It was when they reached a hilltop several miles from Chyrellos that the Preceptors turned back. The advice and the cautions had all been given, and so there was little to do but clasp hands and to wish each other well. Sparhawk and his friends rather soberly watched as their leaders rode back to the Holy City.

‘Well,’ Tynian said, ‘now that we’re alone –’

‘Let’s talk for a few moments first,’ Sparhawk said. He raised his voice. ‘Domi,’ he called, ‘would you join us for a moment, please?’

Kring rode up the hill, an inquiring look on his face.

‘Now then,’ Sparhawk began, ‘Martel seems to think that Azash will want us to get through without any difficulty, but Martel might be wrong. Azash has many servants, and He may very well loose them on us. He wants Bhelliom, not any satisfaction He might get from a personal confrontation. Kring, I think you’d better put out scouts. Let’s not be taken by surprise.’

‘I will, friend Sparhawk,’ the Domi promised.

‘If we should happen to encounter any of the servants of Azash, I want all of you to fall back and let me deal with them. I’ve got Bhelliom, and that should be all the advantage I’ll need. Kalten raised the point that we might just overtake Martel. If we do, try to take Martel and Annias alive. The Church wants them to stand trial. I doubt that Arissa or Lycheas will offer much resistance, so take them as well.’

‘And Adus?’ Kalten asked eagerly.

‘Adus can barely talk, so he wouldn’t be of much value in any trial. You can have him – as a personal gift from me.’

They had gone perhaps another mile when they found Stragen sitting under a tree. ‘I thought perhaps you’d got lost,’ the slender thief drawled, rising to his feet.

‘Do I sense a volunteer here?’ Tynian suggested.

‘Hardly, old boy,’ Stragen said. ‘I’ve never had occasion to visit Zemoch, and I think I want to keep it that way. Actually, I’m here as the queen’s messenger, and her personal envoy. I’ll ride along with you as far as the Zemoch border, if I may, and then I’ll return to Cimmura to give her my report.’

‘Aren’t you spending a great deal of time away from your own business?’ Kurik asked him.

‘My business in Emsat sort of runs itself. Tel’s looking out for my interests there. I need a vacation anyway.’ He patted at his doublet in various places. ‘Oh yes, here it is.’ He drew out a folded sheet of parchment. ‘A letter for you from your bride, Sparhawk,’ he said, handing it over. ‘It’s the first of several I’m supposed to give you when the occasion dictates.’

Sparhawk moved Faran away from the others and broke the seal on Ehlana’s note.