They laughed, sounding a bit strained.
‘All right,’ he said then. ‘Now we know where all the gloom was coming from, and there’s not really much point in ploughing over it again and again, is there? It was nobody’s fault, so why don’t we forget about it? We’ve got more important things to think about right now.’ He held up the steel-link pouch. ‘Here’s our blue friend,’ he told them. ‘I hope it’s comfortable in its little iron sack, but comfortable or not, that’s where it’s going to stay – at least until we need it. Whose turn is it to cook breakfast?’
‘Yours,’ Ulath told him.
‘I cooked supper last night.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘That’s hardly fair, Ulath.’
‘I just keep track of these things, Sparhawk. If you’re interested in justice, go and talk with the Gods.’
The rest of them laughed, and everything was all right again.
While Sparhawk was preparing breakfast, Sephrenia joined him at the fire. ‘I owe you an apology, dear one,’ she confessed.
‘Oh?’
‘I didn’t even suspect that the Troll-Gods might have been the source of that shadow.’
‘I’d hardly call that your fault, Sephrenia. I was so convinced that it was Azash that I wasn’t willing to admit any other possibility.’
‘I’m supposed to know better, Sparhawk. I’m not supposed to rely on logic.’
‘I think it might have been Perraine that led us in the wrong direction, little mother,’ he said gravely. ‘Those attacks of his came at Martel’s direction, and Martel was simply following an earlier strategy laid down by Azash. Since it was just a continuation of what had been going on before, we had no reason to suspect that something new had entered the game. Even after we found out that Perraine had nothing to do with the shadow, the old idea still stuck. Don’t blame yourself, Sephrenia, because I certainly don’t blame you. What surprises me is that Aphrael didn’t see that we were making a mistake and warn us about it.’
Sephrenia smiled a bit ruefully. ‘I’m afraid it was because she couldn’t believe that we didn’t understand. She has no real conception of just how limited we are, Sparhawk.’
‘Shouldn’t you tell her?’
‘I’d sooner die.’
Kurik’s speculation may or may not have been correct, but whether that constant wind which had choked them with dust for the past few days had been of natural origin or whether Bhelliom had roused it, it was gone now, and the air was clear and cold. The sky was bright, brittle blue, and the sun, cold and hard, hung above the eastern horizon. That, coupled with the vision of the preceding night, lifted their spirits enough to make it even possible for them to ignore the black cloud hovering on the horizon behind them.
‘Sparhawk,’ Tynian said, pulling his horse in beside Faran, ‘I think I’ve finally figured it out.’
‘Figured what out?’
‘I think I know how Ulath decides whose turn it is to cook.’
‘Oh? I’d like to hear that.’
‘He just waits until somebody asks, that’s all. As soon as somebody asks whose turn it is, Ulath appoints him to do the cooking.’
Sparhawk thought back. ‘You could be right, you know,’ he agreed, ‘but what if nobody asks?’
‘Then Ulath has to do the cooking himself. It happened once as I recall.’
Sparhawk thought it over. ‘Why don’t you tell the others?’ he suggested. ‘I think Ulath has a lot of turns coming, don’t you?’
‘He does indeed, my friend,’ Tynian laughed.
It was about mid-afternoon when they reached a steep ridge of sharply-fractured black rock. There was a sort of a trail winding towards its top. When they were about half-way up, Talen called to Sparhawk from the rear. ‘Why don’t we stop here?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll sneak on ahead and take a look.’
‘It’s too dangerous,’ Sparhawk turned him down flatly.
‘Grow up, Sparhawk. That’s what I do. I’m a professional sneak. Nobody’s going to see me. I can guarantee that.’ The boy paused. ‘Besides,’ he added, ‘if there’s any kind of trouble, you’re going to need grown men wearing steel to help you. I wouldn’t be of much use in a fight, so I’m the only one you can really spare.’ He made a face. ‘I can’t believe I just said that. I want you all to promise to keep Aphrael away from me. I think she’s an unhealthy influence.’
‘Forget it,’ Sparhawk rejected the idea.
‘No chance, Sparhawk,’ the boy said impudently, rolling out of his saddle and hitting the ground running. ‘None of you can catch me.’
‘He’s long overdue for a good thrashing,’ Kurik growled as they watched the nimble boy scamper up the side of the ridge.
‘He’s right, though,’ Kalten said. ‘He’s the only one we can really afford to lose. Somewhere along the way he’s picked up a fairly wide streak of nobility. You should be proud of him, Kurik.’
‘Pride wouldn’t do me much good when it came time to try to explain to his mother why I let him get himself killed.’
Above them, Talen had disappeared almost as if the ground had opened and swallowed him. He emerged several minutes later from a fissure near the top of the ridge and ran back down the trail to rejoin them. ‘There’s a city out there,’ he reported. ‘It would almost have to be Zemoch, wouldn’t it?’
Sparhawk took his map out of his saddlebag. ‘How big is the city?’
‘About the size of Cimmura.’
‘It has to be Zemoch then. What does it look like?’
‘I think it was sort of what they had in mind when they invented the word “ominous”.’
‘Was there any smoke?’ Kurik asked him.
‘Only coming from the chimneys of a couple of large buildings in the centre of the city. They seemed to be sort of connected. One of them has all kinds of spires, and the other one’s got a big black dome.’
‘The rest of the city must be deserted,’ Kurik said. ‘Have you ever been in Zemoch before, Sephrenia?’
‘Once.’
‘What’s the place with all the spires?’
‘Otha’s palace.’
‘And the one with the black dome?’ Kurik did not really have to ask. They all knew the answer.