She threw her arms about his neck and smothered him with kisses. Her face, Sparhawk noticed, however, was wet with tears as she kissed the gruff squire.

‘You must return now,’ she told them, ‘for the night is nearly over. First, however –’

The kissing went on for quite some time. When the dark-haired little Goddess came to Talen, she brushed her lips lightly against his and then started towards Tynian. She stopped, a speculative look on her face, and then returned to the young thief and did a more complete job on him. When she moved on, she was smiling mysteriously.

‘And hath our gentle mistress resolved thy turmoil, Sir Knight?’ the snowy hind asked as the swan-like boat returned the two of them to the alabaster strand where the gaily-coloured pavilion awaited them.

‘I will know that with more certainty when mine eyes again open on the mundane world from which she summoned me, gentle creature,’ he replied. He found that he could not help himself. The flowery speech came to his lips unbidden. He sighed ruefully.

The note of the pipes was slightly discordant, a scolding sort of note.

‘An it please thee, dear Aphrael,’ he surrendered.

‘That’s much better, Sparhawk.’ The voice was no more than a whisper in his ears.

The small white deer led him back to the pavilion, and he laid him down again, a strange, bemused drowsiness coming over him.

‘Remember me,’ the hind said softly, nuzzling at his cheek.

‘I will,’ he promised, ‘and gladly, for thy sweet presence doth ease my troubled soul and bids me rest.’

And then again he slept.

He awoke in an ugly world of black sand and chill, blowing dust reeking of things long dead. His hair was clogged with the dust, and it abraded his skin beneath his clothing. What had really awakened him, however, was a small, tinking sound, the sound of someone firmly tapping on ringing steel with a small hammer.

Despite the turmoil of the previous day, he felt enormously refreshed and at peace with the world.

The ringing sound of the hammer stopped, and Kurik crossed their dusty camp site with something in his hands. He held it out to Sparhawk. ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Will this lock it in?’ What he was holding in his callused hands was a chain-mail pouch. ‘It’s about the best I can do for now, My Lord. I don’t have too much steel to work with.’

Sparhawk took the pouch and looked at his squire. ‘You too?’ he asked. ‘You had a dream too?’

Kurik nodded. ‘I talked with Sephrenia about it,’ he said. ‘We all had the same dream – it wasn’t exactly a dream, though. She tried to explain it to me, but she lost me.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry, Sparhawk. I doubted you. Everything seemed so futile and hopeless.’