‘Those bells have been calling me for ten years now,’ he replied. ‘Somehow I’ve always known that someday I’d come back to this monastery.’ He straightened in his saddle ‘It’s a good place,’ he said. ‘I’m a little sorry to leave it, but,’ He shrugged and rode on.

The morning sun was very bright, and it reflected back blindingly from the wasteland of rock, sand, and gravel lying on the left side of the road. On the right side was a steep bank leading down to a gleaming white beach, and beyond that lay the deep blue waters of the inner sea. Within an hour it was quite warm. A half-hour later it was hot.

‘Don’t they ever get a winter down here?’ Kurik asked. mopping at his streaming face.

‘This is winter, Kurik,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘What’s it like in the summer?’

‘Unpleasant. In the summer you have to travel at night.’

‘How far is it to Jiroch?’

‘About five hundred leagues.’

‘Three weeks at least.’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘We should have gone by ship – waterspouts or no.’

‘No, Kurik,’ Sephrenia disagreed. ‘None of us could be of any help to Ehlana if we’re all lying on the bottom of the sea.’

‘Won’t that thing that’s after us just use magic to locate us anyway?’

‘It seems that it can’t do that,’ she replied. ‘When it was looking for Sparhawk ten years ago, it had to question people. It couldn’t just sniff him out.’

‘I’d forgotten that,’ he admitted.

They rose early each day, even before the stars faded, and pushed their horses hard during the early morning hours before the sun became a bludgeon at midday. Then they rested in the scant shade of the tent the abbot had pressed on them, while their mounts grazed listlessly on scrubby forage in the blistering sun. As the sun sank towards the west, they rode on, usually until well after dark. Occasionally, they reached some desert spring, inevitably surrounded by lush vegetation and shade. At times, they lingered for a day to rest their horses and to gather the strength to face the savage sun again.