The Ruby Knight

that matter, so would Ghwerig.
    The light breeze was still blowing as they rode west, and puffy white clouds marched at a stately pace across the deep blue sky.
    ‘There’s a grove of cedar trees up ahead,’ Kurik said, pointing to a low, dark green patch of vegetation a quarter of a mile away. ‘We’re going to need to build a raft when we get to the lake. Come along, Berit. Let’s start chopping.’ He led his string of pack-horses towards the grove with the novice close behind him.
    Sparhawk and his friends reached the lake about mid-morning and stood looking out over the water rippling in the breeze. ‘That’s going to make looking for something on the bottom very difficult,’ Kalten said, pointing towards the murky, peat-stained depths.
    ‘Any notion of where the Earl of Heid might have come out on the lake-shore?’ Sparhawk asked Ulath.
    ‘Count Ghasek’s story said that some Alcione Knights came along and buried him,’ the Genidian replied. ‘They were in a hurry, so they probably wouldn’t have moved his body very far from where he fell. Let’s look around for a grave.’
    ‘After five hundred years?’ Kalten said sceptically. ‘There won’t be much to mark it, Ulath.’
    ‘I think you’re wrong, Kalten,’ Tynian disagreed. ‘Deirans build cairns over graves when they bury somebody. The earth might flatten out over a grave, but rocks are a bit more permanent.’
    ‘All right,’ Sparhawk said, ‘let’s spread out and start looking for a pile of rocks.’
    It was Talen who found the grave, a low mound of brown-stained stones, partially covered by muddy silt which had accumulated over centuries of high water. Tynian marked it by sinking the butt of his pennon-tipped lance into the mud at the foot of the grave.
    ‘Shall we get started?’ Kalten asked.
    ‘Let’s wait for Kurik and Berit,’ Sparhawk said. ‘The lake-bottom’s a little too soupy for wading. We’re going to need that raft.’
    It was perhaps a half-hour later when the squire and the novice joined them. The pack-horses were laboriously pulling a dozen cedar logs behind them.
    It was shortly after noon when they finished lashing the logs together with ropes to form a crude raft. The knights had discarded their armour and worked in loin cloths, sweating in the hot sun.
    ‘You’re getting sunburned,’ Kalten told the pale-skinned Ulath.
    ‘I always do,’ Ulath replied. ‘Thalesians don’t tan very well.’ He straightened as he finished tying the last knot in the rope which held one end of the raft together. ‘Well, let’s launch it and see if it floats,’ he suggested.
    They pushed the raft down the slippery mud beach into the water. Ulath looked at it critically. ‘I wouldn’t want to make a sea voyage on that thing,’ he said, ‘but it’s good enough for our purposes here. Berit, go over to that willow thicket and cut yourself a couple of saplings.’
    The novice nodded and returned a few minutes later with two long, springy wands.
    Ulath went to the grave and picked up two stones somewhat larger than his fist. He hefted them a couple of times, one in each hand, then tossed one to Sparhawk. ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Does that feel to be about the same weight as a gold crown?’
    ‘How would I know?’ Sparhawk asked. ‘I’ve never worn a crown.’
    ‘Guess, Sparhawk. The day’s wearing on, and the mosquitoes are going to come out before long.’
    ‘All right, that’s probably about the weight of a crown, give or take a few pounds.’
    ‘That’s what I thought. All right, Berit, take your saplings and pole the raft out into the lake. We’re going to mark the area we want to search.’
    Berit looked a little puzzled, but did as he was told.
    Ulath hefted one of his rocks. ‘That’s far enough, Berit,’ he called. He gave the rock an underhand toss towards the shaky raft. ‘Mark that place!’ he bellowed.
    Berit wiped the water the rock had splashed on him from his face. ‘Yes, Sir Ulath,’ he said, poling the raft towards the widening circles on the surface of the lake. Then he took one of his willow saplings and sank one end of it down into the muddy bottom.
    ‘Now pole the raft off to the left,’ Ulath shouted. ‘I’ll throw the next rock a ways beyond you.’
    ‘Your left or mine, Sir Ulath?’ Berit asked politely.
    ‘Take your pick. I just don’t want to brain you with this.’ Ulath was tossing his rock from one hand to the other and squinting out at the