And then from somewhere out in the forest they heard a strange, flute-like sound. The melody was in a minor key, but it was not sad; rather it seemed filled with an ageless joy

Sephrenia’s eyes grew wide, and she made a peculiar gesture with her right hand.

‘A shepherd maybe?’ Sparhawk said.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not a shepherd.’ She stood up. ‘Come with me, Sparhawk,’ she said, and then she led him away from the fire.

The sky was growing lighter as they moved out into the meadow lying just to the south of their encampment, following the flute-like sound. They approached the sentry Sparhawk had stationed there.

‘You heard it, too, my Lord Sparhawk?’ the black-armoured knight asked.

‘Yes. Can you see who it is or where it’s coming from?’

‘I can’t make out who it is yet, but it seems to be coming from that tree out in the centre of the meadow. Do you want me to come along with you?’

‘No. Stay here. We’ll investigate.’

Sephrenia had already gone on ahead, moving directly towards the tree that seemed to be the source of the strange melody

‘You’d better let me go first,’ Sparhawk said when he caught up with her.

‘There’s no danger, Sparhawk.’

When they reached the tree, Sparhawk peered up through the shadowy limbs and saw the mysterious musician. It was a little girl of six or so. Her long hair was black and glossy, and her large eyes were as deep as night. A headband of plaited grass encircled her brow, holding her hair back. She was sitting on a limb breathing sound into a simple, many-chambered set of pipes such as a goatherd might play Although it was quite cold, she wore only a short, belted linen smock that left her arms and legs bare. Her grass-stained, unshod feet were crossed, and she perched on the limb with a sedate sureness.

‘What’s she doing here?’ Sparhawk asked, puzzled. ‘There aren’t any houses or villages around.’

‘I think she’s been waiting for us,’ Sephrenia replied.

That doesn’t make any sense.’ He looked up at the child. ‘What’s your name, little girl?’ he asked.

‘Let me question her, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said. ‘She’s a Styric child, and they tend to be shy.’ She pushed back her hood and spoke to the little girl in a dialect Sparhawk did not understand.

The child lowered her rude pipe and smiled. Her lips were like a small, pink bow

Sephrenia asked her another question in a strange, gentle tone.

The little girl shook her head.

‘Does she live in some house back in the forest?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘She has no home nearby,’ Sephrenia said.

‘Doesn’t she talk?’

‘She chooses not to.’

Sparhawk looked around. ‘Well, we can’t leave her here.’ He reached up his arms to the child. ‘Come down, little girl,’ he said.