The Ruby Knight

night had fallen over Lamorkand. Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘let’s go and have a look. Sephrenia, you and the children and His Grace stay here out of sight.’ He led the way out of the thicket. Once they were clear of the trees, he and his companions fanned out, all of them peering intently into the night. The clouds obscured the moon and stars and made the darkness almost total.
    Sparhawk moved around the thicket. On the far side he bumped into Kalten.
    ‘It’s darker than the inside of your boots out here,’ Kalten said.
    ‘Did you see anything?’
    ‘Not a glimmer. There’s a hill on the back side of these trees, though. Kurik’s going up to the top to look around.’
    ‘Good. I’ll trust Kurik’s eyes any time.’
    ‘Me too. Why don’t you get him knighted, Sparhawk? When you get right down to it, he’s better than any of us.’
    ‘Aslade would kill me. She’s not set up to be the wife of a knight.’
    Kalten laughed as they moved on, straining their eyes into the blackness.
    ‘Sparhawk.’ Kurik’s voice came from not far away.
    ‘Over here.’
    The squire joined them. ‘That’s a fairly high hill,’ he puffed. ‘The only light I saw was coming from a village a mile or so to the south.’
    ‘You’re sure it wasn’t a campfire?’ Kalten asked him.
    ‘Campfires make a different kind of light than lamps shining through a dozen windows, Kalten.’
    ‘That’s true, I suppose.’
    ‘I suppose that’s it, then,’ Sparhawk said. He raised his fingers to his lips and whistled, a signal for the others to return to the camp.
    ‘What do you think?’ Kalten asked as they pushed their way through the stiffly rustling brush towards the centre of the thicket where the dim light of their banked cook-fire was scarcely more than a faint red glow in the darkness.
    ‘Let’s ask His Grace,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s his neck we’ll be risking.’ They entered the brush-clogged encampment and Sparhawk pushed back the hood of his cloak. ‘We have a decision to make, Your Grace,’ he told the patriarch. ‘The area appears to be deserted. Sir Tynian has suggested that two of us could escort you to Chyrellos in as much safety as the whole group. Our search for Bhelliom must not be delayed if we’re to keep Annias off the Archprelate’s throne. The choice is up to you, though.’
    ‘I can go on to Chyrellos alone, Sir Sparhawk. My brother is overly concerned about my well-being. My cassock alone will protect me.’
    ‘I’d rather not gamble on that, your Grace. You’ll recall that I mentioned that something was pursuing us?’
    ‘Yes. I believe you called it a Seeker.’
    ‘Exactly. The creature is ill now because of the fumes Sephrenia created, but there’s no way to be positive of how long its illness will last. It wouldn’t look upon you as an enemy, though. If it should attack, run away. It’s unlikely that it would follow you. I think that under the circumstances, though, Tynian’s right. Two of us will be enough to ensure your safety.’
    ‘As you see fit, my son.’
    The others had entered the camp during the conversation, and Tynian volunteered immediately.
    ‘No.’ Sephrenia rejected that idea. ‘You’re the one most skilled at necromancy. We’re going to need you as soon as we reach Lake Randera.’
    ‘I’ll go,’ Bevier said. ‘I have a fast horse and can catch up with you at the lake.’
    ‘I’ll go with him,’ Kurik offered. ‘If you run into more trouble, Sparhawk, you’ll need knights with you.’
    ‘There’s not that much difference between you and a knight, Kurik.’
    ‘I don’t wear armour, Sparhawk,’ the squire pointed out. ‘The spectacle of Church Knights charging with lances makes people start thinking about their own mortality. It’s a good way to avoid serious fighting.’
    ‘He’s right, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said, ‘and if we run into more Zemochs and church soldiers, you’re going to need men wearing steel around you.’
    ‘All right,’ Sparhawk agreed. He turned to Ortzel. ‘I want to apologize for having offended Your Grace,’ he said. ‘I don’t really see that we had much choice, though. If we’d all been forced to stay penned up in your brother’s castle, both of our missions would have failed, and the Church could not afford that.’
    ‘I still do not entirely approve, Sir Sparhawk, but your argument is most cogent. No apology is necessary.’
    ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk said.