‘One other thing. If you should happen to encounter any sheep, you have to step aside for them.’

‘Say that again?’ Kurik’s tone was incredulous.

‘It’s very important, Kurik.’

‘You’re not serious!’

‘Deadly serious. Eshand was a shepherd when he was a boy and he used to go absolutely wild when someone rode through his flock. When he came to power, he announced that God had revealed to him that sheep were holy animals and that everyone had to give way to them.’

‘That’s crazy, Sparhawk,’ Kurik protested.

‘Of course it is. It’s the law here, though.’

‘Isn’t it strange how the Elene God’s revelations always seem to coincide exactly with the prejudices of His prophets?’ Sephrenia murmured.

‘Do they do anything at all like normal people?’ Kurik asked.

‘Not many things, no.’

As the sun went down, the captain moored his boat against the river bank, and he and his sailors spread pallets on the aft deck. Sparhawk rose and went amidships. He laid his hand on Faran’s neck. ‘Stay awake,’ he told the big roan. ‘If someone starts creeping around in the middle of the night, let me know about it.’

Faran bared his teeth and shifted around until he was resolutely facing aft. Sparhawk patted his rump familiarly and went back forward.

They took a cold supper of bread and cheese, then spread their blankets on the deck.

‘Sparhawk,’ Kurik said after they had settled down for the night.

‘Yes, Kurik?’

‘I’ve just had a thought. Are there many people riding in and out of Dabour?’

‘Usually, yes. Arasham’s presence there tends to attract large crowds.’

‘I sort of thought so. Wouldn’t we be a little less conspicuous if we got off this boat a league or so this side of Dabour and joined one of the groups of pilgrims riding into the city?’

‘You think of everything, don’t you, Kurik?’

‘That’s what you pay me for, Sparhawk. Sometimes you knights aren’t too practical. It’s a squire’s job to keep you out of trouble’

‘I appreciate that, Kurik.’

‘No extra charge,’ Kurik said.

The night passed uneventfully, and at dawn the sailors cast off their moorings and raised the sail again. They passed the town of Kodhl about midmorning of the following day and sailed on upriver towards the holy city of Dabour. The river between towns was heavily travelled. There seemed to be no organized pattern to the traffic, and the boats occasionally bumped into each other. Such incidents were usually accompanied by an exchange of curses and insults.

It was about noon on the fourth day when Sparhawk went aft to have a word with the one-eyed captain. ‘We’re getting fairly close, aren’t we?’ he asked.

‘About five more leagues,’ the captain replied, moving his tiller slightly to avoid an oncoming boat. ‘Mangy son of a three-legged donkey!’ he bellowed at the steersman of the other vessel.