“Because he knows you. He was with the hospital master and described you exactly. He asked if anyone looking like you was here. Fortunately, the hospital master is a decent fellow, and on top of that has no memory for faces, so he quite honestly denied seeing anybody who looks like you or that anyone like you was staying in the hospice. And when the black bird-man began to demand to be allowed into the hospital, the hospital master didn’t give his permission, citing ducal orders and the agreement guaranteeing the Hussites sanctuary. The fellow at first tried to frighten and threaten him, but when he noticed it was in vain, he left. He finally said he’d soon return with the duke’s permission, that he’d scour the hospital, and if he found you and it turned out the hospital master was lying, woe on him. Ha, Reynevan, seems to me that bird-man really could be a troublemaker. And even takes pleasure in it.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“Something tells me also that he’ll return with the duke’s permission.”

“You’re absolutely right. I must flee, Dorota. At once. Today.”

“I, too, must leave,” moaned Elencza. She was as white as a sheet. “I know that… person as well,” she stammered out. “I think he tracked me to Oława. He’s hunting me.”

“Impossible,” said Reynevan. “He’s hunting me! He has evil designs on me. I’m his target.”

“No. I am. I’m certain it’s me.”

Samson sat up in bed. He was quite lucid.

“I believe,” he said quite clearly, “that you are both mistaken.”

They left Oława before dusk, unnoticed. It transpired that Dorota Faber had numerous, reliable acquaintances among the right people. The hospital janitor—who made cow eyes at the red-headed harlot—supplied them with clothes and helped them leave the hospital in secret. A burly servant looked at her in the same way as he led them to the stable, helping Samson to walk. Because Samson required assistance. Reynevan wasn’t in the best way, either, as a matter of fact. His thoughts turned anxiously to the ride ahead of them.

As it transpired, Dorota and Elencza had given some thought to the matter. With the help of the janitor and the servant, they strapped them on to the saddles so they were able to keep reasonably upright as they rode and wouldn’t slide off or fall. It was none too comfortable, but Reynevan didn’t complain. He had reason to believe that capture by Birkart Grellenort would guarantee them even fewer comforts.