The Ruby Knight

the image as much as I can for you.’
    It was a bit hard to make out, but it seemed that one of the serfs emerged from the lake carrying a mud-caked object in his hand. ‘King Sarak’s crown,’ Sephrenia identified the object.
    The black-robed Seeker rushed along the lake-shore, its scorpion-like claws extended and clicking eagerly, but Ghwerig reached the serf before Azash’s creature could. With a mighty blow of his gnarled fist he crushed in the side of the serf’s head and seized the crown. Then he turned and ran before the Seeker could summon its followers out of the lake. Ghwerig’s run was a peculiar loping gait involving both legs and one extraordinarily long arm. A man might be able to run faster, but not by very much.
    The image faded.
    ‘What happened next?’ Kurik asked.
    ‘Ghwerig stopped from time to time when one of the serfs began to overtake him,’ Sephrenia replied. ‘It looked as if he were deliberately slowing down. He killed them one by one.’
    ‘Where’s Ghwerig now?’ Tynian asked.
    ‘We can’t tell,’ Flute told him. ‘It’s very hard to follow a Troll in the dark. That’s why we have to get out into the open countryside. Sephrenia and I can feel Bhelliom, but only if we can get clear of all these townsmen.’
    Tynian considered it. ‘The Seeker’s more or less out of the picture now,’ he said. ‘It’s going to have to go out and gather more people before it can go after Ghwerig.’
    ‘That’s a comforting thought,’ Kalten said. ‘I wouldn’t want to have to take them both on at once.’
    ‘We’d better get started,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘Put on your armour, gentlemen,’ he suggested. ‘When we run across Ghwerig, we might need it.’
    They went back to their rooms to gather their belongings and to dress themselves in steel. Sparhawk clanked down the stairs to settle up with the fat innkeeper, who stood leaning against the doorway of the empty tap-room, sleepy-eyed and yawning.
    ‘We’re going to be leaving now,’ Sparhawk said to him.
    ‘It’s still dark outside, Sir Knight.’
    ‘I know, but something came up.’
    ‘You’ve heard the news then, I gather.’
    ‘What news was that?’ Sparhawk asked him cautiously.
    ‘There’s trouble down in Arcium. I haven’t been able to really get the straight of it, but there’s even been talk that it might be a war of some kind.’
    Sparhawk frowned. ‘That doesn’t make much sense, neighbour. Arcium’s not like Lamorkand. The Arcian nobles foreswore their blood-feuds generations ago at the king’s command.’
    ‘I can only repeat what I heard, Sir Knight. The word that I’ve picked up is that the kingdoms of western Eosia are all mobilizing. Earlier tonight some fellows came through Venne in quite a hurry – fellows who weren’t very interested in going off to fight in a foreign war – and they say that there’s a huge army gathering to the west of the lake conscripting every man they run across.’
    ‘The western kingdoms wouldn’t mobilize because of a civil war in Arcium,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘That kind of thing is an internal matter.’
    ‘That’s what puzzles me too,’ the innkeeper agreed, ‘but what puzzles me even more is that some of those timid fellows have said that a fair portion of that army is made up of Thalesians.’
    ‘They must have been wrong,’ Sparhawk said. ‘King Wargun drinks quite a bit, but he still wouldn’t invade a friendly kingdom. If these men you mentioned were trying to avoid being conscripted, they probably wouldn’t have stopped to examine the men who were chasing them, and one man in a mail-shirt looks much like another.’
    ‘That’s probably very true, Sir Knight.’
    Sparhawk paid for their night’s lodging. ‘Thank you for the information, neighbour,’ he said to the innkeeper as the others began to come down the stairway. He turned and went out to the courtyard.
    ‘What’s going on, Sir Sparhawk?’ Berit asked, handing Sparhawk Faran’s reins.
    ‘The Seeker was watching us while we were in the lake,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘One of its men found Bhelliom, but Ghwerig the Troll took it away from him. Now we have to go and find Ghwerig.’
    ‘That might be a little difficult, Sir Sparhawk. There’s fog rolling in off the lake.’
    ‘Hopefully, it’ll burn off before Ghwerig gets this far north.’
    The others came out of the inn. ‘Let’s all get mounted,’ Sparhawk said to them. ‘Which way do we go, Flute?’
    ‘North