The Ruby Knight

Sparhawk?’
    ‘Let them dig. They’re not bothering us – at least not as long as they stay where they are. Men who belong to the Seeker wouldn’t be interested in treasure.’
    They rode on along the beach until late afternoon. ‘What do you say to making camp up there?’ Kurik suggested, pointing to a large pile of driftwood just ahead. ‘I’ve got some dry wood in one of the packs, and we ought to be able to find more near the bottom of that pile.’
    Sparhawk looked up at the dripping clouds, gauging the time of day. ‘It’s time to stop anyway,’ he agreed.
    They reined in beside the driftwood, and Kurik built his fire. Berit and Talen began pulling relatively dry sticks out from under the pile, but after a little while Berit went back to his horse for his battle-axe.
    ‘What are you going to do with that?’ Ulath asked him.
    ‘I’m going to chop up some of those larger pieces with it, Sir Ulath.’
    ‘No, you’re not.’
    Berit looked a bit startled.
    ‘That’s not what it was made for. You’ll dull the edge, and you might need that edge before long.’
    ‘My axe is in that pack over there, Berit,’ Kurik told the shame-faced novice. ‘Use that. I don’t plan to hit anybody with it.’
    ‘Kurik,’ Sephrenia said from inside the tent Sparhawk and Kalten had just erected for her and Flute, ‘put up a cover near the fire, and string a rope under it.’ She emerged from the tent wearing a Styric smock and carrying her dripping white robe in one hand and Flute’s garment in the other. ‘It’s time to dry out some clothes.’
    After the sun went down, a night breeze began to blow in off the lake, making the tents flap and tossing the flames of their fire. They ate a meagre supper and then sought their beds.
    About midnight, Kalten came back from where he had been standing watch. He shook Sparhawk awake. ‘It’s your turn,’ he said quietly to avoid waking the others.
    ‘All right.’ Sparhawk sat up, yawning. ‘Did you find a good place?’
    ‘That hill just behind the beach. Watch your step climbing it, though. They’ve been digging in the sides of it.’
    Sparhawk began to put on his armour.
    ‘We’re not alone here, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said, removing his helmet and his dripping black cloak. ‘I saw a half-dozen fires a good way out in that field.’
    ‘More Pelosians and Lamorks?’
    ‘It’s a little hard to say. A fire doesn’t usually have any kind of identifying marks on it.’
    ‘Don’t tell Talen and Berit. I don’t want them creeping around in the dark any more. Get some sleep, Kalten. Tomorrow might be a long day.’
    Sparhawk carefully climbed the pitted side of the hill and took up a position on top. He immediately saw the fires Kalten had mentioned, but saw also that they were a long way off and posed little threat.
    They had been long on the road now, and a growing sense of impatient urgency gnawed at Sparhawk. Ehlana sat alone in the silent throne-room back in Cimmura with her life ticking away. A few more months and her heartbeat would falter and then stop. Sparhawk pulled his mind away from that thought. As he usually did when that apprehension came over him, he deliberately set his mind on other matters and other memories.
    The rain was chill and damp and unpleasant, so he turned his thoughts to Rendor, where the blistering sun burned all trace of moisture from the air. He remembered the lines of black-veiled women gracefully going to the well at dawn before the sun made the streets of Jiroch unbearable. He remembered Lillias with a wry smile, and he wondered if the melodramatic scene in the street near the docks had earned her the kind of respect she so desperately needed.
    And then he remembered Martel. That night in Arasham’s tent in Dabour had been a good one. To see his hated enemy filled with chagrin and frustration had been almost as satisfying as killing him might have been. ‘Someday, though, Martel,’ he muttered. ‘You have a lot to pay for, and I think it’s almost time for me to collect.’ It was a good thought, and Sparhawk dwelt on it as he stood in the rain. He thought about it in some detail until it was time to rouse Ulath for his turn on watch.
    They broke camp at daybreak and rode on down the rain-swept beach.
    About mid-morning, Sephrenia reined in her white palfrey with a warning hiss. ‘Zemochs,’ she said sharply.
    ‘Where?’ Sparhawk asked.
    ‘I can’t be sure. They’re close, though, and their intentions are