of sight before they come by.’
‘Good idea,’ Olven approved. Olven was not one to waste words.
‘Why don’t you give them a bit of a run?’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘They won’t be able to tell that we’re not still in the column until they catch up with you.’
Olven grinned crookedly. ‘Even so far as Demos?’ he asked.
‘That would be helpful. Cut across country before you reach Lenda and pick up the road again south of town. I’m sure Annias has spies in Lenda too.’
‘Good luck, Sparhawk,’ Olven said.
‘Thanks,’ Sparhawk said, shaking the scarfaced knight’s hand, ‘we might need it.’ He backed Faran off the road, and the column thundered past him at a gallop.
‘Let’s see how fast you can get to that grove of trees over there,’ Sparhawk said to his bad-tempered mount.
Faran snorted derisively, then leapt forward at a dead run.
Kalten waited at the edge of the trees, his grey cloak blending into the shadows and fog. ‘The others are back in the woods a ways,’ he reported. ‘Why’s Olven galloping like that?’
‘I asked him to,’ Sparhawk replied, swinging down from his saddle. ‘The soldiers won’t know that we’ve left the column if Olven stays a mile or two ahead of them.’
‘You’re smarter than you look, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said, also dismounting. ‘I’ll get the horses back out of sight. The steam coming off them might be visible.’ He squinted at Faran. ‘Tell this ugly brute of yours not to bite me.’
‘You heard him, Faran,’ Sparhawk told his war-horse.
Faran laid his ears back.
As Kalten led their horses back among the trees, Sparhawk sank down onto his stomach behind a low bush. The grove of trees lay no more than fifty yards from the road, and as the fog began to dissipate with the onset of morning, he could clearly see that the whole stretch of road they had just left was empty. Then a single red-tunicked soldier galloped along, coming from the south. The man rode stiffly, and his face seemed strangely wooden.
‘A scout?’ Kalten whispered, crawling up beside Sparhawk.
‘More than likely,’ Sparhawk whispered back.
‘Why are we whispering?’ Kalten asked. ‘He can’t hear us over the noise of his horse’s hooves.’
‘You started it.’
‘Force of habit, I guess. I always whisper when I’m skulking.’
The scout reined in his mount at the top of the hill, then wheeled and rode back along the road at a dead run. His face was still blank.
‘He’s going to wear out that horse if he keeps doing that,’ Kalten said.
‘It’s his horse.’
‘That’s true, and he’s the one who gets to walk when the horse plays out on him.’
‘Walking is good for church soldiers. It teaches them humility.’
About five minutes later, the church soldiers galloped by, their red tunics dark in the dawn light. Accompanying the leader of the column was a tall, emaciated figure in a black robe and hood. It may have been a trick of the misty morning light, but a faint greenish glow seemed to emanate from under the hood, and the figure’s back appeared to be grossly deformed.
‘They’re definitely trying to keep an eye on that column,’ Kalten said.
‘I hope they enjoy Demos,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Olven’s going to stay ahead of them every step of the way. I need to talk with Sephrenia. Let’s go back to the others. We’ll sit tight for an hour or so, until we’re sure the soldiers are out of the area, and then move on.’
‘Good idea. I’m about ready for some breakfast anyway.’
They led their horses back through the damp woods to a small basin surrounding a trickling spring that emerged from a fern-covered bank.
‘Did they go by?’ Tynian asked.
‘At a gallop,’ Kalten grinned, ‘and they didn’t look around very much. Does anybody have anything to eat? I’m starving.’
‘I’ve got a slab of cold bacon,’ Kurik offered.
‘Cold?’
‘Fire makes smoke, Kalten. Do you really want these woods full of soldiers?’
Kalten sighed.
Sparhawk looked at Sephrenia. ‘There’s somebody – or something – riding with those soldiers,’ he said. ‘It gave me a very uneasy feeling, and I think it was the same thing I caught a glimpse of last night.’
‘Can you describe it?’
‘It’s quite tall and very very thin. Its back seems to be deformed, and it’s wearing a black hooded robe, so I couldn’t see any details.’ He frowned. ‘Those church soldiers in the column seemed as if they were half-asleep. They usually pay closer attention to what they’re doing.’
‘This thing you saw,’ she said seriously. ‘Was there anything else unusual about it?’
‘I can’t say for sure, but it seemed to have a sort of greenish light coming from its face. I noticed the same thing last night.’
Her face grew bleak. ‘I think we’d better leave immediately, Sparhawk.’
‘The soldiers don’t know we’re here,’ he objected.
‘They will before long. You’ve just described a Seeker. In Zemoch they’re used to hunt down runaway slaves. The lump on its back is caused by its wings.’
‘Wings?’ Kalten said sceptically. ‘Sephrenia, no animal has wings – except maybe a bat.’
‘This isn’t an animal, Kalten,’ she replied. ‘It more closely resembles an insect – although neither term is very exact when you’re talking about the creatures Azash summons.’
‘I hardly think we need to worry about a bug,’ he said.
‘We do with this particular creature. It has very little in the way of a brain, but that doesn’t matter because the spirit of Azash infuses it and provides its thoughts for it. It can see a long way in the dark or fog. Its ears are very sharp, and it has a very keen sense of smell. As soon as those soldiers come in sight of Olven’s column, it’s going to know that we’re not riding with the knights. The soldiers will come back at that point.’
‘Are you saying that church soldiers will take orders from an insect?’ Bevier asked incredulously.
‘They have no choice. They have no will of their own any more. The Seeker controls them utterly.’
‘How long does that last?’ he asked her.
‘For as long as they live – which usually isn’t very long. As soon as it has no further need of them, it consumes them. Sparhawk, we’re in very great danger. Let’s leave here at once.’
‘You heard her,’ Sparhawk said grimly. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
They rode out of the grove of trees at a canter and crossed a wide green meadow where brown and white spotted cows grazed in knee-deep grass. Sir Ulath pulled in beside Sparhawk. ‘It’s really none of my business,’ the shaggy-browed Genidian Knight said, ‘but you had twenty Pandions with you back there. Why didn’t you just turn around and eliminate those soldiers and their bug?’
‘Fifty dead soldiers scattered along a road would attract attention,’ Sparhawk explained, ‘and new graves are almost as obvious.’
‘Makes sense, I suppose,’ Ulath grunted. ‘Living in an over-populated kingdom has its own special problems,