The Ruby Knight

lifetime to do. If he had Bhelliom in his possession, however, it would not only be his own life he would be risking, but Ehlana’s as well, and that was unacceptable. Moreover, as soon as Azash sensed Bhelliom’s re-emergence, the Seeker would hurl whole armies against them in a desperate attempt to seize the jewel.
    The solution was simple, of course. All they had to do was to come up with a way to convey the horses to the west side of the lake. Then the Seeker could haunt the region around Venne until it grew old and died without causing Sparhawk and his friends any further inconvenience. The boat which he and Kurik had hired, though, would not be capable of carrying more than two horses at a time. The notion of making eight or nine separate trips half-way down the lake to deposit the horses on some lonely beach on the west side of the lake made Sparhawk almost want to scream with impatience. Hiring several boats was an alternative, though not a very good one. A single boat probably would not attract attention; a fleet of them, though, would. Perhaps they could find someone dependable enough to herd the horses down the west shore. The only problem with that was that Sparhawk was not sure whether the Seeker could identify the smell of the horses as well as that of the people who rode them. He scratched absently at the finger which bore his ring. The finger seemed to be tingling and throbbing for some reason.
    There was a light tap on the door.
    ‘I’m busy,’ he said irritably.
    ‘Sparhawk.’ The voice was light and musical, and it had that peculiar lilt that identified the speaker as Styric. Sparhawk frowned. He didn’t recognize the voice.
    ‘Sparhawk, I need to talk with you.’
    He rose and went to the door. To his astonishment, it was Flute. She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
    ‘So you can talk?’ he asked, surprised.
    ‘Of course I can.’
    ‘Why haven’t you then?’
    ‘It wasn’t necessary before. You Elenes babble far too much.’ Although her voice was that of a little girl, her words and inflections were peculiarly adult. ‘Listen to me, Sparhawk. This is very important. We must all leave immediately.’
    ‘It’s the middle of the night, Flute,’ he objected.
    ‘How terribly observant of you,’ she said, looking towards the darkened window. ‘Now please be still and listen. Ghwerig has retrieved Bhelliom. We have to intercept him before he can get to the north coast and sneak aboard a ship bound for Thalesia. If he evades us, we’ll have to follow him to his cave in the mountains of Thalesia, and that would take quite a while.’
    ‘According to Ulath, nobody even knows where the cave is.’
    ‘I know where it is. I’ve been there before.’
    ‘You what ?’
    ‘Sparhawk, you’re wasting time. I have to get out of this city. There’s too much distraction here. I can’t feel what’s happening. Put on your iron suit and let’s go.’ Her tone was abrupt, even imperious. She looked at him, her large, dark eyes grave. ‘Is it possible that you’re such a total lump that you can’t feel Bhelliom moving through the world? Isn’t that ring telling you anything?’
    He started slightly and looked at the ruby ring on his left hand. It still seemed to be throbbing. The small child standing in front of him seemed to know far too much. ‘Does Sephrenia know about all this?’
    ‘Of course. She’s getting our things together.’
    ‘Let’s go and talk with her.’
    ‘You’re beginning to irritate me, Sparhawk.’ Her dark eyes flashed, and the corners of her bow-like pink mouth turned down.
    ‘I’m sorry, Flute, but I still have to talk with Sephrenia.’
    She rolled her eyes upward. ‘Elenes,’ she said in a tone so like Sephrenia’s that Sparhawk almost laughed. He took her hand and led her from the room and down the hallway.
    Sephrenia was busily stowing clothing, both hers and Flute’s, in the canvas bag sitting on the bed in her room. ‘Come right in, Sparhawk,’ she said to him as he paused in the doorway. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
    ‘What’s going on, Sephrenia?’ he asked in a baffled tone of voice.
    ‘Didn’t you tell him?’ she asked Flute.
    ‘Yes, but he doesn’t seem to believe me. How can you tolerate these stubborn people?’
    ‘They have a certain charm. Believe her, Sparhawk,’ she said gravely to him. ‘She knows what she’s talking about. Bhelliom has emerged from the lake. I felt it myself, and now Ghwerig