"I think we can count on the Domi's efficiency," Tynian said.

"Still - " Berit said.

"Go ahead, Berit," Sparhawk agreed. "It's just as well not to take chances."

They rode at an easy canter, and as the sun was rising they reached the fork in the road. The left fork was rutted, narrow and poorly maintained. The rain which had swept through the area for some days back had left muddy and generally unpleasant, and thick brush lined both sides of it.

"It's going to be slow going," Ulath noted. "I've seen smoother roads, and it's not going to get better once we get up into those hills." He looked toward the low range of forested mountains lying just ahead.

"We'll do the best we can," Sparhawk said, "but you're right. Forty leagues is quite a distance, and a bad road isn't going to make it seem any shorter."

They started up the muddy road at a trot. As Ulath had predicted, it grew steadily worse. After about an hour, they entered the forest. The trees were evergreens, and they cast a sombre shade, but the air was cool and damp, a welcome relief for the armoured knights. They stopped briefly for a meal of bread and cheese at noon and then pressed on, climbing higher and higher into the mountains.

The region was ominously deserted, and even most of the birds seemed muted, the only exception being the sooty ravens, who seemed to croak from every tree. As evening began to settle over the gloomy wood, Sparhawk led the others some distance away from the road, and they made camp for the night.

The dismal forest had subdued even the irrepressible Kalten, and they were all very quiet as they ate their evening meal. After they had eaten, they went to their beds.

It was about midnight when Ulath woke Sparhawk to take his turn on watch. "There seem to be a lot of wolves out there," the big Genidian said quietly. "It might not be a bad idea to put your back to a tree."

"I've never heard of a wolf attacking a man," Sparhawk replied, also speaking softly to avoid waking the others.

"They usually don't - unless they're rabid."

"That's a cheerful thought.

"I'm glad you liked it. I'm going to bed. It's been a long day."

Sparhawk left the circle of firelight and stopped about fifty yards back in the forest to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He heard the howling of wolves back off in the woods. He thought he had found the source of many of the stories that had been circulating about Ghasek.

"This gloomy forest alone would be sufficient to stir up fears in superst.i.tious people. Add to that the flocks of ravens - always a bird of ill omen - and the chill howling of packs of wolves, and it was easy to see how the stories had started". Sparhawk carefully circled the camp, his eyes and ears alert.

Forty leagues. Given the worsening condition of the road, it would be unlikely that they could cover more than ten leagues a day. Sparhawk chafed at their slow pace, but there was nothing he could do about it. They had to go to Ghasek. The thought came to him that the count might very well not have found anyone who knew the whereabouts of King Sarak's grave, and that this tedious and time-consuming trek might all be for nothing. He quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.

Idly, still watching the surrounding woods, he began to wonder what his life would be like if they were successful in curing Ehlana. He had known her only as a child, but she was no longer a little girl. He had received a few hints about her adult personality, but nothing definite enough to make him feel that he really knew her.

She would be a good queen, of that he was certain, but exactly what kind of a woman was she?

He saw a movement out in the shadows and stopped, his hand going to his sword as he searched the darkness.

Then he saw a pair of blazing green eyes that reflected back the light of their fire. It was a wolf. The animal stared at the flames for a long time, then turned to slink silently back into the forest.

Sparhawk realized that he had been holding his breath, and he let it out explosively. No one is ever really prepared for a meeting with a wolf, and even though he knew it was imaginary, he nonetheless felt the instinctive chill.

The moon rose, casting its pale light over the dark forest. Sparhawk looked up and saw the clouds coming in. Gradually, they obscured the moon and inexorably continued to build up. "Oh, fine," he muttered. "That's all we need - more rain." He shook his head and walked on, his eyes probing the darkness around him.

Somewhat later, Tynian relieved him, and he went back to his tent.

"Sparhawk." It was Talen, and his shaking of Sparhawk's shoulder was light as he woke the big Pandion.

"Yes." Sparhawk sat up, recognizing the note of urgency in the boy's voice.

"There's something out there."

"I know. Wolves."

"This wasn't a wolf - unless they've learned to walk on their hind legs."

"What did you see?"

"It was back in the shadows under those trees. I couldn't see it very well, but it seemed to have a kind of robe over it, and the robe didn't fit very well."

"The Seeker?"

"How would I know? I only caught a glimpse of it. It came to the edge of the woods and then dropped back into the shadows. I probably wouldn't even have seen it except for the glow coming off its face."

"Green?"

Talen nodded.

Sparhawk started to swear.

"When you run out of words, let me know," Talen offered. "I'm a pretty good swearer."

"Did you warn Tynian?"

"Yes."

"What were you doing out of bed?"

Talen sighed. "Grow up, Sparhawk," he said In a tone far older than his years. "No thief ever sleeps more than two hours at a time without going out to look around."

"I didn't know that."

"You should have. It's a nervous life, but it's a lot of fun."

Sparhawk cupped his hand about the back of the young fellow's neck. "I'm going to make a normal boy out of you yet," he said.

"Why bother? I outgrew all that a long time ago. It might have been nice to run and play - if things had been different - but they weren't, and this is much more fun.

Go back to sleep, Sparhawk. Tynian and I'll keep an eye on things. Oh, by the way, it's going to rain tomorrow."

But it was not raining the following morning, though murky clouds obscured the sky. About mid-afternoon, Sparhawk reined Faran in.

"What's the trouble?" Kurik asked him.

There's a village down there in that little valley."

"What could they possibly be doing out here in these woods? you can't farm with all these trees in the way."

"we could ask them, I suppose. I want to talk with them anyway. They're closer to Ghasek than the people back in Venne were, and I'd like to get a little more up-to-date information. There's no point in riding into something blind if you don't have to. Kalten," he called.

"Now what?" Kalten demanded.

"Take the others and keep on going. Kurik and I are going down to that village to ask a few questions. We'll catch up with you."

"All right." Kalten's tone was abrupt and slightly surly.

"What's the matter?"

"These woods depress me."

"They're only trees, Kalten."

"I know, but do there have to be so many of them?"

"Keep your eyes open. That Seeker's out there someplace."

Kalten's eyes brightened. He drew his sword and tested its edge with his thumb.

"What have you got in mind?" Sparhawk asked him.

"This might just be the chance we've been waiting for to get that thing off our backs once and for all. Otha's bug is very skinny. One good stroke should cut it in two. I think I'll just hang back a little bit and set up an ambush of my own."

Sparhawk thought very quickly at that point. "Nice plan," he seemed to agree, but somebody has to lead the others to safety."

"Tynian can do that."

"Maybe, but do you feel like trusting Sephrenia's well-being to somebody we've only known for six months and who's still recovering from an injury?"

Kalten called his friend a number of obscene names.

"Duty, my friend," Sparhawk said calmly. "Duty. Its stern call pulls us away from various entertainments. Just do as I asked you to do, Kalten. We'll take care of the Seeker later."

Kalten continued to swear. Then he wheeled his horse and rode off to join the others.

"You were right on the edge of a fight there," Kurik commented.

"I noticed that."

"Kalten's a good man in a fight, but he's a hot-head sometimes."

Then the two of them turned their horses and rode on down the hill towards the village.

The houses were made of logs, and they had sod roofs.

The villagers had made some effort to clear the trees surrounding their community, creating stump-dotted fields extending perhaps a hundred paces back from their houses.

"They've cleared the land," Kurik observed, "but about all I see are kitchen gardens. I still wonder what they're doing out here."

That question was answered as soon as they rode into the place. A number of villagers were laboriously sawing boards from logs lying atop crude trestles. Stacks of warped green lumber beside the houses explained the purpose of the village.

One of the men stopped sawing, mopping at his brow with a dirty rag. "There's no inn here," he said to Sparhawk in an unfriendly tone.

"We're not really looking for an inn, neighbour," Sparhawk said, "just some information. How much further is it to the house of Count Ghasek?"

The villagers face went slightly pale. "Not far enough away to suit me, My Lord," he replied, eyeing the big man in black armour nervously.

"What's the trouble, friend?" Kurik asked him.

"No sensible man goes near Ghazek," the villager replied. "Most people don't even want to talk about it."

"We heard some of the same sort of thing back in Venne," Sparhawk said. "What's going on at the count's house anyway?"

"I couldn't really say, My Lord," the man said evasively. "I've never been there. I've heard some stories, though."

"Oh?"

"People have been disappearing around there. They're never seen again, so n.o.body really knows for sure what happened to them. The count's serfs have been running away, though, and he's not reputed to be a hard master.

Something evil is going on in his house, and all the people who live nearby are terrified."

"Do you think the count's responsible?"

"It's not very likely. The count's been away from home for the past year. He travels around a lot."

"We heard that about him." Sparhawk thought of something., "Tell me, neighbour, have you seen any Styrics lately?"

"Styrics? No, they don't come into this forest. People up here don't like them, and we make the fact well known."

"I see. How far did you say it is to the count's house?"

"I didn't say. It's about fifteen leagues, though."

"A fellow in Venne said it was forty leagues from there to Ghasek," Kurik told him.

The villager snorted derisively. "City folk don't even know how far a league is. It can't be much over thirty from Venne to Ghasek."

"We happened to see somebody back in the woods last night," Kurik said in a mildly conversational tone. "He was wearing a black robe and had his hood up. Could that have been one of your neighbours?"

The sawyers face went very, very" pale. "n.o.body around here wears that kind of clothes," he said shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"You heard me. I said n.o.body in this district dresses like that."

"It must have been some traveller then."

"That must be it." The villagers tone had become unfriendly again, and his eyes were a little wild.