‘There’s a lot of truth there,’ Ulath agreed. ‘One of my brother knights at Heid is absolutely convinced that every set of dice in the world hates him. I’ve never seen him win – not even once.’
‘If he’s been playing with your dice, I can see why,’ Kalten accused.
‘I’m hurt,’ Ulath said plaintively.
‘Enough to throw those dice away?’
‘Well, no, not quite that much. We really ought to come up with something cheerful to talk about, though.’
‘We could find some wayside tavern and get drunk, I suppose,’ Kalten said hopefully.
‘No,’ Ulath shook his head. ‘I’ve found that ale just makes a bad mood worse. After four or five hours of drinking, we’d probably all be crying into our tankards.’
‘We could sing hymns,’ Bevier suggested brightly.
Kalten and Tynian exchanged a long look, and then they both sighed.
‘Did I ever tell you about the time when I was down in Cammoria and this lady of high station became enamoured of me?’ Tynian began.
‘Not that I recall,’ Kalten replied rather quickly.
‘Well, as I remember it –’ Tynian began, and then told them a long, amusing and just slightly off-colour account of what was probably an entirely fictitious amorous adventure. Ulath followed by telling them the story of the unfortunate Genidian Knight who had aroused a passion in the heart of an Ogress. His description of the singing of the love-stricken female reduced them all to helpless laughter. The stories, richly embellished with detail and humour, lightened their mood, and they all felt much better by sunset when they halted for the day.
Even with frequent changes of horses, it took them twelve days to reach Motera, an unlovely town lying on a flat, marshy plain extending out from the west fork of the River Geros. They reached the city about midday. Sparhawk and Kurik once again sought out information while the rest of the party rested their horses in preparation for the ride northward towards Paler. Since they still had a number of hours of daylight left, they saw no reason to spend the night in Motera.
‘Well?’ Kalten asked Sparhawk as the big Pandion and his squire rejoined the group.
‘Martel went north,’ Sparhawk answered.
‘We’re still right behind him then,’ Tynian said. ‘Did we pick up any more time?’
‘No,’ Kurik replied. ‘He’s still two days ahead of us.’
‘Well,’ Tynian shrugged, ‘since we’re going that way anyhow –’
‘How far is it to Paler?’ Stragen asked.
‘A hundred and fifty leagues,’ Kalten told him. ‘Fifteen days at least.’
‘We’re moving on in the season,’ Kurik said. ‘We’re bound to run into snow in the mountains of Zemoch.’
‘That’s a cheery thought,’ Kalten said.
‘It’s always good to know what to expect.’
The sky continued gloomy, though the air was cool and dry. About midway through their journey, they began to encounter the extensive diggings that had turned the ancient battlefield at Lake Randera into a wasteland. They saw a few of the treasure-hunters, but passed them without incident.
Perhaps something had changed it, or perhaps it was because he was out of doors instead of in some candlelit room, but this time when Sparhawk caught that faint glimmer of darkness and menacing shadow at the very corner of his vision, something was actually there. It was late in the afternoon of a depressing day which they had spent riding through a landscape denuded of all vegetation and littered with great mounds of raw, dug-over earth. When Sparhawk caught that familiar flicker and its accompanying chill, he half-turned in his saddle and looked squarely at the shadow which had haunted him for so long. He reined Faran in. ‘Sephrenia,’ he said quite calmly.
‘Yes?’
‘You wanted to see it. I think that if you turn around rather slowly, you’ll be able to look as much as you want. It’s just beyond that large pond of muddy water.’
She turned to look.
‘Can you see it?’ he asked her.
‘Quite clearly, dear one.’
‘Gentlemen,’ Sparhawk said to the others then, ‘our shadowy friend seems to have come out of hiding. It’s about a hundred and fifty yards behind us.’
They turned to look.
‘It’s almost like a cloud of some kind, isn’t it?’ Kalten noted.
‘I’ve never seen a cloud like that before,’ Talen shuddered. ‘Dark, isn’t it?’
‘Why do you suppose it decided not to hide any more?’ Ulath murmured.
They all turned, looking to Sephrenia for some kind of explanation.
‘Don’t ask me, gentlemen,’ she said helplessly. ‘Something has changed, though.’
‘Well, at least we know that Sparhawk hasn’t just been seeing things for all this time,’ Kalten said. ‘What do we do about it?’
‘What can we do about it?’ Ulath asked him. ‘You don’t have much luck fighting with clouds and shadows with axes or swords.’
‘So? What do you suggest then?’
‘Ignore it,’ Ulath shrugged. ‘It’s the king’s highway, so it’s not breaking any laws if it wants to follow along, I guess.’
The next morning, however, the cloud was nowhere to be seen.
It was late in the autumn when they once again rode into the familiar city of Paler. As had become their custom, the Domi and his men camped outside the city walls, and Sparhawk and the others rode on to the same inn where they had stayed before.
‘It’s good to see you again, Sir Knight,’ the innkeeper greeted Sparhawk as the black-armoured Pandion came back down the stairs.
‘It’s good to be back,’ Sparhawk replied, not really meaning it. ‘How far is it to the east gate from here?’ he asked. It was time to start asking questions about Martel again.
‘About three streets over, My Lord,’ the innkeeper replied.
‘It’s closer than I thought.’ Then something occurred to Sparhawk. ‘I was just about to go out to ask around about a friend of mine who passed through Paler two days ago,’ he said. ‘You might be able to save me some time, neighbour.’
‘I’ll do what I can, Sir Knight.’
‘He has white hair, and there’s a fairly attractive lady with him, as well as a few others. It is possible that he stopped here in your inn?’
‘Why, yes, My Lord. As a matter of fact, he did. They were asking questions about the road to Vileta – although I can’t for the life of me think why anyone in his right mind would want to go into Zemoch at this particular time.’