"Just saw one go in. Boats tend to leak, and the men who own them try to seal up the seams with tar. Anytime you see a man with tar on his tunic, you can be fairly sure that he has something to do with boats."

"You're an absolute sink of information sometimes, Kurik."

"I've been around in the world for quite a long time, Sparhawk. If a man keeps his eyes open, he can learn a great deal. When we go inside, let me do the talking. It'll be faster." Kurik's stride suddenly took on a peculiar roll, and he banged open the tavern door with unnecessary force. "h.e.l.lo there, mates," he said in a raspy voice. "Have we chanced by luck on a place where men as works on the water be accustomed to gather?"

"You've found the right place, friend," the barman said.

"Praise be," Kurik said. "I hate to drink with landsmen All they can talk about is the weather an' their crops, an' once you've said it's cloudy an' that the turnips is growin", you've exhausted the possibilities of conversation."

The men in the tavern laughed appreciatively.

"Forgive me if I seem to pry," the barman apologized, "but you seem to have the speech of a salt water man."

"Indeed," Kurik said, "an' sore do I miss the smell of brine an' the gentle kiss of spray upon my cheek."

"You're a long way from any salt water, mate," one tar smeared fellow sitting at a table in the corner said with an odd note of respect in his voice.

Kurik sighed deeply. "Missed me boat, mate," he said.

"We made port in Apalia, sailin' down from Yosut up in Thalesia, an' I went out on the town an' got sore took by the grog. The Cap'n was not one to wait for stragglers, so he upped an' sailed with the mornin' tide an' left me beached. As luck had it, I fell in with this man," he clapped Sparhawk familiarly on the shoulder, "an' he give me employment. Says he needs to hire a boat here in Venne an' he needed someone as knew the way of boats to make sure he doesn't wind up on the bottom of the lake."

"Well, now, mate," the tarry man in the corner said with narrowed eyes, "what would your employer be willing to pay for the hire of a boat?"

"Twould only be for a couple of days," Kurik said. He looked at Sparhawk. "What thinkee, Cap'n? Would a half-crown strain your purse!"

"I could manage a half-crown," Sparhawk replied, trying to conceal his amazement at Kurik's sudden alteration.

"Two days, you say?" the man in the corner said.

"Dependin' on the wind and weather, mate, but it's always that way on the water, isn't it?"

"Truly. It could just be that we can do some business here. I happen to own a fair-sized fishing boat, and the fishing hasn't been very good of late. I could hire out the boat to you and spend the two days mending my nets."

"Why don't we just nip on down to the water's edge an' have a look at your vessel?" Kurik suggested. "It might just could be that we could strike a bargain."

The tar-smeared fellow drained his tankard and rose to his feet. "Come along then," he said, moving towards the door.

"Kurik," Sparhawk said quietly in a pained tone, "don't spring surprises like that on me. My nerves aren't as good as they used to be."

"Variety keeps life interestin', Cap'n," Kurik grinned as they left the tavern in the wake of the fisherman.

The boat was perhaps thirty feet long, and it sat low in the water.

"She appears to have a leak or two, mate," Kurik noted, pointing at the foot or so of water standing in the hull.

"We "were just patching her, " the fisherman apologised.

I hit a submerged log and sprung a seam. The men as works for me wanted to get something to eat before they came back to finish up and bail her out." He patted the boat's hull affectionately. "She's a good old tub," he said modestly. "She responds to the helm well, an' she can take whatever kind of weather this lake can throw at her."

"An' you'll have her patched by mornin"?"

"Shouldn't be no trouble, mate."

"What thinkee, Cap'n?" Kurik asked Sparhawk.

"Looks all right to me," Sparhawk replied, "but I'm no expert. That's what I hired you for."

"All right then, we'll try her, mate," Kurik told the fisherman. "We'll come back down come sun-up an' settle up then." He spat on his hand, and he and the fisherman slapped their palms together. "Come along, Cap'n'" Kurik told his lord. "Let's find us some grog an' supper an' then a bed. "Twill be a long day tomorrow."

And then with that rolling swagger, he led the way up from the lake-front.

"Would you like to explain all that?" Sparhawk asked when they were some distance away from the boat owner.

"It's not too difficult, Sparhawk," Kurik said. "Men who sail on lakes always have a great deal of respect for salt.w.a.ter sailors, and they'll go out of their way to be accommodating."

"But how did you ever learn to talk that way?"

"I went to sea once when I was about sixteen. I've told you that before."

"Not that I remember, no."

"I must have."

"Maybe it slipped my mind. What possessed you to go to sea?"

"Aslade." Kurik laughed. "She was about fourteen then and just blossoming out. She had that marrying sort of look in her eye. I wasn't ready yet, so I ran away to sea. Biggest mistake I ever made. I hired on as a deck-hand on the leakiest bucket on the west coast of Eosia. I spent six months bailing water out of the bilges. When I got back to sh.o.r.e, I swore I'd never set foot on a ship again. Aslade was very happy to see me again, but then she's always been an emotional girl."

"Was that when you decided to marry her?"

"Shortly after that. When I got home, she took me up to her father's hayloft and did some fairly serious persuading. Aslade can be very, very persuasive when she sets her mind to it."

"Kurik.!" Sparhawk was actually shocked.

"Grow up, Sparhawk. Aslade's a country girl, and most country girls have already started to swell when they get married. It's a relatively direct form of courtship, but it has its compensations."

"In a hayloft?" Kurik smiled. "Sometimes you have to improvise, Sparhawk."

Chapter 19.

Sparhawk sat in the room he shared with Kalten, poring over his map while his friend snored on a nearby bed.

Ulath's idea of a boat was a good one. Sephrenia's statement that it would indeed evade the Seekers most dangerous means of tracking them down was rea.s.suring.

They could return to that lonely mud beach where the Earl of Heid slumbered and resume their interrupted search without looking over their shoulders for signs of a hooded figure sniffing at the ground behind them. The Zemoch skull Berit had found on the murky bottom had almost precisely pinpointed Bh.e.l.liom's location. With only a little luck, they would be able to find it within the s.p.a.ce of a single afternoon. They'd have to return here to Venn for the horses, however, and that was the problem. If, as they had surmised, the Seekers blank minded cohorts were lurking in the fields and woods around the town, they'd have to fight their way out.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, fighting would not have concerned Sparhawk, it was what he had trained a lifetime to do. If he had Bh.e.l.liom in his possession, however, it would not only be his own life he would be risking, but Ehlana's as well, and that was unacceptable.

Moreover, as soon as Azash sensed Bh.e.l.liom's reemergence, the Seeker would hurl whole armies against them in a desperate attempt to seize the jewel.

The solution was simple, of course. All they had to do was to come up with a way to convey the horses to the west side of the lake. Then the Seeker could haunt the region around Venne until it grew old and died without causing Sparhawk and his friends any further inconvenience.

The boat which he and Kurik had hired, though, would not be capable of carrying more than two horses at a time. The notion of making eight or nine separate trips half-way down the lake to deposit the horses on some lonely beach on the west side of the lake made Sparhawk almost want to scream with impatience. Hiring several boats was an alternative, though not a very good one. A single boat probably would not attract attention, a fleet of them, though, would. Perhaps they could find someone dependable enough to herd the horses down the west sh.o.r.e. The only problem with that was that Sparhawk was not sure whether the Seeker could identify the smell of the horses as well as that of the people who rode them. He scratched absently at the finger which bore his ring. The finger seemed to be throbbing for some reason.

There was a light tap on the door.

"I'm busy," he said irritably.

"Sparhawk." The voice was light and musical, and it had that peculiar lilt that identified the speaker as Styric.

Sparhawk frowned. He didn't recognize the voice.

"Sparhawk, I need to talk with you."

He rose and went to the door. To his astonishment, it was Flute. She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

"So you can talk?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course I can."

"Y' haven't you then?"

"It wasn't necessary before. You Elenes babble far too much." Although her voice was that of a little girl, her words and inflections were peculiarly adult. "Listen to me, Sparhawk. This is very important. We must all leave immediately."

"It's the middle of the night, Flute," he objected.

"How terribly observant of you," she said, looking towards the darkened window. "Now please be still and listen. Ghwerig has retrieved Bh.e.l.liom. We have to intercept him before he can get to the north coast and sneak aboard a ship bound for Thalesia. If he evades us, we'll have to follow him to his cave in the mountains of Thalesia, and that would take quite a while."

"According to Ulath, n.o.body even knows where the cave is."

"I know where it is. I've been there before."

"You what?"

"Sparhawk, you're wasting time. I have to get out of this city. There's too much distraction here. I can't feel what's happening. Put on your iron suit and let's go."

Her tone was abrupt, even imperious. She looked at him, her large, dark eyes grave. "Is it possible that you're such a total lump that you can't feel Bh.e.l.liom moving through all the world? Isn't that ring telling you anything?"

He started slightly and looked at the ruby ring on his left hand. It still seemed to be throbbing. The small child standing in front of him seemed to know far too much.

"Does Sephrenia know about all this?"

"Of course. She's getting our things together."

"Let's go and talk with her."

"You're beginning to irritate me, Sparhawk." Her dark eyes flashed, and the corners of her bow-like pink mouth turned down.

"I'm sorry, Flute, but I still have to talk with Sephrenia."

She rolled her eyes upward. "Elenes," she said in a tone so like Sephrenia's that Sparhawk almost laughed. He took her hand and led her from the room and down the hallway.

Sephrenia was busily stowing clothing, both hers and Flute's, in the canvas bag sitting on the bed in her room.

"Come right in, Sparhawk," she said to him as he paused in the doorway. "I've been expecting you."

"What's going on, Sephrenia?" he asked in a baffled tone of voice.

"Didn't you tell him?" she asked Flute.

"Yes, but he doesn't seem to believe me. How can you tolerate these stubborn people?"

They have a certain charm. Believe her, Sparhawk," she said gravely to him. "She knows what she's talking about. Bh.e.l.liom has emerged from the lake. I felt it myself, and now Ghwerig has it. We have to get out into open country so that flute and I can sense which way he's going with it. Go rouse the others and have Berit saddle our horses."

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes. Hurry, Sparhawk, or Ghwerig will get away."

He turned quickly and went back out into the hall. This was all moving so rapidly that he did not " have time to think. He went from room to room, waking the others and instructing them all to gather in Sephrenia's room.

He sent Berit to the stable to saddle the horses, and last of all he woke Kalten. "What's the problem?" the blond Pandion asked, sitting up and rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"Something's come up," Sparhawk replied. "We're leaving."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yes. Get dressed, Kalten, and I'll pack our things."

"What's going on, Sparhawk?" Kalten swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Sephrenia will explain it. Hurry, Kalten."

"Grumbling, Kalten began to dress while Sparhawk ~ jammed their spare clothing into the pack they had brought up to their room. Then the two of them went back down the hall, and Sparhawk rapped on the door to Sephrenia's room.

"Oh do come in, Sparhawk. This is no time to stand on ceremony."

"Who's that?" Kalten asked.

"Flute," Sparhawk replied, opening the door.

"Flute? She can talk?"

The others had already gathered in the room, and they were all looking at the little girl they had thought was mute with some astonishment.