At least I am spared the visiting crowds, I thought, as I entered the trees. Maruman had turned in the direction of the Teknoguild caves, though there was no path or trail to them from this direction, nor was there any other path that I knew of. We could have travelled far more swiftly along the road, but the old cat continued to work his way deeper into the trees. I followed, pushing laboriously through sodden undergrowth and interwoven tree branches. It was slow work for I was badly hampered by all I carried. The stone sword was particularly irksome, for it seemed to catch every outstretched branch or curling bramble.

Maruman did not stop until we reached a small stony clearing, just as the sun rose, sending several spears of pink light through the mist. I was breathing hard and could feel sweat trickling down my back, but Maruman seemed utterly unaffected as he leapt up onto a lichen-dappled boulder and composed himself, coiling his tail neatly about his body. Assuming we were waiting for Gahltha, I went up to Maruman and leaned against the boulder, resting the stone sword on it to ease the weight. A short time later, the black horse emerged from a thick stand of trees, under which the mist and the night seemed to linger. I went to wrap my arms around his glossy neck before moving to rest my forehead against his, only now admitting my fear that Maruman meant to leave him behind.

‘Did you think I would let that happen?’ Gahltha asked, for all beasts have a touch of empathy, and none more than horses.

There was another movement at the edge of my vision and Darga entered the clearing. He looked huge and more ferociously ugly than ever. It was hard to believe he had once been the runt of a litter bred by the Herders as guard dogs.

‘Greetings ElspethInnle, Gahltha,’ he sent solemnly.

‘Greetings Darga,’ I replied, equally solemnly. ‘It has been long since I last saw you and far from here.’ It was not a question, but the forerunner to one.

‘Yes,’ he sent, his tone so sombre that I guessed he was thinking of the boy Jik, to whom he had been devoted, and after whose dreadful death he had vanished. I wondered if Darga blamed me for Jik’s death. It hurt me still to think of the boy I had rescued on a farseeker expedition, only to see him die in a firestorm in the White Valley. For a long time I had believed Darga dead, too, until the Agyllians had told me he lived, and that when I next saw him, it would be time for me to leave Obernewtyn to fulfil my quest.