A warm, humid breeze came off the ocean. Rudiger soaked it in, feeling it brush through his hair and under his arms. With his eyes closed, he could imagine himself back home in Fisvin. The smell of the sea, the taste of salt in the air. It felt just like home. With his eyes open and only looking out across the water, it looked like home, too. Small waves lapped up on the shoreline, falling well short of where they had been just a few minutes earlier (the tide’s quickness was not quite like home, but he could ignore that). Farther out, the silhouettes of fishing vessels and other ships plied the sea.

Looking in the other direction ruined the image of home, however, so for the moment, he didn’t bother. It was simply nice to enjoy the view of the sea and, most importantly, the warm weather.

Borisin snorted, and shifted his feet about. Are we just going to stand here? I could do that on the ship. I need exercise.

Rudiger sighed. “I’m just taking a moment to enjoy the view.”

What view?

“The sea. The water.”

Any water I can’t drink isn’t worth looking at.

“I can’t drink it, either,” Rudiger said. “But there are lots of things worth looking—”

Good. Then there’s no point sticking around here. The stallion turned and began walking along the beach. Rudiger tried to turn him back to face the water, but Borisin had never been a horse who obeyed his rider when he decided he didn’t want to.

Rudiger sighed and let him be. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t still look at the ocean. All he had to do was turn his head a bit. Anyway, he was starting to get tired of it himself. Lovely views were all well and good, but there was a limit to how long he could sit still and look at them.

It had been just over three weeks since they had departed Arnor City, booking passage on a merchant vessel destined eventually for Lockanith. Blessed with good weather, the journey had been swift and had brought them here to Cilling much more quickly than anyone had anticipated. While the ship’s owner haggled and sold his goods, Rudiger, Jorvan, and Zandrue had taken the opportunity to stretch their legs a bit. More particularly, the horses had been eager to get out of their confined space in the hold—especially Borisin.

Rudiger rode Borisin by a group of warehouses along the shore. A few of the workers there glanced at their passing and then went back to their jobs. One even called out, “Nice horse!” Other than that, the stretch north of Cilling was bare of anything. The beach was smooth and sandy, with only a rare stone or rock to break the monotony of its appearance. To their left, the water continued to recede farther away; to their right lay long grasses, then the main road, and then stretches of farmland.

Rudiger rode for an hour or so, alternating between a trot, canter, and short gallops, before turning around and heading back towards the town. By this point, Borisin was actually in a good mood, and even seemed less disdainful of the sea. Rudiger, too, was feeling exhilarated from the open air. While the ocean could be nice to look at, being cooped up on a cramped ship was not his idea of a pleasant experience, and he had to go back to it to finish the journey to Lockanith. So, for the moment, he just lost himself in the ride, and the ship journey became, at least temporarily, a distant memory.

At the warehouses, the same man who had called out before waved and approached. “D’you mind if I get a look at yer horse?” he asked, reaching out to Borisin as Rudiger rode slowly up. He was a short, muscular Eloorin wearing a dirty workman’s tunic and breeches. Sweat glistened on his forehead and dripped from the ends of his stringy hair. His face was broad and flat, and his left eyelid drooped. He smiled at Rudiger, revealing teeth that were yellow and rotting.

Borisin snapped at the man, who snatched his hand away. I don’t like this man. He smells shifty.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rudiger asked.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” the man said. “I meant jus’ what I said. I meant no offence. I know horses and just thought I’d like a look at yours. But I’ll jus’ be on my way then. That’s a nice sword you got, too.” The man turned around and withdrew back towards the warehouses.

“Sorry about that,” Rudiger called after him. “Borisin just isn’t very good around strangers.” When the man didn’t reply, he rode on back towards the city. “What was that all about?”

Exactly what I said. He smelled shifty.

“How the hell does someone smell shifty?”

My sense of smell is better than yours. You wouldn’t understand.

“Yeah…well…a dog’s sense of smell is even better than yours!” Rudiger wasn’t entirely sure just what that proved. He was well aware that horses had better smell than humans, and Borisin usually had a pretty good sense about these things, but he hated letting the horse get the last word. Still, it made him wonder just what the man had been up to. Probably nothing worth worrying about.

Cilling had to be the ugliest town Rudiger had ever seen. Tight and cramped, dirty and smelly, and dark. The upper storeys of buildings jutted out over the streets, leaving little space between them and the buildings on the opposite side, and blocking most sunlight from falling on the street itself. The unpaved streets were just churned-up mud—well, that’s the way Rudiger liked to think of it; he had no illusions that mud was only one of the components of the gook people had to walk through. Only a fool would walk or ride along the thin area between the buildings, not just because of what might be on the ground, but also what might come from above; at any moment, someone in a building above might choose to dump their refuse. So, it was necessary to stay in the shadowy areas under the buildings.

Luckily, coming up the beach, Rudiger could avoid the main part of town and go straight to the market-docks, the only area of the town that was open to the sky. The only downside here was the streets were so wet and muddy—real mud this time, or at least Rudiger hoped it was real mud—that it was possible to actually sink into it. Upon first stepping off the quay at their arrival, his boots had quickly filled up. There was a good reason the sailors and people of the town wore knee-high boots.

By lucky chance, Zandrue was leading Lucinda up ahead. They were trudging along through the muck. Zandrue had managed to acquire a pair of knee-high boots. “Hey!” she exclaimed as he rode up beside her.

“You should ride,” he said. “It’s easier.”

For you, maybe, Borisin said. But nobody thinks of the horses, do they?

“My weight was making her sink so low, she couldn’t move,” Zandrue replied. “Borisin’s a lot stronger than she is, so you probably haven’t experienced the problem. Of course, if you were truly valiant, you’d let me ride Borisin while you led Lucinda.” She flashed him a smile.

Rudiger groaned and dismounted. “Never let it be said I’m not valiant.”

With a laugh, Zandrue mounted. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Why is it you can flirt with Zandrue, but I can’t with Lucinda?

“Because we don’t need…” Rudiger stopped and switched to silent communication. We don’t need any pregnant mares.

We don’t need any pregnant Zandrues either.

Yeah, well...whatever...

“So, what do you think of our beloved Queen’s home town?” Zandrue asked.

“I think,” Rudiger began and then groaned as his latest step resulted in one boot filling with mud. How is it he lost all sense whenever she smiled at him?

Beats me, Borisin said. She’s got nothing on Lucinda.

Rudiger shook his head.

“You okay?” Zandrue asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, pressing on. “I think it’s hard to believe the Queen ever lived here.”

Zandrue smirked. “That’s because she didn’t. Not really. She’s technically from Cilling, but she’s probably never been in it except to pass through it in a palanquin. She actually lived there.” Zandrue pointed to the south, where the round towers of Oceanwatch with their conical caps could just be seen in the distance. The massive castle was one of the few such buildings still in use in Arnor.

“That, I believe,” Rudiger remarked. “If I lived in a castle, I wouldn’t want to leave it either.”

Zandrue shrugged. “I prefer palaces. They look nicer. And richer. They just scream, ‘I have money.’ Castles are dull, grey, cold, and boring. Oh, did I mention dull? You may need to be rich to build a castle, but they don’t look rich.”

“I suppose so,” Rudiger said. “Still, you have to admire their defensive capabilities.”

“Really? I suppose they’re good against human armies. But what good are big walls against an army of Volgs that can just fly over them?”

“I suppose, but how often do we have to worry about armies of Volgs?”

“Hopefully never.”

“Exactly.”

The docks were noisy and busy. They had to move slowly between bare-chested sailors carrying crates and barrels, and horses attempting to pull wagons through the mud. In one area, a group of men chased after a bunch of chickens that had escaped. At another spot, three off-duty drunken sailors clanged jugs of rum together and sang terribly off-key—so badly, Rudiger couldn’t even tell what song they were singing, if indeed they were all singing the same thing.

By the time he and Zandrue reached the quay, both Rudiger’s boots were filled with mud again. He could even hear them sloshing over the general din as he stepped onto the wooden platform. With a sigh, he sat down on the edge, pulled off his boots and emptied them as best he could. An old man, covered in mud himself, laughed toothlessly at him.

His boots were still wet and slippery when he put them back on, but he would just have to live with it. He stood up and turned back to Zandrue. She waited patiently for him to help her down. Rudiger knew full well she didn’t need any assistance, but he gave it to her anyway. She slid down off Borisin very close to him—pressed up against him. His heart started beating faster. She looked up at him, grinning, a sparkle in her blue eyes. His first urge was to put his arms around her, lean over, and kiss her, but he didn’t do it. He was much too dirty, covered in both wet and dried mud. Still, she wasn’t much cleaner. It could hardly make a difference. His ears barely registered the sound of sailors whistling in support. Perhaps...

Then Borisin’s snout pushed between the two of them. Zandrue backed away, fanning her hand against the stench of the horse’s breath. She tried to look angry, but soon burst into laughter.

“I don’t know,” Rudiger said to his horse. “I ought to…”

Is there a problem? Borisin asked. Wasn’t that some sort of huddled conference on what to do next? I didn’t want to miss anything.

“I think you know full well...” Rudiger trailed off. Zandrue had stopped laughing, her face now serious and her eyes looking past him down the quay. She pointed and he looked.

At first, he couldn’t see anything unusual, but as some cattle moved out of the way and down one of the long piers extending from the quay, he saw what she was indicating. A group of five men in pinkish plate and mail stood talking amongst themselves. They each wore a bright red cape, and carried a red shield bearing a broadsword sigil.

“Ah, hell,” Rudiger muttered.

“Let’s just head towards the Flying Fish,” Zandrue said.

“Can’t be looking for us,” Rudiger said. “Probably emissaries or something. I met a kid at the Royal Palace who said something about expanding beyond Plavin-Tyl. Wanted me to join them.”

Zandrue smirked. “Nevertheless, let’s be on the safe side.” She took Lucinda’s reins from him and headed onto the pier their ship was docked at.

Rudiger took another look at the five Red Knights. If the Bloods were looking for them, they certainly hadn’t noticed them yet. He nodded to Borisin and followed Zandrue. “Just what the country doesn’t need. Bloods expanding out of Plavin-Tyl.”

“They’re not likely to get warm welcomes everywhere,” Zandrue replied. “Still, some places will probably welcome them. I don’t know enough about Lord Samma Friaz to predict what he’ll do, but it hardly matters. We’re not staying in this province long enough to find out. I hope.”

“Where’s Jorvan, by the way?” Rudiger asked. If the Bloods were looking for them, he hoped Jorvan would be all right.

“He wanted to look around a little bit while he was here. All part of his quest to see all of Arnor. He should be fine. In the unlikely event those Bloods are after us—and how they’d know to look for us here, I’ve no idea—but in the unlikely event they are, there’s still no reason to believe they’d be looking for Jorvan. They were only after you, me, and Felitïa back in Tyl.”

That was true. Still, their enemies had a way of finding them, no matter where they were or who they were travelling with. And he was quite certain Zandrue was aware of that, no matter what she was saying now. However, he was probably being paranoid. They were surely only emissaries.

The pier was long—all the piers were, due to how far out the tide moved—and the Flying Fish was near the far end of it, past several other ships. They walked the distance casually, not wanting to draw attention to themselves, but it wasn’t long before the Bloods were out of sight, blocked from view by the numerous other people, animals, and crates moving back and forth along the pier.

Eventually, they approached the place where the Flying Fish was berthed. The first mate stood on the pier, signing up three new sailors, all Eloorin. One was familiar, broad and muscular, with stringy hair, a flat face and a drooping eyelid. The man from earlier?

Before Rudiger could think any more of it, a man carrying two thick, heavy rolls of cloth bumped into him. “Terribly sorry, mate.” The local Friaz lilt very prominent in the man’s voice. The right side of his face was stretched and misshapen, the ear completely gone.

“No prob—” Rudiger began.

Shifty smell, Borisin said.

Steel glinted at the edge of Rudiger’s vision. “Zandrue, look out!” Everything was a blur after that. One of the thick rolls of cloth thudded into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. The man then hit him with the other, knocking him back perilously close to the edge of the pier.

Cries rang out around him. As he tried to reach for Slay, three men rushed him, trying to throw him into the water below. They were strong men, and together maybe even a match for his own strength. He could feel the edge of the platform beneath the soles of his boots, and struggled to push back the other way. He was wearing his armour; a fall could mean death.

Amidst the yells, and bleating of goats and other animals, Borisin’s whinny rose above it all, as the horse lashed out again and again with his powerful hind legs, sending several men flying, a few right off the pier. The men holding Rudiger were distracted momentarily, and he tried to push them aside. With a cry, one of them slipped and fell into the water below. Then the other two were back on him. He grabbed one man’s face and pushed him back, and a step with his right foot encountered nothing solid beneath it.

Everything slowed down at that moment. As he fell backwards, he grabbed at the other man, tried to use him as something to hold onto. With a sneer, the man tore at Rudiger’s wrists. Rudiger’s left foot slipped from the edge of the pier. The man cried out and fell with him.

Rudiger heard the splash more than he felt it. It was like a boom in his ears, and then the water was all around him. Instinctively, he tried to kick out, tried to push himself back up to the surface. He grabbed at his mail, desperately tried to pull it off before he drowned in it.

There was another, more distant thud of water, and a dark shape passed in front of his vision. Blurry shapes like long legs beat the water in front of him. Then something bit his arm and began to pull up. Hold tight, Borisin said. As they broke the surface, Rudiger gasped for air.

“Another man overboard!” a cry rang out.

Rudiger wrapped his free arm around Borisin’s neck to help keep his head above water. Careful, the horse said, don’t pull my head down, or we both drown.

“Get a rope out to him! Quickly now!”

“Thanks pal,” Rudiger gasped.

When the end of a rope appeared in the water near them, Borisin swam closer to it, and Rudiger grabbed hold. A short while later, he was pulled up onto the deck of a fishing boat. It had taken several men to get him there.

“You all right, mate?” one asked.

Another indicated his mail and said, “Not wise to be wearin’ that stuff, mate.”

Still another said, “You see that? The bloody horse leapt right in the water and pulled him up!”

“Borisin,” Rudiger said. “My horse. You’ve got to get him out of there.”

“Easier said than done, mate, but we’ll try.”

It’s all right, Borisin said. I’m not breaking all my legs in one of their nets. I’ll swim to shore.

“Zandrue,” Rudiger muttered. “Excuse me.” He pushed aside the men surrounding him and rushed to the pier side of the deck. Most of the area by the Flying Fish was clear, but there were a few people still about, most with confused or shocked expressions on their faces. The broad, muscular man with the stringy hair had hold of Lucinda’s reins and was patting her on the nose. Near the mare’s feet were the trampled bodies of the first mate and the other two sailors who had been with him. The dagger protruding from the first mate’s chest, however, showed that he had died before being trampled.

The broad Eloorin began leading Lucinda away from the Flying Fish and back down the pier. He was definitely the man from the warehouses, but how he’d gotten here ahead of them, Rudiger had no idea. Farther down the pier, local watchmen were moving in this direction. The Red Knights from earlier were coming, too. There was no sign of Zandrue.

Rudiger drew Slay and made for the pier. “Hey, mate! What’re ya doin’?” one of the sailors cried out. A couple others moved briefly to stop him, but backed away at the determined look on his face.

Once he was back on the pier, he called out to the broad Eloorin. “Hey! That’s not your horse!”

Then the man was in front of him, slashing with a dagger. The blade scraped across the links of Rudiger’s mail, but didn’t cut through. Surprised, Rudiger swung down with Slay, but the man ducked out of the way with a speed and agility Rudiger would never have expected from someone so bulky. The man lunged in with the dagger. Rudiger side-stepped him and brought round Slay again. Once again, the man zipped out of the way with remarkable speed.

Rudiger lunged at the man, but in another eye-blink, the broad Eloorin was a good twenty yards farther down the pier. Well, that answered how he’d gotten here so fast. A watchman tried to remonstrate with him, but the man was gone in a flash.

Rudiger walked over to Lucinda and took her reins. “He may have got away, but at least he didn’t get you.” He half expected a witty reply as Borisin would have done, but the mare just stared ahead, not comprehending what he was saying.

He looked around. Still no sign of Zandrue. Where was she?

The watchmen were almost to him now. The situation shouldn’t be too difficult to explain. After all, there were loads of witnesses about to corroborate his side of the story. “I hope Zandrue’s okay,” he said to Lucinda. “They might have pushed her in the water, I suppose. If they did, she can swim, I’m sure. Maybe she was rescued by one of these other ships even. Maybe she’s waiting for us on the Flying Fish right now. Maybe—”

There was a deafening boom. A rush of hot air sent Rudiger sprawling to the deck, and Lucinda reeling in fright. Rudiger looked up. The Flying Fish was in flames, its hull cracked open like a shell. All along this portion of the pier, burning bits of wood, cloth, and rope lay about. Some had started small fires on other ships. The sailors of those ships were dashing about, desperately trying to put the fires out. On board the Flying Fish, the only sailors he could see were charred and bloody corpses.

“Dear gods.” Could one of those corpses have been Zandrue? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“You there!”

Rudiger reached groggily for Slay, which had landed a few feet in front of him, but a metal boot stepped between him and the sword. The man to whom the boot belonged was one of the Red Knights; he reached a hand down to Rudiger. “You all right?” Warily, Rudiger accepted the hand and let the Blood help him to his feet. Standing about six and a half feet, only a couple inches shorter than Rudiger, the Knight was a wide-eyed Folith man—no, boy was a more apt description—with an unblemished face and a broad grin. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. He wiped some of the dirt and grime off Rudiger. “Nasty business.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Rudiger replied. He pointed at Slay. “Uh, do you mind? My sword?”

“Of course.” The boy bent down and picked up the greatsword, taking a moment to admire it. “Nice weapon!” He tested the balance and almost dropped it. “Heavy though!” The boy laughed. Rudiger grimaced. Last thing he needed was for this kid to accidentally drop Slay off the pier.

“Right, what’s going on here?” The question came from a city watchman striding over to them. Behind him, another one of the watch was leading Lucinda away, and two others were questioning sailors. The other Red Knights were also questioning witnesses.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Rudiger answered, snatching his sword from the boy Blood.

“Several people have already placed you as being one of the ones in the centre of this whole mess,” the watchman said. He was a Folith of a much more mature age than the Blood. His dark hair and beard were streaked with grey and there was a weariness in his eyes that spoke of having been through too many situations like this in the past. His voice had less of the lilt than most of the locals—perhaps because it was a very deep voice—but it was still present.

“That’s because I was attacked,” Rudiger answered. “Several people tried to kill me and my friend.”

“Where is this friend of yours now?” the watchman asked.

Rudiger shook his head. “Wish I knew. Haven’t seen her since we were attacked. They threw me off the pier; might have done the same to her. Or she might have...”

“Yes?” the watchman pressed.

“She might have been on the ship.”

“The one that exploded, you mean?”

Rudiger nodded.

The watchman scratched his beard. “I take it you weren’t a crewmember on the ship.”

“Passenger. Bound for Lockanith.”

“And why do you think these people attacked you?”

Rudiger shrugged. “I’d seen the fast one before. The one who ran off. He was interested in my horse. They might have been trying to steal him.” He didn’t really believe that, but he doubted the watchman would believe the real explanation.

“So they destroyed the ship to get to your horse,” the watchman said.

Rudiger shrugged again. “I…I really don’t know.”

“And what about you?” the watchman asked, turning to the young Blood.

“Sir Alaan Geravan of the Red Knights at your service!”

The watchman shook his head and shrugged with one arm. “That supposed to mean anything to me, boy?”

“We’re a new organisation, sir,” the boy replied. “From Plavin-Tyl. I’m part of an emissary group come to see Lord Samma about expansion into Friaz. We stand for the old ways of chivalry and—”

“Spare me the speeches, boy. I’m not interested in your politics. What’s your involvement with this mess?”

“We saw the commotion from the quay and came to assist.”

The watchman shook his head. “Well, here’s some advice for both of you. One, the watch doesn’t need the help of emissary groups from other provinces. Two, you wander around these docks dressed like that, carrying those blatant weapons, you’re asking for trouble. The armour’ll kill you if you end up in the water, and the swords will just attract unwanted attention. Now then—”

“Captain!” another watchmen called out. Two other watchmen by him were holding a short Eloorin man. “We may have one of the perpetrators!” Rudiger didn’t recognise the man they were holding, but he hadn’t really gotten a good look at most of his attackers anyway.

“I’ll be right there!” the captain said. He looked at Sir Alaan. “All right, young man, let’s put your chivalry to the test. Your word you won’t leave this pier. I’m not done talking to either of you.”

“You have my word,” the boy replied.

“Good,” the captain said. He indicated Rudiger. “See that he doesn’t leave either.”

“You have my word on that, as well,” the boy said.

The captain’s expression said nothing of whether he believed the boy or not, but he was obviously satisfied that they wouldn’t be able to get anywhere, since he turned away from them and headed over to where they were holding the alleged perpetrator.

Rudiger sighed. “Didn’t even ask me for my word.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” the young Blood said. “It seems pretty clear that you were the victim in this. They probably just need to ask you a few more questions, get you to identify a few people. Those sorts of things. Then you’ll be free to go.”

“I suppose,” Rudiger said. “I’m just worried about my friend.”

The boy smiled at him. “Don’t worry. If she’s alive, she’ll show up, I’m sure.” He grimaced. “I mean... Sorry to suggest that she might be dead, but...well...if she was on that ship when it blew...”

Rudiger nodded.

“So, are you good with that thing?” The boy tapped Slay’s long blade.

“I try to be,” Rudiger replied.

“Great! You know, we’re always on the lookout for new recruits. If you’re interested…”

Rudiger groaned.

“There a problem?” Alaan asked.

“I’ve heard the spiel before. You’re not the first Red Knight I’ve met.”

“Really? That’s great then! You know all about us. Somebody as big and strong as you would be a great asset to us. I can let my commander know that you’re interested.”

Rudiger was about to interject that he wasn’t interested when the boy’s commander came over to them. At least, Rudiger presumed it was the boy’s commander, as the man had a definite commanding air to him. He was slightly shorter than the boy, but was at least twenty years his elder. He had long, light brown hair that was just beginning to recede and formed a very sharp widow’s peak on his forehead. His face had a harshness to it that, when combined with the dirt and grime that covered everything in this blasted city, made him just plain intimidating. He strode up to them, carrying his helmet under one arm and his shield on the other, and somehow managed to look even more intimidating. “Alaan.”

The boy snapped to attention. “Commander!”

“What’s up here?”

“This man was one of the ones attacked, sir,” Alaan responded. “He’s been expressing interest in our order.”

“Has he now?” the commander said. Rudiger wanted to respond that he hadn’t been, but the commander handed his helmet to Alaan and held out his hand to Rudiger. “I am Sir Hardimon Mesters of the Red Knights. A pleasure to meet you, sir. You are?”

Was it wise to give out his name? Rudiger wondered. Unfortunately, he couldn’t really think of another name on the spot, and if he didn’t say something, that would be sure to arouse suspicion. “Rudiger Fonivan.” He shifted the weight of Slay to his left hand and grasped the commander’s hand. As he did so, the commander’s eyes fell on the sword, and what started as a vigorous handshake became lacklustre.

“Your sword, sir,” the Blood said. “Might I inquire where you got it?”

“Exquisite, isn’t it, sir?” Alaan said. “I was commenting on it, myself.” The boy didn’t seem to have noticed the change in his commander’s tone.

Hell, Rudiger thought. Just when he’d thought that maybe these Bloods didn’t know anything about him! This was likely to turn into Tyl all over again. “Family heirloom,” Rudiger said.

“May I see it?” Sir Hardimon asked.

“I’d rather it stayed with me,” Rudiger replied, and gripped Slay securely with both hands. He readied himself to flip the sword point-up if he needed.

“Oh, don’t worry, Rudiger,” Alaan said. “Sir Hardimon is an expert swordsman. He won’t be as clumsy with it as I was.”

“Enough, Alaan,” Hardimon said. “This man is a wanted felon. Hand over your sword, sir, and submit to Lady Plavin’s justice.”

The boy was clearly shocked. “Felon? Are you sure, sir?”

“Of course I’m sure. The sword leaves little doubt and his name leaves none at all. He’s wanted for the murder of several Red Knights, amongst other things.” Sir Hardimon took back his helmet, slipped it onto his head ,and drew his own sword. “Submit, sir, or I’ll have your head.”

Rudiger flipped Slay around and took a defensive stance. “Look, I’m not looking for trouble. Those charges are false.”

“Then submit,” the Blood said. “If you are innocent, that will be determined at your trial. You have my word you will be treated honourably.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t had much reason to trust the word of a Blood.”

Alaan had drawn his sword now. “Come on, Rudiger. Don’t make us do this.”

“What the hell’s going on over here?” The watch captain stormed back over to them, his hand on the hilt of his own sword, although he had not yet drawn the weapon.

“This man is a wanted fugitive,” Sir Hardimon said. “Lady Plavin has ordered his capture, dead or alive.”

“This is Friaz,” the watch captain said, “not Plavin-Tyl. Lord Samma rules here. I still need to question this man about what happened here today.”

Sir Hardimon lowered his sword. “Of course. We won’t stand in the way of your duty. We simply request the right to take him into custody when you’re finished with him.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” the watch captain said. “Why don’t you tell me exactly who you are to begin with? And spare me any political speeches! What is the man accused of?”

“Alaan, watch him,” the older Blood said. The younger nodded briskly.

While Sir Hardimon and the watch captain talked, Rudiger looked around, hoping for an avenue of escape. The other three Bloods were moving in his direction. If they got here, escape would be even less likely. Luckily, they were still some distance down the pier. He figured he had about a minute. Rudiger wasn’t worried about being able to get past Sir Alaan, but if he was drawn into a fight with either or both of Sir Hardimon and the watch captain, he doubted he could get past them fast enough. Still, he might be able to slip by before they could do anything. But where would he go? It was beginning to look as if the only way out was back into the water, where he would just sink like a stone. And taking his armour off would definitely draw attention.

Then he noticed Lucinda. The watchman who had been leading her away hadn’t gone far, and was talking with another watchman. His hands were only very lightly on the reins, and neither he nor his companion were paying any attention to the horse at all.

“I’m innocent, you know,” Rudiger said.

“Like Sir Hardimon said, you’ll have a chance—”

Rudiger didn’t give him a chance to finish. He slammed into the boy, using his shoulder to bull rush him aside. The boy was completely unprepared and toppled over. He cried out as he fell onto the pier, though. As Sir Hardimon spun round, his sword wheeling out, Rudiger ran for Lucinda.

“Stop him!” Hardimon cried.

The two watchmen by the horse looked up just as Rudiger barrelled into them. One of them, a young Eloorin no older than Sir Alaan, fumbled for his sword, but Rudiger’s elbow impacted with the side of his face before he could get to it. The boy reeled, spitting teeth out as he fell, and collided with his companion.

“Sorry about that!” Rudiger cried. Poor kid didn’t deserve to lose teeth at so young an age. He sheathed Slay on his back, grabbed Lucinda’s reins, and hopped onto her back. The mare was startled, but she was well-trained and quickly acquiesced to his control.

The Bloods were almost on him; all of them had swords drawn. Rudiger took a deep breath and kicked Lucinda into motion. She wasn’t trained for combat, wasn’t trained to charge heavily armed men. Would she do it? If she didn’t, he was dead. As she increased her speed to a gallop, Rudiger could tell she wasn’t used to his armoured weight. Surely, she could manage it for a time, though.

Ahead, the Bloods were holding their ground. Rudiger’s instinct was to draw his sword. If Lucinda had been Borisin, he could have trusted the charge to him, and wielded the two-hander without worry. But not on Lucinda. The Bloods raised their swords. “Go!” Rudiger urged the horse. She went.

Two of the Bloods dived out of the way at the last moment. The third foolishly held his ground and swung at the galloping horse. Lucinda reared in fright to get away from the flashing metal. The blade passed mere inches from cutting into her front legs. Then those legs came back down on the Blood’s chest, knocking him to the pier. Rudiger heard the thud of the metal hitting wood, almost felt Lucinda’s hooves trample over that metal.

Then they were past. People along the pier dived out of the way as they galloped by. When they reached the quay, Rudiger slowed the mare to a trot and then a walk. There was no way she would be able to manage a gallop through the thick mud. He doubted even Borisin could do that. Besides, the people here hopefully had no reason to go after him, and he didn’t want to give them a reason by drawing their attention. The Bloods and watchmen on the pier had a quarter mile or so to walk back. It would take them some time to catch up.

It quickly became clear that Lucinda didn’t even like walking through the mud with him on her back, so he dismounted and led her on foot, his boots soon filling with mud again. Eventually, he made it out of the muddy market-dock and onto drier land.

He needed to find Zandrue. If she was still alive. He also needed to find Jorvan. And Borisin. “Where do I start?” he asked Lucinda, but the horse ignored him. Jorvan wouldn’t know anything had happened and would head for the Flying Fish once he was finished looking around. Rudiger needed to get to him before he did that. Zandrue and Borisin would know to stay out of sight, so he had to trust them to themselves for now. Luckily, he figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to find an Isyar in a town full of humans. Look for the crowds, he thought. Nobody here was likely to have ever seen an Isyar before. There would be people flocking around him.

Sure enough, he found Jorvan surrounded by a throng of onlookers of all sizes and ages. Grown men and women lifted children on their backs so that the youngsters could see the Isyar over the crowd. Other people pushed and shoved to get to the front for a chance to see, and maybe even touch him.

“I saw an Isyar once before,” an elderly man boasted. “I was just a young’un then. He came down from the sky and hovered over me and my friends and poured a magical blessing on us. He promised us a long and fulfilling life. And that’s why I’m still alive today when most people in my generation are long gone.” Rudiger chuckled, shaking his head. He was pretty certain Isyar were not capable of hovering.

Other people cried out to Jorvan, asking him to bless them and their families. Beseeching him to give them a good harvest for the year. Calling upon him to protect them from goblins and other monsters. One word that Rudiger heard frequently was angel. Rudiger had never really thought about it before, but it was true that Isyar looked a lot like angels. They were like humans with wings, which was really all that angels were. Although every picture of angels Rudiger had ever seen always depicted them with feathered wings, and an Isyar’s wings weren’t. Other than that though...

The look on Jorvan’s face when Rudiger finally pushed through the crowds to him was utterly flabbergasted. He tried to smile at the people and speak politely to them as he led his nervous horse slowly forward. It was very clear that he was not at all comfortable with the people clutching at him. His eyes met Rudiger’s with a pleading look. Rudiger had no idea what to do. Then an idea hit him.

“All right!” he cried as loud as he could. He couldn’t get loud enough to be heard over the whole crowd, but those nearby could hear. “That’s enough for today! The Isyar can only handle so many requests at once. You need to give him some space to fulfil them! He’ll be back again tomorrow to listen to further pleas!”

A few people actually listened. However, the majority kept pushing to get at Jorvan. “I must see him!” someone cried. “I must touch him!” another cried. “He must heal my child!” from yet another.

“Enough!” Rudiger screamed. “I am the Isyar’s watcher! Let him pass! He will hear more of you tomorrow!” He sighed. It wasn’t working.

Just then, Jorvan spread his wings, accidentally batting a few people in the process. Luckily, those hit seemed to think it some sort of blessing. Jorvan began to move his hands about in a circular pattern, and a funnel of air began to swirl around him, drawing awed gasps from the crowd as Jorvan rose a couple feet into the air and floated there.

Okay, so maybe Isyar could hover.

Jorvan said something, but his voice was too soft to be heard.

“Quiet!” Rudiger cried. “The Isyar speaks!”

Remarkably, people listened. The people nearest scolded those behind to be quiet, and the effect cascaded out. Within moments, the street was silent.

“I hear you,” Jorvan said. “I ask you listen to my...watcher and wait for...for...I return tomorrow.”

It was clear that not everyone could hear him, so Rudiger repeated what he’d said. There was a lot of reluctance among people to actually go, but slowly the crowd began to part and let him pass.

Jorvan floated back to the ground and the funnel of air dissipated as he ceased the movements of his arms. “Thank you.” His face was covered in sweat, and Rudiger noticed that his thin gown was also soaked right through. “People often look at me, but not like this.”

“Isyar are like angels in these parts,” Rudiger said. “People get you mixed up with them.”

“Thank you again,” Jorvan said. “I do not return tomorrow, right?”

“No, of course not!” Rudiger replied. “I mean, unless you want to.”

Jorvan shook his head.

They began walking through the streets. People still watched Jorvan as he passed, but most kept their distance, and the few who didn’t were admonished by others nearby who had already heard the story. News spread fast, apparently.

“I didn’t know you could hover,” Rudiger said as they walked.

“I cannot,” Jorvan replied. “I used magic to make air lift me.”

Explained the funnel of air.

“Are you okay?” Rudiger asked. “You’re sweating a lot.” He hadn’t thought about how the warmer weather here might affect Jorvan. He knew Isyar liked cold weather—while they had crossed northern Arnor during the winter, Jorvan had never worn anything heavier than the thin gown he was wearing now—but it hadn’t occurred to him they might not take well to heat.

“I will be fine at the ship,” Jorvan replied. “It is cooler.”

Rudiger groaned. “We can’t, I’m afraid. The ship’s gone.”

“It left? Why?”

Rudiger shook his head. “No, someone blew it up. Zandrue and I were ambushed on the pier. Don’t know what happened to her. Worse, there are Red Knights here, too, and they want me arrested. I had to make a run for it, past city watchmen as well. Which, of course, means that the city watch will want me soon. We can’t stick around here.”

Jorvan nodded. “Where do we go?”

Rudiger shrugged. “Don’t know. We can take the road south of here a short distance and wait there. Borisin will be able to find us, and I’m sure Zandrue will find us, too. If she’s alive, that is.”

“I am sure she is,” Jorvan said. “She is...resourceful.”

Rudiger just nodded. He really hoped Zandrue was alive. He had no clue what he would do if it turned out otherwise. She’d become too much a part of his life to die on him now. If she was alive, it was time he got over his fear of intimacy with her, though. Death was likely to keep following them around. Any of them could die at any time. He shouldn’t be afraid to be close before that happened.

They found her a mile south of the city, standing with Borisin on the beach. Rudiger let go of Lucinda’s reins, ran up to her, picked her up, and spun her around. Then he kissed her. There was salt on her lips, but he didn’t care. She was alive! He soaked in the warmth of her, the softness of her skin.

“We should get separated more often,” Zandrue said when their mouths finally parted. “I could grow to like this.” She kissed him again.

Borisin’s snout pushed up against the sides of their heads. All right, break it up.

In his excitement at seeing Zandrue, Rudiger had forgotten about Borisin.

Doesn’t surprise me, either, the horse said. After all, I only saved your life. Why should you be happy to see me?

Zandrue slipped out of his arms with a sigh. “Sorry, but I’m not into threesomes with horses.”

Borisin snorted. That’s just gross.

“I am happy you live, Zandrue,” Jorvan said. “Rudiger told me what happened.”

“They blew up the ship,” Rudiger told her.

She nodded. “I heard. Literally, I heard it go.”

“I was worried maybe you were on board.”

She smiled. “No, I was in the water at the time. I heard your warning, but didn’t have much time to react. I think I got the first mate, but then they threw me in the water. I swam under the pier and then to shore. With the tide out, it wasn’t too far. Tell me everything else that happened afterwards.”

So Rudiger told her of his own brush with drowning, of the unbelievably fast man, of the watch and the Red Knights, and of his own escape from them. When he was done, there was a worried look on Zandrue’s face. “Well, at least the two of you came south from the city and didn’t go north.”

“What would have happened if we’d gone north?” Rudiger asked.

“You wouldn’t have found me,” Zandrue replied with a grin. “Sure, I’d have found you eventually, but we need to go south, not north.”

“You’re suggesting we travel overland?” Rudiger asked.

Zandrue nodded. “Just as far as Bever and catch another ship from there. It’ll take a little longer, but we made such good time from Arnor City that a couple days of overland travel won’t really affect us that much.” She took hold of Lucinda’s reins and patted the mare’s nose.

“Most of our supplies were on the ship,” Rudiger said.

“Gone now,” Zandrue said. “I’ve still got a few things in my pack. We should be able to make due until Bever where we can pick up some more. We can’t risk going back into Cilling though. In fact, we’d better get going now, before they catch up to us.” She mounted Lucinda, and waited for Rudiger and Jorvan to do the same with their horses. Then they were off.

“How did they know we were here?” Rudiger asked as they rode.

Zandrue groaned. “I shouldn’t have let those Darkers go.”

Rudiger shrugged. “They weren’t the only ones that got away that night. You think they had something to do with this?”

“Maybe, but as I think about it, I doubt it. They would have to get a message ahead of us very fast. Considering how good a time we made from Arnor City, that seems unlikely. On top of that, why Cilling? Sure, it’s a common stop-over port, but there was no guarantee that we would be on a ship that stops here. They would be more likely to send word to Lockanith or Ninifin. Plus, the way you described things on the pier, Rudiger, it sounds like it was a hastily planned ambush.”

“You figured that out just from my description?”

“I think I understand,” Jorvan said. “Why did they push you when you could...go on the ship and...” He stumbled over his words.

“Why did they attack us when they could have just let us die on the ship?” Zandrue completed for him. “It’s like they didn’t know each other’s plans.”

Jorvan nodded.

Rudiger grimaced. “You mean we have multiple groups of enemies after us?”

“Let’s see,” Zandrue said. “Darkers, Volgs, Red Knights, maybe even separate factions within each of those groups. I’d call that multiple groups. What did you expect?”

“I was kind of hoping they were all just part of one large group working together.”

“That would be frightening,” Zandrue said. “Frankly, I’d much prefer to go on the assumption that they’re not. They’ll be less organised that way. Still, we mustn’t take anything for granted.” She smiled at him. “With a little luck, maybe we’ll learn something in Lockanith.”

They rode long that day and the next couple, passing through a few small villages along the way, but not stopping until the second day to get as far from Cilling as possible. Rudiger kept a constant watch behind them for signs of anyone following. The farther they got, the less likely anyone would catch them, but he couldn’t help thinking of the man with the drooping eye. He must have been a wizard of some sort to be able to move so fast. With his speed, he might actually be able to catch up to them. Rudiger also took first watch each night after they’d set up camp, and again, he focused most of his attention on the road to the north—although he didn’t totally ignore the other directions, even up. But nothing came at them during the night.

The third morning dawned hot and humid. Although it cooled somewhat each night, as soon as the sun was back in the sky, the temperature rose rapidly. By mid-morning, it was like the height of summer in Fisvin. Even Rudiger found it uncomfortable—especially in his armour—but Jorvan was far worse off. He slumped in his saddle, completely drenched—not from sweat, but from the miniature rain cloud that followed him along just above his head, showering him with water. His horse was quite unimpressed by the cloud’s presence, but try as the young mare might, she couldn’t get away from it. Jorvan kept her under control for the first while, but gradually began to be oblivious to her wanderings. Eventually, Zandrue had to take the reins from the exhausted Isyar. As the day passed, the rain from his cloud got lighter, and the cloud itself began to dissipate. Jorvan had been making small motions with his fingers, and those motions were getting slower and less pronounced.

Rudiger wiped sweat from his forehead as they travelled the last stretch towards Bever. To their left lay long stretches of farmland and orchards. To their right was the beach and the long expanse of ocean. Up ahead, there was a group of people on the road, the first other travellers they had seen in a few hours. It had been nice having the road to themselves for a little while. Previous travellers they had passed on the road had all reacted to Jorvan and his rain cloud, most in awe, some in fear. Either reaction, however, resulted in no peace for Jorvan.

“How are you doing?” Rudiger asked.

The Isyar looked weakly over at him and forced a smile. “Good.”

“More people coming. You can bet they’ve never seen an Isyar before either.”

Jorvan nodded. “I will be fine.”

“We need to get him in, out of the sun,” Zandrue said. “Damn those Darkers!”

The group on the road was surprisingly large. There had to be twenty to thirty of them. Groups that size generally only occurred with caravans or military patrols, but there was no sign of any vehicles or draft animals. Not a caravan then, and they wore no tabards nor carried any banners to identify them as soldiers. They could be pilgrims, although Rudiger was unaware of anything in this region worth going on a pilgrimage to. To be fair, he didn’t know the region well.

Zandrue was watching the group intently as well.

“Big group,” Rudiger commented.

“Yeah,” Zandrue replied. “It’s probably nothing. We’re just jumpy after events in Cilling. Still, keep alert.”

Rudiger nodded. “What do you think, Borisin?”

I’m not sure.

“What happened to your infallible sense of smell?” Rudiger joked. “You know, smelling shifty and all.”

They’re not close enough yet, the stallion replied. Besides, I never claimed it was infallible.

Rudiger rolled his eyes.

The group was a mixture of copper-skinned Eloorin and tanned Foliths. All men, as best as Rudiger could tell. Most carried a sack or two. A few held pitchforks. Maybe they were just farmers.

“Thirty-three of them,” Zandrue said. “Strength in numbers, I suppose.”

Something’s not right, Borisin said.

“Something’s not right,” Rudiger repeated out loud.

Zandrue shrugged. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing. Move off the road anyway to let them pass. We don’t want them surrounding us.”

Shifty’s here, Borisin said.

“What?” Rudiger said. Near the front of the group was a broad Eloorin with stringy hair and a drooping eye. “I don’t believe it. How the hell did he get ahead of us? No, never mind. Stupid question.” He called out to Jorvan and Zandrue, “It’s a trap!”

The people in the group opened their sacks and pulled out clubs and maces, even a few swords. The droopy-eyed man was gone in a flash. There was a blur of motion to Rudiger’s right and Jorvan’s horse reared, her reins pulling out of Zandrue’s grasp. The stunned Isyar tried to calm the horse, but his saddle slipped from beneath him and he tumbled to the ground. There was a gash on the mare’s side where the saddle’s straps had been cut.

The mob began to charge, waving their weapons above them. Rudiger let go of his reins and drew Slay. Borisin was already moving. It quickly became apparent that they were all untrained rabble. Most broke their charge and ran the moment they saw the huge roan horse galloping at them. The few who didn’t offered very little resistance. Even with the limits using Slay on horseback caused—he didn’t want to accidentally cut off his horse’s head—they were no match for him. They quickly fell to Slay or Borisin’s hooves.

“That was easy for a change,” Rudiger said.

Zandrue yelled and Borisin spun around. Zandrue had dismounted and was wielding her sword, glancing in every direction. A blur sped past her and she cried out again, dropping the sword. Rudiger could see blood dripping from her hand.

There was no need to give any indication to Borisin. The stallion was already on his way back, stopping right beside Zandrue, who picked up her sword. Rudiger looked about, trying to pinpoint where the droopy-eyed man had gone. He caught a brief glimpse of him farther up the road before the man became a blur and behind Zandrue again. His dagger sliced across her back. With a yell, she threw herself forward. As soon as she was out of the way, Rudiger swung. A moment later, the man was gone again, but the tip of Slay was red with blood.

“We have to get him,” Zandrue said. “As long as he’s alive, he’ll keep getting ahead of us to set up more ambushes.”

“He’s injured,” Rudiger said. “Maybe that will slow him down.” He dismounted, keeping an eye out in case the man came in for another attack. He moved so that he was standing over Zandrue.

“Don’t count on it,” she said.

“There can’t be that many Darkers. Surely their numbers will run out eventually.”

Zandrue shook her head, groaned and pulled herself to her feet. “He doesn’t need Darkers. All he needs are people willing to do anything for a bit of money. The only thing working to our advantage is that he doesn’t have the time to be picky about who he gets.” She touched her back and winced. Her hand came away red with blood.

“You going to be okay?” Rudiger asked.

She nodded. “I’ll live, but I need to get the wound cleaned. Check on Jorvan, then come give me a hand. The problem with back wounds is they’re a bitch to reach.”

“You think he’s gone then?”

“He would have been back at us by now,” Zandrue replied. “You wounded him. Depending just how badly, he might have to hold off for a while to get it taken care of. With a little luck, maybe it was a mortal wound. Now, go check on Jorvan.”

“Right,” Rudiger said.

He found Jorvan face down in the dirt, apparently fast asleep. His horse was grazing just off the side of the road, free from the rain cloud, which had vanished. “I will be okay,” Jorvan said as Rudiger reached down to help him.

Rudiger stepped back. “I thought you were out cold.”

“I think I was,” Jorvan replied. “Is everyone all right?”

“More or less,” Rudiger said.

“I am sorry I did not help,” Jorvan continued. “I am not at my best in heat.”

“No apology necessary.”

Zandrue had started preparing a fire when they reached her, but a lack of good material was causing her difficulty. She had removed her tunic; her undershirt was drenched in blood. “Jorvan, get this fire going for me. We don’t have any alcohol, so we need to boil some water to sterilise the wound.” She tried to stand up, but nearly fell over. Rudiger caught her.

“You’re really hurt. You should have said something.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a grin, which quickly turned to a grimace. “Just as long as we’re quick. The wound must be deeper than I thought. I’m losing a lot of blood.”

Jorvan handed Rudiger a pair of rocks. “I need a spark. There.” He pointed to where Zandrue had been attempting to start a fire.

Rudiger knelt beside the spot and began slapping the rocks against each other. He stopped when he a small spark didn’t vanish. He dropped the rocks into the small pile of kindling Zandrue had gathered.

Jorvan was making gentle motions with one hand, repeatedly pulling in and then letting go. Each time he pulled in, the fire grew a little larger. Once it was the size of a campfire, Jorvan stopped his hand movements. The fire’s small amount of fuel had already burned away, and it now seemed to be burning the ground itself, which was blackening.

“I need you to stitch the wound,” Zandrue told Rudiger.

Rudiger looked at her wide-eyed. “With what? We don’t have anything!” Even if they’d had something, he wasn’t certain he would be any good at it. His big hands weren’t well-suited for such delicate movements.

“Please.” She was sounding very weak now.

The seriousness of the situation became apparent to him. She could be dying, and he was just standing there holding her. Rudiger sprang to action. He tore her shirt off and tossed the now-useless rag aside. Her back was covered with blood, and the wound was very apparent. A long, deep cut ran from just beneath one shoulder blade to the other.

“The water is ready,” Jorvan said.

It barely occurred to Rudiger how fast Jorvan had prepared the water; he didn’t really care. He grabbed the pot from Jorvan, saying, “Something for her to bite down on!” Jorvan looked about them, and soon found a stick, which he stuffed in Zandrue’s mouth. Rudiger then poured the scalding water over her back.

The scream which emerged from Zandrue’s throat was loud, guttural, and unnerving. A sound no one ought to have been able to make. Then she passed out.

“I need to stitch the wound,” Rudiger told Jorvan. “Do you have anything? Check Zandrue’s pack. Look around. There’s got to be something. We can’t let her die. Not now. If only we hadn’t lost most of our stuff on the ship. Maybe there’s something in one of these fields, or down by the beach, or maybe along the road. Check the bodies of the attackers, maybe they have something in those packs and stuff they were carrying or threads from their clothes or maybe—”

Jorvan put a hand on his arm. “Wrap cloth around her for now. I will find something, then I will stitch her wound. You are too...upset.”

Rudiger nodded meekly. While Jorvan wandered in search of something to use, Rudiger turned to Borisin, who had wandered up at some point, and looked through his pack. He pulled out a shirt and wrapped it tightly around Zandrue. Then he waited, holding her against him all the while. Eventually, Jorvan returned and took Zandrue from him. Rudiger stood beside Borisin and waited some more.

Rudiger had no idea what Jorvan had found to use, but soon the Isyar announced that he had finished. “I think she will be fine,” Jorvan said, and slumped over. Rudiger had to catch him.

“You all right?”

“Just the heat,” Jorvan replied.

“Heat, right,” Rudiger said. “The fire!”

“I put it out already,” Jorvan responded.

“Oh, good. I guess we all need some rest. Can’t stay here though. We need to find somewhere a bit more secure.”

Rudiger walked over to where Jorvan had laid Zandrue. She was on her stomach, and the wound was clearly visible. The stitches were made from thin strands of rope, probably taken from their attackers’ sacks. Jorvan had only made a few—he probably hadn’t had much to work with—but it was enough to hold the skin together long enough for it to heal itself.

Rudiger bent down, slipped his hands under her and gently rolled her over into his arms, then picked her up. Fast asleep, she looked strangely contented, and despite the dirt on her face and chest, still beautiful. Rudiger blushed when he realised he was staring at her bare breasts. A longing for her was definitely building in him. No. Not now, he told himself.

Jorvan had taken a tunic from one of their attackers. He and Rudiger put it on Zandrue and then carried her over to Lucinda. She was beginning to stir, and together, they helped her into the saddle and made certain she was secure.

“We cannot go to the city,” Jorvan said. “That is where they will expect us to go.”

“Not right away, at any rate,” Zandrue said with a groan.

“What about our speedy friend?” Rudiger asked. “We need to deal with him. As long as he’s alive, he can keep dogging us.”

“We don’t have the means to chase him,” Zandrue said. “We need time to recover.”

“You say we,” Rudiger said. “What about Jorvan? You’ll recover, but the heat isn’t going away.”

“I will be fine,” Jorvan said, though the sweat dripping down his face made Rudiger doubt that.

“Let’s just head east,” Zandrue said. “We’ll put some space between us and the city, and figure out what to do tomorrow.”

Rudiger nodded and helped Jorvan onto his horse. Then he mounted Borisin, and they were off.