The Ruby Knight (5 page)

‘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, doesn't it? Up in Thalesia, the Trolls and Ogres usually clean up that sort of thing before anybody chances by.'

Sparhawk shuddered. ‘Will they really eat carrion?' he asked, looking back over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit.

‘Trolls and Ogres? Oh, yes – as long as the carrion's not too ripe. A nice fat church soldier will feed a family of Trolls for a week or so. That's one of the reasons there aren't very many church soldiers or their graveyards in Thalesia. The point, though, is that I don't like leaving live enemies behind me. Those church soldiers might come back to haunt us, and if that thing they've got with them is as dangerous as Sephrenia says, we probably should have got it out of the way while we had the chance.'

‘Maybe you're right,' Sparhawk admitted, ‘but it's too late now, I'm afraid. Olven's far out of reach. About all we can do is make a run for it and hope the soldiers'
horses tire before ours do. When we get a chance, I'll want to talk with Sephrenia some more about that Seeker. I've got a feeling there were some things about it she wasn't telling me.'

They rode hard for the rest of the day and saw no signs that the soldiers were anywhere behind them.

‘There's a roadside inn just ahead,' Kalten said as evening settled over the rolling countryside. ‘Do you want to chance it?'

Sparhawk looked at Sephrenia. ‘What do you think?'

‘Only for a few hours,' she said, ‘just long enough to feed the horses and give them some rest. The Seeker will know that we're not with that column by now, and it's certain to be following our trail. We have to move on.'

‘We could at least get some supper,' Kalten added, ‘and maybe a couple of hours' sleep. I've been up for a long time. Besides, we might be able to pick up some information if we ask the right questions.'

The inn was run by a thin, good-humoured fellow and his plump, jolly wife. It was a comfortable place and meticulously clean. The broad fireplace at one end of the common-room did not smoke, and there were fresh rushes on the floor.

‘We don't see many city folk this far out in the country,' the innkeeper noted as he brought a platter of roast beef to the table, ‘- and very seldom any knights – at least I judge from your garb that you're knights. What brings you this way, My Lords?'

‘We're on our way to Pelosia,' Kalten lied easily. ‘Church business. We're in a hurry, so we decided to cut across country.'

‘There's a road that runs on up into Pelosia about three leagues to the south,' the innkeeper advised helpfully.

‘Roads wander around a lot,' Kalten said, ‘and like I told you, we're in a hurry.'

‘Anything interesting happening hereabouts?' Tynian asked as if only mildly curious.

The innkeeper laughed wryly. ‘What can possibly happen in a place like this? The local farmers spend all their time talking about a cow that died six months ago.' He drew up a chair and sat down uninvited. He sighed. ‘I used to live in Cimmura when I was younger. Now, there's a place where things really happen. I miss all the excitement.'

‘What made you decide to move out here?' Kalten asked, spearing another slice of beef with his dagger.

‘My father left me this place when he died. Nobody wanted to buy it, so I didn't have any choice.' He frowned slightly. ‘Now that you mention it, though,' he said, returning to the previous topic, ‘there has been something a little unusual happening around here for the last few months.'

‘Oh?' Tynian said carefully.

‘We've been seeing bands of roving Styrics. The countryside's crawling with them. They don't usually move around that much, do they?'

‘Not really,' Sephrenia replied. ‘We're not a nomadic people.'

‘I thought you might be Styric, lady – judging from your looks and your clothes. We've got a Styric village not far from here. They're nice enough people, I suppose, but they keep pretty much to themselves.' He leaned back in his chair. ‘I do think you Styrics could avoid a lot of the trouble that breaks out from time to time if you'd just mingle with your neighbours a little more.'

‘It's not our way,' Sephrenia murmured. ‘I don't believe Elenes and Styrics are supposed to mingle.'

‘There could be something to what you say,' he agreed.

‘Are these Styrics doing anything in particular?' Sparhawk asked, keeping his voice neutral.

‘Asking questions is about all. They seem to be very curious about the Zemoch war for some reason.' He rose to his feet. ‘Enjoy your supper,' he said and went back to the kitchen.

‘We have a problem,' Sephrenia said gravely. ‘Western Styrics do not wander about the countryside. Our Gods prefer to have us stay close to their altars.'

‘Zemochs then?' Bevier surmised.

‘Almost certainly.'

‘When I was in Lamorkand, there were reports of Zemochs infiltrating the country east of Motera,' Kalten remembered. ‘They were doing the same thing – wandering about the country asking questions, mostly having to do with folk-lore.'

‘Azash seems to have a plan that closely resembles ours,' Sephrenia said. ‘He's trying to gather information that will lead him to Bhelliom.'

‘It's a race then,' Kalten said.

‘I'm afraid so, and he's got Zemochs out there ahead of us.'

‘And church soldiers behind,' Ulath added. ‘You've gone and got us surrounded, Sparhawk. Could that Seeker be controlling those wandering Zemochs the same way it's controlling the soldiers?' the big Thalesian asked Sephrenia. ‘We could be riding into an ambush if it is, you know.'

‘I'm not entirely certain,' she replied. ‘I've heard a great deal about Otha's Seekers, but I've never actually seen one in action.'

‘You didn't have time to be very specific this morning,' Sparhawk said. ‘Exactly how is that thing controlling Annias's soldiers?'

‘It's venomous,' she said. ‘Its bite paralyses the will of its victims – or of those it wants to dominate.'

‘I'll make a point of not letting it bite me then,' Kalten said.

‘You may not be able to stop it,' she told him. ‘That green glow is hypnotic. That makes it easier for it to get close enough to inject the venom.'

‘How fast can it fly?' Tynian asked.

‘It doesn't fly at this stage of its development,' she replied. ‘Its wings don't mature until it becomes an adult. Besides, it has to be on the ground to follow the scent of the one it's trying to catch. Normally, it travels on horseback, and since the horse is controlled in the same way people are, the Seeker simply rides the horse to death and then finds another. It can cover a great deal of ground that way.'

‘What does it eat?' Kurik asked. ‘Maybe we can set a trap for it.'

‘It feeds primarily on humans,' she told him.

‘That would make baiting a trap a little difficult,' he admitted.

They all went to bed directly after supper, but it seemed to Sparhawk that his head had no sooner touched the pillow than Kurik was shaking him awake.

‘It's about midnight,' the squire said.

‘All right,' Sparhawk said wearily, sitting up in bed.

‘I'll wake the others,' Kurik said, ‘and then Berit and I'll go saddle the horses.'

After he had dressed, Sparhawk went downstairs to have a word with the sleepy innkeeper. ‘Tell me, neighbour,' he said, ‘is there by any chance a monastery hereabouts?'

The innkeeper scratched his head. ‘I think there's one near the village of Verine,' he replied. ‘That's about five leagues east of here.'

‘Thanks, neighbour,' Sparhawk said. He looked around. ‘You've got a nice, comfortable inn here,' he said, ‘and your wife keeps clean beds and sets a very fine table. I'll mention your place to my friends.'

‘Why, that's very kind of you, Sir Knight.'

Sparhawk nodded to him and went outside to join the others.

‘What's the plan?' Kalten asked.

‘The innkeeper thinks there's a monastery near a village about five leagues away. We should reach it by morning. I want to get word of all this to Dolmant in Chyrellos.'

‘I could take the message to him for you, Sir Sparhawk,' Berit offered eagerly.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘The Seeker probably has your scent by now, Berit. I don't want you getting ambushed on the road to Chyrellos. Let's send some anonymous monk instead. That monastery's on our way anyhow, so we won't be losing any time. Let's mount up.'

The moon was full and the night sky was clear as they rode away from the inn. ‘That way,' Kurik said, pointing.

‘How do you know that?' Talen asked him.

‘The stars,' Kurik replied.

‘Do you mean you can actually tell direction by the stars?' Talen sounded impressed.

‘Of course you can. Sailors have been doing that for thousands of years.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘You should have stayed in school.'

‘I don't plan to be a sailor, Kurik. Stealing fish sounds a little too much like work to me.'

They rode on through the moon-drenched night, moving almost due east. By morning they had gone perhaps five leagues, and Sparhawk rode to a hilltop to
look around. ‘There's a village just ahead,' he told the others when he returned. ‘Let's hope it's the one we're looking for.'

The village lay in a shallow valley. It was a small place, perhaps a dozen stone houses with a church at one end of its single cobbled street and a tavern at the other. A large, walled building stood atop a hill just outside the town. ‘Excuse me, neighbour,' Sparhawk asked a passer-by as they clattered into town. ‘Is this Verine?'

‘It is.'

‘And is that the monastery up on that hill there?'

‘It is,' the man replied again, his voice a bit sullen.

‘Is there some problem?'

‘The monks up there own all the land hereabouts,' the fellow replied. ‘Their rents are cruel.'

‘Isn't that always the way? All landlords are greedy.'

‘The monks insist on tithes as well as the rent. That's going a bit far, wouldn't you say?'

‘You've got a point there.'

‘Why do you call everybody “neighbour”?' Tynian asked as they rode on.

‘Habit, I suppose,' Sparhawk shrugged. ‘I got it from my father, and I think it puts people at their ease.'

‘Why not call them “friend”?'

‘Because I never know that for sure. Let's go talk to the Abbot of that monastery.'