‘Be glad it’s only raining water, Houna. When our friends encounter the Church Knights on the plains of Lamorkand, they’ll probably run into cloudbursts of fire – or lightning – or poisonous snakes.’

‘The Church Knights can’t be that bad,’ Houna scoffed. ‘We’ve got Azash to protect us.’

‘Some protection,’ Timak sneered. ‘Azash boils Zemoch babies down for soup-stock.’

‘That’s superstitious nonsense, Timak.’

‘Have you ever known anybody who went to his temple and came back?’

A shrill whistle came from some distance off.

‘That’s Surkhel,’ Timak said. ‘It’s time to move on, I guess. I wonder if he knows how irritating that whistling is?’

‘He has to whistle, Timak. He hasn’t learned how to talk yet. Let’s go.’

‘What did they say?’ Kurik whispered. ‘Who are they?’

‘They seem to be a part of a patrol of some kind,’ Sparhawk replied.

‘Looking for us? Did Martel manage to send people out in spite of everything?’

‘I don’t think so. From what those two said, they’re out to round up everybody who hasn’t gone off to war. Let’s gather up the others and move on.’

‘What were they saying?’ Kalten asked as they set out again.

‘They were complaining,’ Sparhawk said. ‘They sounded like soldiers the whole world over. I think if we push aside all these horror-stories, we’ll find that Zemochs aren’t really all that much different from common people the world over.’

‘They worship Azash,’ Bevier said stubbornly. ‘That makes them monsters by definition.’

‘They fear Azash, Bevier,’ Sparhawk corrected. ‘There’s a difference between fear and worship. I don’t really think we need to embark on a war of total annihilation here in Zemoch. We need to clean out the fanatics and the elite troops – along with Azash and Otha, of course. After that, I think we can leave the common people alone to pick out their own theology, whether it’s Elene or Styric’

‘They’re a degenerate race, Sparhawk,’ Bevier insisted stubbornly. ‘The intermarriage of Styric and Elene is an abomination in the eyes of God.’

Sparhawk sighed. Bevier was an arch-conservative, and nothing would be gained by arguing with him. ‘We can sort all that out after the war, I think,’ he said. ‘It’s safe enough to ride on now. Let’s keep our eyes open, but I don’t think we’ll have to try to sneak through the countryside.’

They remounted and rode on up out of the pass onto a hilly plateau dotted here and there with groves of trees. The rain continued to fall, and the large, wet snowflakes mingled with it grew thicker as they continued eastward. They camped that night in a grove of spruce trees, and their fire, fed by damp twigs and branches, was small and sickly. They awoke the following morning to find the plateau covered with wet, slushy snow to a depth of perhaps three inches.