'I thought there might be, because of the vision. I didn't suggest it, because you don't believe in visions.'
Hamish said something in langue d'oil that did not sound polite.
CHAPTER FOUR
Toby wakened with the sun blazing down on his right ear. He had overslept, which was annoying but also confirmation that his sleepless night in the dungeon had not been pure hallucination. Not that he needed more evidence than his arms, which still ached all the way from wrenched shoulders to bruised wrists. And now was the moment to wonder what might have crept into bed with him: spiders, snakes, scorpions? He rolled over and heaved himself upright.
Hamish was reading, of course. Beside him lay a heap of oranges and two swords. He smirked with the smugness of the earlier riser. 'Sleep well?'
'A few nightmares. You?'
'No. I had my nightmares before I went to bed. There aren't any more demons around. If there were, your snoring would have brought them running.'
Since he was wearing nothing but his locket, Toby reached first for his clothes. 'You found another sword.'
Hamish nodded, closing the book. 'I found eight bodies, too. There's other stuff on them, but I couldn'a bear to touch any of it. Yours is a demon sword, you realize?'
Of course. They were conventional, single-edged military swords, with simple L-shaped guards, probably of Spanish make, but one of them had slain a demon and so would have power against demons. That might be useful, for although incarnates were not exactly commonplace he seemed to have a knack for running into them.
Dressed, he reached for the oranges. 'Any thoughts on my visions now?'
Hamish scowled. 'No. That hob of yours breaks all the rules. And your prophecies aren't accurate — but they do seem to come close,' he conceded.
Toby thought of Baron Oreste's dungeon and shivered.
As soon as he had eaten they set off northward, still carrying their staves. Having no scabbards, they tucked the swords in their bundles, hilts ready to hand in case they were needed. Westward lay the scrubby hills, and eastward the brilliant sea.
Amazingly, Hamish seemed none the worse for his horrifying experience with the ghoul. For a while he indulged in aimless chatter, explaining that the Mediterranean had been named by the Romans and meant Middle of the World but the Moors called it Bahr al-Rumi, the sea of Rome; that from the south coast of Castile you could see Africa; that it was only thirty years since the king of Castile had conquered Granada for the Khan; and that a tigress could outrun a horse, but the rider could escape it by throwing down a glass ball, which the tigress, seeing her own reflection in it, would think was one of her cubs and stop to suckle.
'What do you do about the tiger?' Toby asked. 'Can't it run too?'
Hamish frowned. 'The book didn't say. You suppose no one ever came back to tell them?' Then his eyes twinkled. It was never possible to tell how serious he was when he recounted a tale like that. He usually seemed to accept anything he read in a book without question, but he might have just been having fun with his big, stupid friend. Although his dark coloring made him look like a native, he was tall by Spanish standards and still gangly, so recently come to his full height that he had much filling out left to do. Fine-boned and yet firm, his features combined a pair of very solemn dark eyes with a mouth ever ready to smile. Dress him as a gentleman instead of a beggar and those long lashes would quicken every female heart in the land. If they didn't, it would not be for want of fluttering.
Suddenly he went to business. 'What exactly did you foresee last night?'
Toby told what he could remember of the vision. 'It's odd, but I don't recall much of what we said. Everything else was as vivid as real life, but the conversation's all fuzzy and patchy.'
'Like the meeting in Valencia. You didn't remember what was said then, either.' Hamish was wearing his smug expression.
'So?'
'This sounds to me like the hob's doing. It wouldn't care much about words, would it?'
'No it wouldn't. So, yes, you're right.' Trust Hamish to work that out.
'Then what?'
'That's all. Oreste just went away and left me in the dark.' For how long? All night? The soldiers had checked on him several times.
'Standing up? Chained?'
'Yes. Now you know everything. You're the scholar. Explain it.'
Hamish scowled down at the trail. 'I can't. It makes no sense.
Toby grunted.
'Well?' Hamish demanded. 'We've got no reason to go to Barcelona. There are other ways out of Spain!'
Barcelona was the shortest, but the real reason Toby wanted to go there was to find a ship for Hamish. He had hoped to find one in Valencia, but the city was a graveyard and no ships came to El Grao. Hamish, although he hated to admit it, was bitterly homesick for Scotland. Hamish had done nothing to earn this endless, dangerous life as a fugitive except be loyal to his friend. It was time to repay the debt by sending him home. Scotland was a poor land with troubles of its own, but he had friends and family there, which Toby had not, and the sooner he was shipped back there the sooner he could start living the sane, ordinary life he deserved.
So Barcelona it must be, but that argument would not sway him, so think up another reason:
'You know I want more than anything to be rid of the hob. Didn't you tell me that Barcelona has one of the greatest tutelaries in Europe?'
'Montserrat? Its sanctuary is near Barcelona, yes. But the hob won't let you go near a tutelary. You know that.'
'A hexer could exorcize it,' Toby said cautiously.
'I expect so, but all hexers are evil, and how do you find one anyway? How do you bribe him or pay him?'
'The Khan must have hexers. He'd help.'
Hamish groaned. 'And how do you get to Sarois?'
That was certainly the problem and always had been. Ozbeg Khan was a thousand leagues away, beyond the Caspian Sea. He would love to have the amethyst, because that would give him the real Nevil's soul, and Nevil had known Rhym's true name, so the Khan could then conjure the Fiend and regain the half of Europe Nevil had conquered. That was why the Fiend had been chasing Toby so relentlessly for the last three years.
'I know a hexer in Barcelona — Oreste himself.'
'He has dozens of trained demons. I'll offer to give him the amethyst if he'll take the hob off me.'
'You have the brains of a field mouse!' Hamish yelled. 'Oreste would hex you or turn you into a creature or just torture you to death out of spite. There is no way you can bargain with Oreste! How could you trust a man so evil? He won't deal, he'll throw you in jail and torture what he wants out of you, or just hex you to obey him. You're joking, Toby, aren't you?'
'Suppose I send him a letter, offering him the amethyst in—'
'He'll trace it back to you by gramarye.'
'Well, think about it,' Toby said complacently. 'I'm sure you'll find a way.' And he would see Hamish safely on a ship before he tried it.
