him.

He waited for its next move, looking for soft spots. The head was plated, too, and was probably mostly bone. He might hit one of the eyes with a good throw. The throat, maybe?

No. All too far in. Its limbs were everywhere. He shifted his knife hand slightly.

The utin suddenly blurred toward him. Ehawk gave a cry and fired an arrow; Aspar ducked, leapt inside the reaching claws, and slashed at the inner thigh, then stabbed toward the groin. He felt flesh part at the first cut, and the thing howled. His thrust missed as the monster leap-frogged over him and then dealt him a terrific kick that sent him sprawling. It turned before he could even think about getting up, tore a branch from a tree, and hurled it. Aspar heard Ehawk cry out, and the thump of a body hitting the ground. Then the utin bounded toward him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Winna armed only with a dagger, rushing in to help.

"No!" Aspar shouted, levering himself up, lifting his ax.

But the utin struck Winna with the back of its hand, and as she staggered, it grabbed her with the other. Aspar hurled the ax, but it bounced harmlessly from the monster's head. In the next instant it leapt straight up, taking Winna with it. It caught a low-hanging branch, swung, clenched another branch with its handlike feet. It moved off through the trees faster than a man could run.

"No!" Aspar repeated. He pushed to his feet, retrieved his bow, and chased after the rapidly receding monster. A sort of shivering was in him, a feeling he had never known before.

He pushed the emotion down and ran, reached to his belt for the arrow case the praifec had given him, and extracted the black arrow.

The utin was quickly vanishing from sight, here-again-gone-again behind trunk and branch. Breath tore harshly through Aspar's lips as he set the relic to his string. He stopped, got his stance, and for an instant the world was quiet again. He felt the immensity of the earth beneath him, the faint breeze pushing itself over the land, the deep slow breath of the trees. He drew.

The utin vanished behind a bole, reappeared, and vanished again. Aspar aimed at the narrow gap where he thought it would appear again, felt the time come right, and released.

The ebony shaft spiraled out and away from him, hissing past leaf and branch, to where the utin's broad back was a brief occlusion between two trees.

The quiet stretched, but stillness did not. Aspar ran again, already taking out another shaft, cursing under his breath, his heart tightening like an angry fist.

He found Winna first. She lay like an abandoned doll in a patch of autumn-reddened bracken, her dress smeared with blood. The utin sprawled a few feet away, its back to a tree, watching him come. Aspar could see the head of the black arrow protruding from its chest.

Aspar knelt by Winna, feeling for her pulse, but he kept his gaze fixed on the utin. It gurgled and spat out blood, and blinked, as if tired. It raised a six-fingered hand to touch the arrowhead.

"Not fair, mannish," it husked. "Not weal. An unholy thing, yes? And yet it will slay you, too. Your doom is the same as mine."

Then it vomited blood, wheezed two more times, and looked beyond the lands of fate.