“Excuse our excessive vigilance,” he said. “Life has taught us to be so, and thanks to that lesson we are alive. As you’ve correctly guessed,” he continued, “we’re the Vogelsang. We aren’t traitors, we haven’t been turned, we haven’t changed sides. We didn’t embezzle the money entrusted to us. We are ready to take action. We believe that you’ve come from Prokop and Neplach. We believe that you represent them, that you have their authorisation. That on their orders you are to lead us, because the time has come. Then lead us, Reynevan. We trust you. My name is Drosselbart.”

“Bisclavret.” The fair-haired man introduced himself.

“Rzehors.” The hand of the swarthy apprentice was as hard and rough as an unplaned board.

“Thanks for the horse in Ciepłowody.”

“Don’t mention it.” Rzehors’s eyes were even harder than his hand. “We wondered where you were headed on that horse.”

“Have you been following me?”

“We wanted to know where you were going,” repeated the fair-haired man, Bisclavret, like an echo. “From whom you were seeking help.”

“Those monks—”

“Those Świdnica Dominicans, spies of the Inquisition. They saw Rzehors, we didn’t want to take a risk… Especially because in the tavern there were two more we had our suspicions about. So—”

“So we did what had to be done,” Rzehors finished unemotionally, “and then we set off after you. Some of us thought you’d fly straight to Świdnica and seek protection under the Inquisitor’s wings… Olbram—”

“Exactly,” Reynevan interjected when the swarthy man broke off. “And where is that Master Olbram? My would-be murderer?”

Bisclavret was silent for a long time. Rzehors softly cleared his throat. A strange grimace appeared on Drosselbart’s narrow face.

“A difference of opinion arose concerning you,” the thin man finally said, “regarding what ought to be done. We didn’t agree with him, so—”

“So he went his way,” Rzehors interrupted quickly. “Now there are three of us. Let’s not stand here, night is falling. Let’s ride to Gdziemierz.”

“Why Gdziemierz?” Reynevan asked.

“We’ve checked Gdziemierz and your Silver Bell Inn,” said Drosselbart. “It’s an entirely decent and safe haven. We want to move there. Do you have any objections?”

“No.”

“Then to horse and let’s ride.”

Night had fallen, fortunately a bright one, for the moon was shining and the snow was sparkling and glinting.

“You didn’t trust me for a long time,” said Reynevan when they left the forest for the road. “You almost killed me. I’m Peterlin’s brother, and yet—”

“A time has come,” interrupted Drosselbart, “when a man will betray his brother and become Cain to him. A time has dawned when a son will betray his father, a mother her son and a wife her husband. Subjects will betray their king, soldiers their commander and priests their God. You were under suspicion, Reinmar. There were reasons.”

“What were they?”