‘Carefully, I’d imagine,’ Ulath replied. ‘I’ve crossed a few quicksand bogs up in Thalesia. You spend a lot of time probing in front of you with a stick – a long one, preferably.’

‘The Peloi have the trail marked,’ Sparhawk assured them. ‘They’ve poked sticks into solid ground.’

‘Which side of the sticks are we supposed to stay on?’ Kalten asked.

‘Kring didn’t say,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘I imagine we’ll find out before we go very far, though.’

They rode down the ridge and moved at a careful walk out into the sticky black quagmire. The air hanging above the bogs was thick with the penetrating odour of naphtha, and Sparhawk began to feel somewhat light-headed after a short distance.

They plodded on, their pace slowed by the need for caution. Great viscous bubbles rose up from the depths of the naphtha sinks around them to pop with odd belching sounds. When they neared the southern end of the bog, they passed the burning pillar, a column of blue flame that roared endlessly as it shot up from the earth. Once they had passed that blazing shaft, the ground began to rise and they were soon out of the bogs. Perhaps it had been the heat from the burning gasses spurting from the earth that made the contrast so noticeable, but when they left the bogs behind, the air seemed much, much colder.

‘We’ve got weather coming,’ Kurik warned. ‘Rain at first most likely, but I think there might be snow behind it.’

‘No trip through the mountains is complete without snow,’ Ulath observed.

‘What are we supposed to look for now?’ Tynian asked Sparhawk.

‘That,’ Sparhawk replied, pointing at a high cliff with broad yellow bands running diagonally across its face. ‘Kring gives very good directions.’ He peered on ahead and saw a tree with a patch of bark slashed away. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘The trail to the pass is marked. Let’s ride on before the rain starts.’

The pass was in fact an ancient stream-bed. The climate of Eosia had changed over the eons, and as Zemoch had grown more and more arid, the stream which had patiently carved the narrow ravine had dried up at its source, leaving a steep gully running back up into the towering cliff.

As Kurik had predicted, the rain began in the late afternoon. It was a steady drizzle that dampened everything.

‘Sir Sparhawk,’ Berit called from the rear. ‘I think you should take a look at this.’

Sparhawk reined in and rode back. ‘What is it, Berit?’