‘It’s time for a decision, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said, looking out at the still-falling snow.

‘Oh?’

‘We can keep trying to follow this trail – which isn’t very well marked to begin with and will probably disappear altogether in about an hour – or we can strike out to the north. We could be on the Vileta road by noon.’

‘You have a certain preference, I gather?’

‘You could say that, yes. I don’t feature wandering around in strange country trying to find a trail that might not even lead to where we want to go.’

‘All right then, Kurik,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Since you’re so keen on this, we’ll do it your way. All I was really concerned about was getting through the border country where Martel was planning to leave ambushes in our path anyway.’

‘We’ll lose half a day,’ Ulath pointed out.

‘We’ll lose a lot more if we get turned around in these mountains,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘We don’t have any specific appointment with Azash. He’ll welcome us any time we get there.’

They rode north through the slushy snow with the thickly-falling flakes and the mist which accompanied them obscuring nearby hills. The wet snow plastered itself against them in sodden blankets, and their discomfort added to their gloom. Neither Ulath nor Tynian could lighten the mood with their few tentative efforts at humour, and after a while they rode in silence, each sunk in moody melancholy.

As Kurik had predicted, they reached the Vileta road about midday and turned east again. There was no evidence that the road had been travelled since the snow had begun to fall. Evening was undefined on that snow-clogged day, a gradual darkening of the pervading gloom. They took shelter for the night in an ancient, decrepit barn, and as they always did in hostile country, they took turns standing watch.

They bypassed Vileta late the following day. There was nothing in the town they wanted anyway, and there was no point in taking chances.

‘Deserted,’ Kurik said shortly as they rode past the town.

‘How do you know that?’ Kalten asked him.

‘No smoke. The weather’s chilly, and it’s still snowing. They’d have fires going.’

‘Oh.’

‘I wonder if they forgot anything when they left,’ Talen said, his eyes bright.

‘Never mind,’ Kurik told him flatly.

The snow abated somewhat the following day, and their mood noticeably brightened; but when they awoke the morning after that, it was snowing again, and their spirits plummeted once more.

‘Why are we doing this, Sparhawk?’ Kalten asked morosely towards the end of the day. ‘Why does it have to be us?’

‘Because we’re Church Knights.’

‘There are other Church Knights, you know. Haven’t we done enough already?’

‘Do you want to go back? I didn’t ask you – any of you – to come along, you know.’