She told them, “If he becomes a problem you can say you told me so while you’re roasting him. Sorcerer. Come along. I’ll show you where to work.” Which would be in the suite Varthlokkur used when he resided in Castle Krief. “You’ll get one servant. There’ll be no touching. Understand?”

“I gather that fierce temptation will be set so as to test me.”

“You don’t want to fail.”

The sorcerer adopted his most blank expression.

“Let me know when you’re ready to start.”

“How soon do you need me?”

“Today, if you can.”

The sorcerer sighed and strove to keep up.

SIX: YEAR 1017 AFE
KING WITHOUT A THRONE

The fugitive walked the plain alone, striding purposefully. The caravan job had not lasted. Despite peace looming there was little trade. No caravans were headed this way.

He glanced to his right. The riders still paced him. Occupying his attention while others closed in? The plains tribes were not populous but were the reason caravans needed guards. They would steal anything from anyone. Nobody was too poor not to be robbed.

He sensed no other presence, though. They must be keeping track till they could summon help.

There were two of them. They were cautious. They did not like the odds.

They must suspect that he was more dangerous than he looked.

He strode on, sling in hand in case he kicked up a hare or game bird. If those two tried nothing sooner he would visit them after dark.

He could use a good plains pony.

A grouse flushed. He did not react fast enough. His bullet fell short. He produced another stone and walked on. His homeland was only days away. He should decide where to go first.

He had to arrive as a wanderer, not as himself. He would go where rootless men gathered. There he could discover what he needed to know to cope with today’s kingdom.

The land grew more arid, the grass shorter and scruffier, soon revealing patches of dun earth. The grass sea was about to give way to mild desert. Not far ahead, though not yet visible, lay mountains which masked the heart of Hammad al Nakir.

The riders had to make a decision soon. Tomorrow he would reach country where they would not be welcome—though they were not likely to be noticed. He considered what he would do in their position.

He would move in the middle of the night.

He moved as soon as it was dark. There was no moon. Pitfalls seemed to multiply.

Despite all, he found the other camp before the riders left to find him. And rediscovered the quality of mercy.

They were boys, probably brothers, the eldest no more than fifteen. They were trying to work up their courage. Neither really wanted to do anything but neither wanted the other to think he was a coward.