‘Their swords?’
‘The swords were the instruments of the spell, and they symbolize the burden that must be passed on.’
‘Wouldn’t it have been wiser to have distributed that responsibility?’
‘I chose not to.’
‘That might have been a mistake.’
‘Perhaps, but it was mine to make.’
He began to pace angrily. ‘We should be working on a cure instead of riding halfway across Arcium,’ he burst out.
‘This is important, too, Sparhawk.’
‘I couldn’t bear to lose you and Ehlana,’ he said, ‘and Vanion, too.’
‘There’s still time, dear one.’
He sighed. ‘Are you all settled in, then?’ he asked her.
‘Yes. I have everything I need.’
‘Try to get a good night’s sleep. We’ll be starting early. Good night, Sephrenia.’
‘Sleep well, Sparhawk.’
He awoke as daybreak had begun to spread its light through the wood. He strapped on his armour, shivering at the touch of the cold plate He emerged from the tent he shared with five other knights and looked around the sleeping camp. Sephrenia’s fire was flickering in front of her tent again, and her white robe gleamed in the steely light of dawn and the glow of her fire.
‘You’re up early,’ he said as he approached her.
‘So are you. How far is it to the border?’
‘We should cross into Arcium today’
And then from somewhere out in the forest they heard a strange, flute-like sound. The melody was in a minor key, but it was not sad; rather it seemed filled with an ageless joy
Sephrenia’s eyes grew wide, and she made a peculiar gesture with her right hand.
‘A shepherd maybe?’ Sparhawk said.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not a shepherd.’ She stood up. ‘Come with me, Sparhawk,’ she said, and then she led him away from the fire.
The sky was growing lighter as they moved out into the meadow lying just to the south of their encampment, following the flute-like sound. They approached the sentry Sparhawk had stationed there.
‘You heard it, too, my Lord Sparhawk?’ the black-armoured knight asked.
‘Yes. Can you see who it is or where it’s coming from?’
‘I can’t make out who it is yet, but it seems to be coming from that tree out in the centre of the meadow. Do you want me to come along with you?’
‘No. Stay here. We’ll investigate.’
Sephrenia had already gone on ahead, moving directly towards the tree that seemed to be the source of the strange melody
‘You’d better let me go first,’ Sparhawk said when he caught up with her.
‘There’s no danger, Sparhawk.’
When they reached the tree, Sparhawk peered up through the shadowy limbs and saw the mysterious musician. It was a little girl of six or so. Her long hair was black and glossy, and her large eyes were as deep as night. A headband of plaited grass encircled her brow, holding her hair back. She was sitting on a limb breathing sound into a simple, many-chambered set of pipes such as a goatherd might play Although it was quite cold, she wore only a short, belted linen smock that left her arms and legs bare. Her grass-stained, unshod feet were crossed, and she perched on the limb with a sedate sureness.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Sparhawk asked, puzzled. ‘There aren’t any houses or villages around.’
‘I think she’s been waiting for us,’ Sephrenia replied.
That doesn’t make any sense.’ He looked up at the child. ‘What’s your name, little girl?’ he asked.
‘Let me question her, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said. ‘She’s a Styric child, and they tend to be shy.’ She pushed back her hood and spoke to the little girl in a dialect Sparhawk did not understand.
The child lowered her rude pipe and smiled. Her lips were like a small, pink bow
Sephrenia asked her another question in a strange, gentle tone.
The little girl shook her head.
‘Does she live in some house back in the forest?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘She has no home nearby,’ Sephrenia said.
‘Doesn’t she talk?’
‘She chooses not to.’
Sparhawk looked around. ‘Well, we can’t leave her here.’ He reached up his arms to the child. ‘Come down, little girl,’ he said.
She smiled at him and slipped off the limb into his hands. Her weight was very slight, and her hair smelled of grass and trees. She confidently put her arms about his neck and then wrinkled her nose at the smell of his armour.
He set her down on her feet, and she immediately went to Sephrenia, took the small woman’s hands in hers, and kissed them. Something peculiarly Styric seemed to pass between the woman and the little girl, something that Sparhawk could not understand. Sephrenia lifted the child into her arms and held her close. ‘What will we do with her, Sparhawk?’ she asked in a strangely intent tone For some reason it seemed very important to her.
‘We’ll have to take her with us, I guess – at least until we find some people to leave her with. Let’s go back to camp and see if we can find something for her to wear.’
‘And some breakfast, I think.’
‘Would you like that, Flute?’ Sparhawk asked the child.
The little girl smiled and nodded.
‘Why did you call her that?’ Sephrenia asked him.
‘We have to call her something – at least until we find out her real name – if she has one. Let’s go back to the fire where it’s warm.’ He turned and led the way back across the meadow towards the camp.
They crossed the border into Arcium near the city of Dieros, once again avoiding contact with the local inhabitants. They paralleled the road leading eastward, staying well back from that heavily travelled highway The countryside of the kingdom of Arcium was noticeably different from that of Elenia. Unlike its northern neighbour, Arcium seemed to be a kingdom of walls. They stretched along the roads or cut across open pastureland, often for no apparent reason. The walls were thick and high, and Sparhawk was frequently obliged to lead his knights on long detours to go around them. Wryly he remembered the words of a twenty-fourth-century Patriarch of the Church who, after travelling from Chyrellos to Larium, had referred to Arcium as ‘God’s rock garden’
The following day they entered a large forest of winter-bare birch trees. As they rode deeper into the chill wood, Sparhawk began to smell smoke and he soon saw a dark pall lying low among the stark white tree-trunks. He halted the column and rode on ahead to investigate