The War Hound and The World

Chapter X

THE GUARDS AT the city gates were clad in the same antiquated regalia as the first guard we had encountered. They did not challenge us as we entered the wide streets to discover a well-ordered collection of houses and public buildings, a cheerful and dignified population and an active market. Since we had been ordered to present ourselves to the Queen of this land, we continued on our way until we reached the palace: a relatively tow building of extreme beauty, with sweeping curves and pinnacles, bright stained glass and a general air of tranquillity.

Trumpets announced our coming as we passed under the archway into a wide courtyard decorated with all manner of shrubs and flowers. The unpretentiousness of the palace, its Atmosphere, reminded me somehow of my boyhood in Bek. My father's manor had possessed just such a mood.

Ostlers came forward to take our horses and a woman in skirt and wimple of olden times emerged from the doorway to beckon us. She was an exceptionally lovely young female, with large blue eyes and an open, healthy face. She looked like the better type of nun.

"Greetings to you," she said. "The Queen expects you. Would you wish to refresh yourselves, to bathe, perhaps, before you are presented?"

I looked at Sedenko. If I was half as filthy and as unshaven as he, I felt I would be happier for a bath and a chance to change my clothes.

Sedenko said: "We have been travelling through snow, lady. We hardly need to wash ourselves. See? Nature's done that for us."

I bowed to the young woman. "We are grateful to you," I said. "I, for one, would like some hot water."

"It will be provided." She beckoned and led the way into the palace's cool interior. The ceilings were tow and decorated with murals, as were the walls. We passed through a kind of cloisters and here were apartments evidently prepared for guests. The young woman showed us into one of these. Heated water had already been poured into two large wooden tubs in the centre of the main room.

Sedenko sniffed the air, as if he saw sorcery in the steam.

I thanked the young woman, who smiled at me and said: "I will return in an hour to escort you to the Queen."

Refreshed, I was ready and dressed in my change of clothes when she came back. Sedenko had no change of clothes and had scarcely let the water touch his skin, but even he had deigned to shave his face, save for his moustache. He looked considerably more personable than when he had arrived.

Again we followed the young woman through a variety of corridors, cloisters and gardens, until we were led into a large-sized room with a high ceiling on which was painted a representation of the sun, the stars and the moon, what is sometimes called, I believe, a Solar Atlas.

There on a throne of green glass and carved mahogany sat a girt of perhaps fifteen years. Since she wore a crystal-and-diamond crown upon her dark red hair we naturally bowed and murmured what we hoped were the appropriate greetings.

The girt smiled sweetly. She had large brown eyes and red lips. "You are welcome to our land, strangers. I am Queen Xiombarg the Twenty-fifth and I am curious to know why you braved the eagles to visit us. You were not drawn here, as are some adventurers, by legends of gold and magic, I am sure."

Sedenko became alert. "Treasure?" he said, before he thought. Then he blushed. "Oh, no, madam."

"I am upon the Grail Search," I told the young Queen. "I seek a hermit by the name of Philander Groot and believe that Your Majesty knows where I could find him."

"I am trusted with that knowledge," she said. "But I am sworn never to reveal it. What help can Heir Groot provide?"

"I do not know. I was told to seek him out and tell him my story."

"Is your story an unusual one?"

"Many would believe it more than unusual, Your Majesty."

"And you will not tell it to me?"

"I have told it to no one. I will tell it to Philander Groot because he might be able to help me."

She nodded. "You'll trade him secret for secret, eh?"

"It seems so."

"He will be amused by that."

I inclined my head.

Sedenko burst out: "It's God's work he's on, Your Majesty. If he finds the Grail…"

I tried to interrupt him, but she raised her hand. "We are not to be persuaded or dissuaded, sir. Here we believe neither in Heaven nor in Hell. We worship no gods or devils. We believe only in moderation."

I could not disguise my scepticism and she was quick to notice.

She smiled. "We are satisfied with this state of things. Reason is not subsumed by sentiment here. The two are balanced."

"I have always found balance a nostalgic dream, Your Majesty. In reality it can be very dull."

She was not dismayed. "Oh, we amuse ourselves adequately, captain. We have music, painting, plays…"

"Surely such ideas of moderation require no true struggle. Thus they defeat human aspiration. What greatness have these arts of yours? How noble are they? What heights of feeling and intellect do they reach?"

"We live in the world," she replied quietly. "We do not ignore how it is. We send our young people out of the valley when they are eighteen. There they learn of human misery, of pain and of those who triumph over them. They bring their experience back. Here, in tranquillity, it is considered and forms the basis of our philosophy."

"You are fortunate," I said with some bitterness.

"We are."

"So justice requires good luck before it can exist?"

"Probably, captain."

"Yet you seek out experience. You tell your young people to search for danger. That is not the same as being subjected to it, willy-nilly."

"No, indeed. But it is better than not searching for it at all."

"It seems to me, madam, that you yet possess the complacency of the privileged. What if your land were to be attacked?"

"No army can reach us without our knowing of it."

"No army can march by land, perhaps. But what, for instance, if your enemies trained those eagles to come through the Golden Cloud carrying soldiers?"

"That is inconceivable," she said with a laugh.

"To those who live with danger and have no choice," I said, "nothing is inconceivable."

She shrugged. "Well, we are satisfied."

"And I am glad that you are, madam."

"You are a stimulating guest, captain. Will you stay at our Court for a few days?"

"I regret that I must find Philander Groot if I can, as soon as I can. My commission has some urgency to it."

"Very well. Take the West Road from the city. It will lead you to a wood. In the wood is a wide glade, with a dead oak in it. Philander Groot, if he pleases, will find you there."

"At what time?"

"He will choose the time. You will have to be patient. Now, captain, at least you will eat with us and tell us something of your adventures."

Sedenko and I accepted the invitation. The dinner was superb. We filled ourselves to capacity, spent the night in good beds and hi the morning went by the West Road from the young Queen's town.

The wood was easily reached and the glade found without difficulty. We made a camp there and settled down to wait for Groot. The air was warm and lazy and the flowers softened our tempers with then* beauty and their scents.

"This is a place to come home to when you are old," said Sedenko as he stretched himself on the ground and stared around at the great trees. "But I'd guess it's no place to be young in. No fighting, precious little hunting…"

"The lack of conflict could bore anyone under forty," I agreed. "I cannot quite get to the root of my irritation with this place. Perhaps there is a touch too much sanity here. If it is sanity, of course. My instincts tell me that this kind of life is in itself insane in some ways."

"Too profound for me, captain," said Sedenko. "They're rich. They're safe. They're happy. Isn't that what we all want for ourselves in the end?"

"A healthy animal," I said, "needs to exercise its body and its wits to the full."

"But not all the time, captain." Sedenko looked alarmed, as if I was about to expect some action from him.

I laughed. "Not all the time, young Kazak."

After three days of waiting in the glade neither of us was so willing to rest. We had explored every part of the surrounding country, its rivers, its meadows, its woods. We had picked flowers and plaited them. We had groomed our horses. We had swum. Sedenko had climbed every tree which could be climbed and I had studied, without much understanding, the grimoires Sabrina had given me. I had also studied all the maps and had seen that Mittelmarch territories seemed to exist in gaps between lands where, in my own world, no gaps were.

By the time the fifth morning dawned I was ready to mount my horse and leave the Valley of the Golden Cloud. "I'll find my way to the Grail without Groot's help," I said.

And these words, almost magically, seemed to conjure up the dandy who sauntered into our camp, looking around him a little fastidiously but with the good humour of self-mockery. He was all festooned lace and velvet, gold and silver buckles and embroidery. He walked with the aid of a monstrous decorated pole and he stank of Hungary Water. His hat had a huge brim weighted down with white and silver feathers and his little beard and moustache were trimmed to the perfection demanded of the most foppish French courtier. His sword, of delicate workmanship, seemed of no use to him at all as he stared at me with a quizzical eye and then made one of those elaborate bows which I have never been able to imitate.

"Good morrow to thee, gentlemen," lisped the dandy. "I am enchanted to make your acquaintance."

"We're not here to pass the time of day with men dressed as women/* said Sedenko, scowling. "We await the coming of a great sage, a hermit of the wisest disposition."

"Aha, forgive me. I will not keep you long, in that case. Pray, what are your names, sirs?"

"I am Ulrich von Bek, Captain of Infantry, and this is my companion Grigory Petrovitch Sedenko, swordsman. And yours, sir?"

"My name, sir, is Philander Groot."

"The hermit?" cried Sedenko in astonishment.

"I am a hermit, sir, yes."

"You don't look like a hermit." Sedenko put his hand on the hilt of his sabre and strode forward to inspect the apparition.

"Sir, I assure you that I am, indeed, a hermit." Groot became polite. He was distant.

"We heard you were a holy man," Sedenko continued.

"I cannot be held responsible for what others hear or say, sir." Groot drew himself up. He was somewhat shorter than Sedenko, who was no giant. "I am the same Philander Groot for whom you were looking. Take me or leave me, sir. This is all there is."

"We had not thought to find a dandy," said I, by way of apologising for Sedenko's frankness. "We imagined someone in homespun cloth. The usual sort of garb."

"It is not my way to fulfil the expectation of my fellow creatures. I am Groot. Groot is who I am."

"But why a dandy?" Sedenko sighed and turned away from us.

'There are many ways of keeping one's distance from the world," said Groot to me.

"And many others to keep the world at a distance from oneself," I added.

"You appreciate my drift, Sir Knight. Self-knowledge, however, is not self-salvation. You and I have a fair way to go in that direction, I think. You through action and I, coward that I am, through contemplation."

"I believe that I lack the courage for profound self-examination, Master Groot," said I.

He was amused. "Well, what a fine man we should be, if we were combined into one! And how self-important, then, we could become!"

"I was told, Master Groot, that you might wish to hear my story and, that once you had heard it, you might wish to give me a clue or two to the solution of my problem."

"I am curious," admitted this gamecock philosopher, "and will be glad to pay for entertainment with information. You must rely on me, however, to set the price. Does that go against your wishes?"

"Not at all."

"Then, come, we shall take a walk together in the forest."

Sedenko looked back. "Careful, captain. It could be a trap."

"Grigory Petrovitch," I said, "if Master Groot had wished to ambush us, he could have done so at any time, surely."

Sedenko pushed his sheepskin cap high on his head and grumbled something before kicking violently at a clump of flowers.

Philander Groot linked his elegant arm in mine and we began to walk until we reached the stream. At its banks we paused.

"You must begin, sir," he said.

I told him where I was born and how I had come to be a warrior. I told him of Magdeburg and what followed. I told him of Sabrina. I told him of my meeting with Lucifer and of my journey to Hell. I told him of the bargain, of Lucifer's expectations. I told him what it was I sought…or rather what I thought it was.

We walked along the bank of the stream as I spoke and he nodded, murmured his understanding and very occasionally asked for clarification. He seemed delighted by what I had to say, and when I had finished he tugged at my arm and we stopped again. He removed his plumed hat and stroked at his carefully made curls. He fingered his little beard. He smiled and looked at the water. He brought his attention back to me.

"The Grail exists," he said. "And you are sensible to call it that because it frequently takes the form of a cup."

"You have seen it?" I asked.

"I believe I have seen it, on my travels, sir. When I travelled."

"So the legend of the Pure Knight deceives us?"

"It depends somewhat upon your definition of purity, I think," said Groot. "But suffice to say the thing is useless in the hands of one who would do evil with it. And as to the definition of evil, we can accept the crude, commonplace definition well enough here, I think. A certain amount of altruism exists in all of us and if properly maintained and mixed with appropriate self-interest, it can produce a happy man who gives offence neither to Heaven nor to Hell."

"I have heard that you refuse loyalty to either God or the Devil," I said.

"That's true. I doubt if I shall ever choose sides. My investigations and my philosophy do not lead me in their direction at all." He shrugged. "But who knows? I am yet a relatively young man…"

"You accept their existence, however?"

"Why, sir, you confirm it!"

"You believe that I have been the guest of Lucifer, that I am now His servant?"

"I must accept it, sir."

"And you will help me?"

"As much as I can. The Grail can be found, I believe, in a place known as the Forest at the Edge of Heaven. You will discover it, I am sure, marked on your charts. It lies on the farthest border of Mine I march. You must find it in the west."

"And are there any rituals I must follow?" I asked Philander Groot. "I seem to recall…"

"Ritual is the truth made into a child's game, at best. You will know what is for the best, I am sure."

"You can give me no more advice?"

"It would be against all I believe should I do so. No, Sir Knight, I have told you enough. The Grail exists. You wilt find it, almost certainly, where I said it can be found. What more could you need?"

I smiled in self-mockery. "Reassurance, I suppose."

"That must come from your own judgement, from your own testing of your conscience. It is the only kind of reassurance worth having, as I am sure you would agree."

"I agree, of course."

We were now walking back towards the glade. Groot mused. "I wonder if any object can cure the World of its Pain. It must be more than that. Would you say that your Master is desperate, captain?"

"His layers of defiance and rationalisation seem to fall away," I told the hermit, "to reveal little else but desperation. But can an angel fall so low in spirit?"

"There are entire monasteries, vast schools, debating such issues." Groot laughed. "I would not dare to speculate, Sir Knight. The Nature of Angels is not a branch of philosophy which captures my imagination much. Lucifer, I would say, cannot actually deceive an omniscient God, so therefore God must already know that the Grail is sought. If Lucifer has another purpose than the one He has told you, then God already knows it and continues, to some degree at least, to permit your Quest. This is the sort of talk which idle scholars prefer. But it is not for me."

"Nor for me," I said. "If I find the Grail and redeem my soul, that will be enough. I can only pray that Lucifer keeps His bargain."

"To whom do you pray?" asked Groot, with another smile. The question was rhetorical. He shook his hand to show that he was not serious.

"You seem an unusual subject of Queen Xiombarg," I said. "Or perhaps I misjudge her and this land."

"You probably misjudge the Queen and her country," he said, "but whether you do or you don't I can assure you that is all of Mittelmarch there is no more tranquil a valley, and tranquillity, at present, is what I seek above anything else, at this stage of my life."

"And do you understand the nature of Mittelmarch?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "I do not. All I know is that Mittelmarch could not survive without the rest of the world…but the rest of the world can survive without Mittelmarch. And that, I suspect, is what its denizens fear in you, if they fear anything at all."

"You are not, then, from Mittelmarch originally?"

"I am from Alsatia. Few who dwell here were born here. This valley and one or two other places are exceptions. Some exist here as shadows. Some exist as shadows in your world. It is very puzzling, captain. I am not brave enough to look at the problem with a steady eye. Not as yet. I have a feeling that if I did, I should die. Now, you will be wanting to be gone from die Valley of the Golden Cloud, eh? And on your way. I will escort you to the Western Gate. A trail will lead you through the mountains and onto a good road out of Mittelmarch."

"How shall I know which road it is?"

"There are not many roads in these parts, captain."

We had returned to the glade where a frowning Sedenko awaited us. "I believed you murdered or kidnapped, Captain von Bek."

I felt almost lighthearted. "Nonsense, Grigory Petrovitch! Master Groot has been of considerable help to me."

Sedenko sniffed at the strong odour of Hungary Water. "You trust him?"

"As much as I can trust myself."

Groot beckoned. "Pack your goods, gentlemen. I will walk with you to the Western Gate."

When we were ready to ride, the little dandy removed a lacy kerchief from his sleeve and mopped his brow beneath his hat. "The day grows warm," he said. With his tall cane held at a graceful angle, he began to stroll back to the road. "Come, my friends. You'll be out of here by nightfall if we hurry."

We walked our horses in Groot's wake as he moved rapidly along, more like a dancing master than anything else, humming to himself and commenting on the beauties of the fields and cottages we passed on our way, until at length we reached the far side of the valley and a gatehouse very similar to that by which we had entered. Here, Groot hailed the guard.

"Friends are leaving," he said. "Let them pass."

The guard, in the same livery as we had seen before, moved his horse aside and the portcullis was raised. At the gate Philander Groot paused, looking out at the trail, which wound up and up until it reached the golden mist. His expression was hard to read. I thought for a moment his eyes were those of a prisoner or an exile yearning to go home, but when he turned his face to me he had the same controlled, amused expression. "Here we are, captain. I will wish you good luck and good judgement on your Quest. It would be pleasing if we could meet again, in the fullness of time. I shall follow your adventure, as best I can, from here. And I shall follow it with interest."

"Why not come with us?" I said impulsively. "We should be encouraged by your company and I for one would be glad of your conversation."

"It is tempting, captain. I say that with all sincerity. But it is my decision to remain here for a while and so remain I shall. But know that I go with you in spirit."

A final elaborate bow, a wave, and Philander Groot was stepping backwards to let us ride through the gate. The portcullis closed behind us. A scented kerchief fluttered.

Soon we were engulfed again in golden mist and once more resorted to our cloaks as the weather grew colder.

By the time we were out of the mist, night had come and we camped upon the trail, there being no other suitable place. By morning we were able to look down at the far foothills of the mountains and know that very soon we should be on level ground again. We had not gone more than half an hour along our way before we heard the pounding of hooves and, looking back, observed some twenty armoured men coming up at a gallop.

Their leader was not armoured. I saw black and white. I saw a purple plume. I recognised Sedenko's former master and my sworn enemy, the warrior-priest Klosterheim.

We spurred our horses forward, hoping to outrun the armoured pack. There was something mysterious about them. Their armour glowed. Indeed, it seemed to bum, though only with black fire. Wisps of mist escaped the helms, and the mist was a terrible grey colour, as if the lungs which breathed it were in some way polluted.

"What can the Knight of Christ be doing with that company?" Sedenko gasped to me. "If ever creatures bore the stamp of Hell it is they. How can they be serving God's Purpose?"

I wanted to retort that if I served the Devil's then perhaps they could serve God's, but I bit back the comment and concentrated on doing my best to control my horse's descent of the trail. His hooves were slipping and twice he almost went over…once where a chasm loomed.

"We shall perish if we maintain this speed!" I said. "Yet Klosterheim means us harm for certain. And we cannot hope to defeat armoured knights."

We sought escape. There was none. We could go forward, or we could stand and wait for Klosterheim's devilish troop. As the trail widened I spied ahead that it entered a cleft in the rock, hardly space enough for one man to pass. It would be there, if anywhere, we could defend ourselves. I pointed, pulling at my reins. My horse reared. Sedenko saw my meaning and nodded. He dashed past me into the cleft, then turned his horse cautiously, inch by inch. I threw him one of my pistols and a pouch of shot and powder, backing my own horse round. With the cleft on both sides of us we could command our front without risk of attack from any other quarter.

Klosterheim scarcely realised what we had done as he raced forward. I aimed my pistol at him, drew back the hammer and then discharged. The shot went wide of him, but it served to halt him of a sudden. He shouted, glared, shortened his rein and held up a stilling hand to his pack. They stopped with unnatural discipline.

"Klosterheim," I called, "what do you want with us?"

"I want nothing from Sedenko, who can continue on his way without fear," said the thin-faced priest. "But it is your life I want, von Bek, and nothing less."

"Can I have given you so much offence?"

It was then that I realised we were still in Mittelmarch. I began to chuckle. "Oh, Klosterheim, what terrible things you have done in God's name! Were our Master still the creature He was, He would be more than pleased with you. You are as damned as the rest of us! And you are one of those who fears that my Quest shall bring an end to everything, mat you will have no home, no master, no future, no identity. Is that why you fear me so, Klosterheim?"

Johannes Klosterheim almost growled in reply. His eyes darted from side to side of the trail. He looked upwards. He was seeking a means of outranking us. There was none. "You reckon without my power," he said. "That has not been taken from me. Arioch!"

He cried the name of one of Lucifer's Dukes, perhaps his patron. He moved his hand as if he flung an invisible ball at the cliff. Something cracked high overhead. It might have been lightning. A disgusting smell came into my nostrils.

"Try the pistol, Sedenko," I murmured.

The gun boomed from behind me and I felt its flash. The ball went wide of Klosterheim, and I heard it strike a glowing black breastplate and then bounce against a rock.

"Arioch!"

Again the lightning and I glimpsed a huge piece of rock as it fell away from the outer wall of the crevice and dropped hundreds of feet into the chasm on the other side.

"You are a powerful magus, Klosterheim," said I. "And one wonders why you posed for so long as a holy priest."

"I am holy," said Klosterheim through his teeth. "My cause is the noblest there has ever been. I leagued myself with Lucifer to destroy God! I have been about the world showing, in the name of God, what horrors can exist. There was no cause nobler than Lucifer's…and now He seeks to capitulate, to abandon us, to let Hell and all it stands for be swept away. As Lucifer defied God, so it is my right to defy Lucifer. We are threatened with betrayal. He is my Master, von Bek, as well as yours. And I have served Him well!"

"But you do not serve Him now. He will be angered with you."

"What of it? He has no allies worth the name. His own Dukes are against Him. What will happen to them if God takes Him back?"

"Is Hell in rebellion?" I said in surprise.

"So it could be said. Lucifer loses authority by the hour. Your Master is weaker now, von Bek, than even the simpering Christ who first betrayed humanity! And I will not tolerate weakness! Arioch!"

Another crack of lightning. The burning black helms looked up as if in appreciation. Fragments of rock began to fall down on Sedenko and myself. "Ride fast, Sedenko," I cried. "Away from here. It is our only hope."

Sedenko hesitated. I insisted. "Ride! It is a command!"

From overhead the slabs of granite began to groan, and snow poured down the sides of the crevice until I thought I would be buried.

"Now you are alone, von Bek," said Klosterheim with relish. "I owe you much and would like to repay it slowly. But m be satisfied with taking your life and returning your failed soul to our Master."

"You deny that He is your Master," I reminded the warrior-priest. "And yet you know that He is. He will punish you, surely, Johannes Klosterheim. You cannot escape Him."

"Then why should Lord Arioch lend me twenty of his knights?" said Klosterheim with a sneer. "There is Civil War in Hell, Captain von Bek. You shall be a victim of that War, not I."

He cried out the name of his patron again. Again lightning cracked.

I did not wait, but turned my horse about and galloped along the crevice in Sedenko's wake, as rock tumbled down from above. I recalled something I had read in one of the grimoires and as I rode I leant into my saddlebag to find the book. I came out onto a clear part of the trail. The foothills were less than half an hour's ride ahead. There we should have more of a chance of escaping Klosterheim's hellish force.

I looked back.

The knights in their fiery black armour were riding their black horses over the rubble. I glimpsed a purple plume. I sensed that my own horse was weakening, that before long he must turn a leg and throw me. I reined him hi and shortened his stride. He was panting. I could feel his heart thumping against my leg. I found the grimoire, took my reins in my teeth and sought the page I remembered. Here, in cramped letters, I discovered what I needed: Words of Power Against the Servants of Duke Arioch. Had Lucifer anticipated the treachery of His Dukes? The words themselves were meaningless to me but I brought my horse about, knowing I possessed no other weapon against the knights.

I cried out: "Rehoim Farach Nyadah!" in as loud a voice as I could muster.

I saw the knights begin to slow their pace, only to be urged on by a yelling Klosterheim.

"Rehoim Farach Nyadah! Gushnyet Maradai Karag!"

The knights drew up suddenly. Klosterheim emerged from the press, still galloping. He was glaring at me, his blade in his hand, and I dropped the grimoire back into the saddlebag as I drew my own sword, just in time to meet a fierce and accurate blow which, had it landed, would have removed my arm.

I thrust, was parried and blocked Klosterheim's retaliation. I saw that the knights were beginning to stir. They seemed confused.

Klosterheim was snarling like a beast as he fought. His very hatred might have been enough to destroy me. He struck and struck again. I defended myself. Then I heard hoof beats behind me and Sedenko was riding up to my aid. A pistol exploded. Klosterheim's horse shouted and went down. The knights were beginning to move forward. Klosterheim struggled to his feet, his sword still in his hand. He ran at me, mindless with fury.

"Best leave now, captain," called Sedenko.

I took his advice. Even as we fled down the trait I saw Klosterheim stumbling towards Arioch's soldiers and pushing one of them from his steed so that he collapsed in a heap of blazing black metal.

We reached relatively flat ground at about the same time the sun came out and made the snow glitter. We heard Klosterheim and his men behind us. The sun grew warmer and warmer, threatening to melt the snow, by the time we dared to look back and see that they were almost upon us. I tried to recall the exact words I had used from the grimoire and I shouted them. But our pursuers did not this time stop.

Even as they gained on us the riders in black armour spread out in a widening semicircle to surround us.

The sun was uncomfortably hot. The road was dusty and so disturbed that it impaired my vision. I could see Sedenko ahead of me but I could only hear our enemies.

I was drenched in sweat as I caught up the young Muscovite and cried that we had no choice but to fight, though it was almost certain we were doomed. I fished for the grimoire and found the words of power again.

We set our horses back to back, peering through the dust and trying to see the riders as they closed in. "Rehoim Farach Nyadah!" I shouted with desperate authority.

The dust began to settle. Our pursuers were upon us.! saw Klosterheim's purple plume. I saw dark shapes advancing.

A long blade darted at me and I blocked it. I struck back, expecting to connect with plate armour. Instead my sword-point entered flesh and I heard a grunt of pain.

I saw the face of my attacker. It was swarthy, unshaven, cross-eyed.

It had become the face of a common brigand.