“One thought,” said Reynevan, surprised by his own calm. “Just one thought. The Prague mages racked their brains for a year wondering how to help you, to enable you to return to your normal form, to your normal world, element, dimension, whatever it is. They failed. Now we’ve planned quite a risky expedition through Bohemia, heading somewhere near Jičín and Turnov, almost to the very Lusatian border, since we want to help you. After what I saw today, indeed, a certain thought is vexing me. Do you actually need any help at all with anything, Samson? Do you—who’s capable of changing the fate of tumbling dice—need the help of ordinary men who are capable of so little? Do you need our help? Does it matter to you?”

“I do,” the giant answered at once, without a second’s hesitation. “And it does.” A moment later, very softly and gently, he added, “But, Reynevan, you both know that it does.”

The girl—Marketa—sighed again.

“Very well.” Scharley stepped in. “What happened, happened. Know this, Samson. Your fatalism is alien to me. I believe it’s extremely easy to protect oneself from what is inevitable: just don’t do it. It’s similar with phenomena one cannot gaze on with indifference… just look away. All the more so since they represent the norm in this world rather than the exception. But it’s done, and I can’t see it being undone. We did a good deed, but we shall pay for it because one always pays for stupidity. However, before that happens, here’s the plan: we need to place the girl somewhere safe—”

“I’ll take her to Prague,” announced Samson. “To Mistress Pospíchalová.”

Marketa shifted ostentatiously in the saddle and growled like a cat. Samson wasn’t bothered by the display. Nor, it appeared, by her squeezing his wrist very hard.

“You can’t take her there by yourself,” said Scharley. “Too bad, we’ll all go. What about Tauler and Baťa? If the plan to go to Trosky is still on, Tauler might come in useful, since he claims he has a way of getting into the castle. We can’t reveal too much to the two of them, but the fact is that they were on our side in the gambling den and may have problems because of us. Huncleder might want revenge. They both serve in the Taborite army, and the Devil only knows which notable hejtmans have gambled—and lost—at Huncleder’s place…”

“No matter how notable a hejtman is,” promised Reynevan, “he can be taken down a peg or two. The same goes for Huncleder if he kicks up a fuss, for notable men have more notable men above them.”

“Flutek.”

“Exactly. Which is why you’ll all go to Prague. And I’ll continue on my way. To White Mountain.”

Chapter Seven