‘Pure luck. I happened to be looking that way, and I saw the bushes move.’

Kalten was swearing when he rode back. ‘He got away,’ he reported.

‘I’m getting very tired of that fellow,’ Sparhawk said, pulling himself back into the saddle.

‘You think it might be the same one that took a shot at you back in Cimmura?’ Kalten asked him.

‘This isn’t Lamorkand, Kalten. There isn’t a crossbow standing in the corner of every kitchen in the kingdom.’ He thought about it for a moment. ‘Let’s not make an issue of this when we see Vanion again,’ he suggested. ‘I can sort of take care of myself, and he’s got enough on his mind already.’

‘I think it’s a mistake, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said dubiously, ‘but it’s your skin, so we’ll do it your way.’

The knights of the four orders were waiting in a well-concealed encampment a league or so to the south of Demos. Sparhawk and his friends were directed to the pavilion where their friends were conversing with Preceptor Abriel of the Cyrinic Knights, Preceptor Komier of the Genidians and Preceptor Darellon of the Alciones. ‘How did Princess Arissa take the news?’ Vanion asked.

‘She was moderately discontented about it all,’ Kalten smirked. ‘She wanted to make a speech, but since about all she really wanted to say was, “You can’t do this,” we cut her off.’

‘You did what?’ Vanion exclaimed.

‘Oh, not that way, My Lord Vanion,’ Kalten apologized. ‘Poor choice of words there perhaps.’

‘Say what you mean, Kalten,’ Vanion told him. ‘This is no time for misunderstandings.’

‘I wouldn’t actually behead the princess, Lord Vanion.’

I would,’ Ulath muttered.

‘May we see the Bhelliom?’ Komier asked Sparhawk.

Sparhawk looked at Sephrenia, and she nodded, although a bit dubiously.

Sparhawk reached inside his surcoat and removed the canvas pouch. He untied the drawstring then shook the Sapphire Rose out into his hand. It had been several days since he had felt even the faintest twinge of that shadowy, unnamed dread, but it returned once again as soon as his eyes touched the Sapphire Rose, and once again that shapeless shadow, even darker and larger now, flickered just beyond his field of vision.

‘Dear God,’ Preceptor Abriel gasped.

‘That’s it, all right,’ the Thalesian Komier grunted. ‘Get it out of sight, Sparhawk.’

‘But –’ Preceptor Darellon protested.

‘Did you want to keep your soul, Darellon?’ Komier asked bluntly. ‘If you do, don’t look at that thing for more than a few seconds.’

‘Put it away, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said.

‘Have we had any news about what Otha’s doing?’ Kalten asked as Sparhawk dropped Bhelliom back into its pouch.