“He may have turned it into shit,” said Rymbaba, nodding. “There’s plenty of it over there, behind those huts.”

“The Devil may also have sunk the money in that pond,” added Wittram, pointing. “It’s no use to him.”

“Hmm…” muttered Buko. “He may have sunk it, you say? Perhaps then—”

“Not a chance.” Hubert guessed at once what Buko was thinking and about whom. “Not a chance! I’m not going in there for anything, sire.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Tassilo of Tresckow. “I don’t like the look of that lake, either. Urgh! Never mind five hundred, not even five hundred thousand grzywna would get me in there.”

Something living in the lake must have heard him, because as though in confirmation, the tarry-black water of the lake churned up, effervesced and boiled with a thousand huge bubbles. A foul, disgusting stench erupted and permeated the air.

“Let’s get out of here…” gasped Weyrach. “Let’s go…”

They left. In some haste. The boggy water squirted under their feet.

“The robbery of the tax collector,” declared Tassilo of Tresckow, “if Scharley is not mistaken, judging from the tracks, happened last night or at dawn today. So if we apply ourselves a little, we might catch up with the robbers.”

“But do we know which way they went?” grunted Woldan of Osiny. “Three paths lead away from the clearing. One towards the Bardo road. The second south, towards Kamieniec. And the third north, to Frankenstein. Before we set off after them, it would be worth knowing which of the three they took.”

“Indeed.” Notker of Weyrach cleared his throat pointedly, looked at Buko and gestured with his eyes at the white-haired magician sitting nearby and scrutinising Samson. “Indeed, that would be worth knowing. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but perhaps one could use sorcery to that end, eh, Buko?”

The mage certainly heard but didn’t even turn his head. Buko of Krossig ground out a curse.

“Master Huon of Sagar.”

“What?”

“We’re searching for a trail. Perhaps you could help us?”

“No,” replied the magician disdainfully. “I have no desire to.”

“You have no desire to? Then why did you sodding come with us?”

“For a breath of fresh air. And for some gaudium. I’ve had enough air but found no gaudium, so I’d gladly return home.”

“We missed the opportunity for plunder!”

“Well, that, if you don’t mind me saying, nihil ad me attinet.”

“I support and feed you from plunder!”

“You? Indeed?”

Buko flushed furiously but said nothing. Tassilo of Tresckow cleared his throat softly and leaned over slightly towards Weyrach.

“What’s the matter with that wizard?” he muttered. “Does he actually serve Buko of Krossig or not?”

“He does,” Weyrach muttered in reply, “but via Lady Krossig. Hush, don’t say anything. It’s a sensitive subject…”

“Is that the famous Huon of Sagar?” Reynevan asked Rymbaba in hushed tones.