‘Sparhawk,’ Tynian said, pulling his horse in beside Faran, ‘I think I’ve finally figured it out.’

‘Figured what out?’

‘I think I know how Ulath decides whose turn it is to cook.’

‘Oh? I’d like to hear that.’

‘He just waits until somebody asks, that’s all. As soon as somebody asks whose turn it is, Ulath appoints him to do the cooking.’

Sparhawk thought back. ‘You could be right, you know,’ he agreed, ‘but what if nobody asks?’

‘Then Ulath has to do the cooking himself. It happened once as I recall.’

Sparhawk thought it over. ‘Why don’t you tell the others?’ he suggested. ‘I think Ulath has a lot of turns coming, don’t you?’

‘He does indeed, my friend,’ Tynian laughed.

It was about mid-afternoon when they reached a steep ridge of sharply-fractured black rock. There was a sort of a trail winding towards its top. When they were about half-way up, Talen called to Sparhawk from the rear. ‘Why don’t we stop here?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll sneak on ahead and take a look.’

‘It’s too dangerous,’ Sparhawk turned him down flatly.

‘Grow up, Sparhawk. That’s what I do. I’m a professional sneak. Nobody’s going to see me. I can guarantee that.’ The boy paused. ‘Besides,’ he added, ‘if there’s any kind of trouble, you’re going to need grown men wearing steel to help you. I wouldn’t be of much use in a fight, so I’m the only one you can really spare.’ He made a face. ‘I can’t believe I just said that. I want you all to promise to keep Aphrael away from me. I think she’s an unhealthy influence.’

‘Forget it,’ Sparhawk rejected the idea.

‘No chance, Sparhawk,’ the boy said impudently, rolling out of his saddle and hitting the ground running. ‘None of you can catch me.’

‘He’s long overdue for a good thrashing,’ Kurik growled as they watched the nimble boy scamper up the side of the ridge.

‘He’s right, though,’ Kalten said. ‘He’s the only one we can really afford to lose. Somewhere along the way he’s picked up a fairly wide streak of nobility. You should be proud of him, Kurik.’

‘Pride wouldn’t do me much good when it came time to try to explain to his mother why I let him get himself killed.’

Above them, Talen had disappeared almost as if the ground had opened and swallowed him. He emerged several minutes later from a fissure near the top of the ridge and ran back down the trail to rejoin them. ‘There’s a city out there,’ he reported. ‘It would almost have to be Zemoch, wouldn’t it?’

Sparhawk took his map out of his saddlebag. ‘How big is the city?’

‘About the size of Cimmura.’

‘It has to be Zemoch then. What does it look like?’